Author’s note: this is the seventh installment in a ten-part series.
~
Suddenly there is another presence looming beside us. I look, and see that it is Tim. A wall of chisled, muscled flesh. Shock and surprise register somewhere deep in my mind. Tim? Here? How? But then I remember Tim’s large, powerful hand wrapped around my cock, the look in his eye as he had tossed me the condoms the other night. Immediately, my body responds to Tim’s presence with a rush of increased arousal.
Tim reaches for Carl and pulls him so that Carl is sandwiched between us, facing me. Tim’s hands move across Carl’s chest and Carl pulls me into their embrace and I feel both of them — two sets of hands — on me. Tim reaches across Carl to pull my head toward him and kisses me, forcefully, penetrating my mouth with his tongue. I reach around Carl’s body to find Tim’s cock pressing up along the cleft of Carl’s ass. Tim’s cock feels impossibly huge, there is a reflexive response in my ass, an instinctive clench and release.
Between us, Carl is tiny, a mere blip, compressed between two large, aroused males. He shudders; whether it is out of anticipation — or fear — I am not sure, but I lift his chin and take his mouth with mine, reveling in the plump, supple give of his lips, softness, whereas my hands on Tim encounter only firmness, muscle, raspy stubble, rugged jaw.
Carl pushes himself out from between us, and Tim turns his full attention to me. He pushes me roughly up against the edge of the pool, eyes even with mine. “You big fuck,” he says, smiling, punching me softly in the chest. He reaches down to grab my cock, squeeze its base, like he did before, in the bathroom, the night when I was so drunk. “Cocky motherfucker,” he says, and I feel his hard cock pressing into me, poking up into my belly, and then he kisses me, tongue probing again into my mouth. I feel another hand on my cock — Carl — standing close to us, stroking Tim’s cock and my cock, rubbing them against each other.
I reach for Carl’s ass, pressing my finger down into his cleft to find his hole, and I feel Tim’s hand there, too, both of us palpating Carl’s tightly drawn nub. Carl laughs softly and then breaks away from us, striding slowly across the pool.
Tim pushes away from me and starts to follow Carl into the billowing steam. For a moment, I stand where I am, heart racing, against the edge of the pool, and I have a momentary panicked flash, some part of my mind blaring a red-hot warning, but then my panic evaporates and I follow the boys across the pool.
The water gets deeper as we move toward the center of the pool. When it reaches my chest, I tuck my knees and submerge my whole body under the water. I float for a moment in suspended warmth, weightless. The heat from the water works its way into my body, relaxing the tensed muscles of my shoulders and back. The water presses in on me from all sides. On my face, the water is almost intolerably hot, a concentrated burning that leaves me pleasantly blank when I resurface into the cooler air, as if I had been cleansed and purified.
I wipe water from my eyes. In front of me, Carl and Tim are walking up a slight incline toward the far edge of the pool. I see Carl’s round ass emerge from the water, then his thick, soccer-honed thighs. He is walking up a set of submerged stairs. He turns toward us and I see his cock bob up out of the water, thick and short. Tim reaches out to grab Carl, but Carl dodges away, running up the stairs until he’s out of the water completely. Tim charges after him. I hurry, too, following them out of the pool and into another steam-filled room.
There are long benches here, covered in the same intricate tile as the pool room. Carl points to a bench, and Tim and I sit. I feel Tim’s arm move around me to rub my shoulder and neck. Then he smiles and kisses me, deeply. My hand is rubbing his thigh, and then I move my hand to the base of his cock. Carl kneels and puts his hand over mine, and together we grip Tim’s shaft. I can barely get my fingers around it, it’s so thick at the base. Then I feel a hand on my cock, and I see that it’s Carl’s, and he begins to stroke me in a parallel rhythm to the movement of our hands on Tim. Carl leans over me and I watch my cock disappear into his mouth. He sucks for a moment, then moves his head to Tim’s cock. Tim grabs Carl’s head and pushes it down as far as he can. I feel Carl start to squirm and he grips my cock hard, in alarm, but then Tim pulls his head up again. Carl takes a few heaving breaths, and then smiles up at us. Spit trails down his chin and drips onto his chest.
“You like that, don’t you, you little slut?” Tim says in a low voice.
“Yeah,” Carl says, before plunging his head down onto my cock.
As Carl sucks me, I watch Tim stroke his own cock. With his other hand, Tim reaches around to grab Carl’s ass. Carl bends over Tim’s leg so that Tim can get better access, while continuing to suck my cock. Tim slaps and kneads Carl’s round butt cheeks, which burn red from the heat of the room and from being so roughly handled. Tim spreads them with his hands, revealing Carl’s tight, pink hole. He leans over and spits onto Carl’s hole, then pushes a thick finger into him.
I feel Carl stiffen in surprise, but then he relaxes and moans as Tim pushes his finger further inside of him. Carl takes my cock out of his mouth and rests his head on my thigh, stroking my cock and twisting with pleasure as Tim fingers him. I reach over and press my my hand into his crack, too, then begin to work one of my fingers in to his hole alongside Tim’s. Carl’s hands dig into my body as his hole stretches to accommodate us. The inside of his ass feels tight and hot. I put Carl’s hand back on my cock, encourage him to keep stroking me. I am leaking pre-cum like crazy. Carl starts to moan and rock, and I feel the ring of his asshole squeezing in rhythmic contractions. Then, overwhelmed, he stands up, sliding off of our fingers, breathing hard, in front of us.
“You ready for us?” Tim says, swatting at Carl’s knobby cock.
Carl looks at Tim’s massive dick, and then at mine, and then reaches for both, stroking them and looking up at us, a mixture of desire and consternation on his face. Then he nods.
Tim pats his own legs gently, and Carl crawls up to kneel on Tim’s thighs. Against Tim’s large thighs, Carl’s calves look tiny, and Tim’s massive erection pointing up at Carl’s ass looks insane. Tim reaches around to spread Carl’s cheeks and massage his hole. I get up and kneel behind them, and push Carl further up onto Tim’s body so that his hole is positioned right over Tim’s cock. I move in between Tim’s legs so that my face is level with the tip of his cock and Carl’s pulsing hole. Overcome with lust, I lick from the head of Tim’s cock up to Carl’s hole, lubricating both with my spit. Then I use my hand to press Tim’s cock into the crack of Carl’s ass. A shudder runs through Carl’s body.
Slowly, I guide Carl’s ass down onto Tim’s cock. The head is so big against Carl’s little hole that I doubt it will ever fit, but as Carl’s weight bears down, I see the pink ribbon of his asshole start to stretch. Carl whimpers as his hole distends further and further until finally the head of Tim’s cock is completely swallowed. I pull down gently on Carl’s hips, urging him further and further down Tim’s shaft. I watch Tim slide into him, each inch flaring Carl’s hole slightly wider.
Carl is breathing rapidly. His eyes are squeezed shut. I watch a glob of drool fall from his open mouth onto Tim’s chest. Fresh sweat is coursing down his back and into his ass crack. I press my face into his lower back and stroke my own cock, buzzing with an odd sense of displaced pleasure, watching my friend get fucked.
After resting for a moment with his cock almost all the way buried in Carl’s ass, Tim pulls up on Carl’s thighs, urging him to slide back up off his cock. Carl does, and I see his hole distend ever so slightly with friction against Tim’s cock. My hand is slick with my own pre-cum, so I reach up and lubricate Tim’s shaft with it — when Tim feels this, he pushes Carl back down, and Carl slides more easily now over the slickness. I hear Carl moan with pleasure.
They start to fuck more intensely. I reach around to grasp Carl’s cock, to stroke its stout hardness. Carl is really starting to grind on Tim’s cock, although the fact that he is kneeling on Tim’s thighs is preventing him from being completely penetrated. I watch Tim put several fingers into Carl’s mouth, to collect spit. Then he lifts Carl completely off his cock and reaches around to smear it on Carl’s asshole. I expect that he will continue to fuck Carl, but instead, Tim spreads Carl’s ass cheeks and looks at me, gives me a wink.
I feel my heart race as I realize that Tim wants me to fuck Carl. I get to my feet and level my cock at Carl’s waiting hole. It’s gaped open just slightly from the hugeness of the cock that has just been inside it, and it’s dripping with a mix of fluids — sweat, spit, and pre-cum — from all three of us. I move in, put my hands on Carl’s hips and press the tip of cock against his hole. For a moment I look down to see my erection protruding from my hairy body, poised at the precipice of Carl’s perfect ass, suspended over Tim’s thighs and insanely huge cock. Static flares across my vision but I blink it down. I press my cock head into Carl’s hole and feel his tightness squeeze me as I begin to push into him. Carl lets out a low, guttural moan.
Tim grabs Carl’s face and says, “Yeah boy, show us how much you love that cock.”
Carl reels back, pushing his ass onto me, and I feel myself slide all way into him. He pulls forward and I see my cock emerge and disappear again we start to fuck. My hips start to piston into him and I am mesmerized by the sounds we make, reverberating around the tiled room.
“Fuck, yeah, pussy boy,” Tim growls. “You like that stud plowing your ass, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” Carl moans, and he arches his back.
I reach around to grab his neck so that I can generate more force with my thrusts. Tim pulls Carl’s head back by his hair, and I look into Carl’s sky-blue eyes as I drill into him. Then Tim, stroking himself, pulls his head back down and kisses Carl’s mouth.
I feel my nuts tighten and I start to feel the pleasure mount, so I pull out and take a few steps back away from Carl and Tim. Tim immediately plunges his cock back into Carl’s ass, the force of it causing Carl to grunt and buck.
“Fuck, pussy boy, you’re gonna make me cum,” Tim says, after a few moments of Carl writhing on him, and he pushes Carl roughly off of his dick. Carl rolls off of Tim’s lap, scrambling to find his footing and breathing hard.
Tim stands up, grabs Carl, and bends him over the low tiled bench. He lifts one, then the other of Carl’s legs up onto the bench, so that Carl is kneeling on the bench with his ass lifted up into the air, gaping at us. Carl reaches back with his hands and grabs the soles of his feet.
Tim steps up and spits a huge wad of saliva onto Carl’s hole. I see the spit slide right in to the opening, which is twitching and trying to contract. Then Tim buries his shaft all the way into Carl’s ass in one stroke. Carl yelps, and I see his whole body spasm. A rivulet of transparent fluid drips out of his stubby cock. Tim continues to ram his cock in and out of Carl’s ass, then pulls out and turns to me, pulling me toward Carl. I push my cock into Carl’s ass and Tim stands behind me, hands pushing on my back, whispering in my ear.
“Yeah, fuck that depraved little slut, bro. He needs your fat cock.”
Tim keeps whispering as he rubs his hands across my back, and around to my chest, squeezing my pecs. I feel his hard cock press into my lower back. He pushes me forward so that I am leaning mostly over Carl, and I feel his hands on my ass, pushing me harder and harder into Carl as I fuck. I feel the thick rod of his cock sliding up along the crack of my ass, hot and thick.
Tim pulls me off of Carl, and takes over, driving his cock aggressively into and out of Carl’s hole, causing Carl to start grunt-moaning and shaking. When Tim pulls out and tells me to take over, I can see that Carl’s hole is completely shattered, spasming weakly. Tim slaps Carl’s ass and shakes is buttcheeks as he spreads them open for me.
“Give it to him, stud, make the little bitch come,” Tim says, with a devilish grin on his face. Emboldened, I thrust into Carl and then start stroking into him, faster now, feeling the last remnants of his ass’s tightness attempt to clamp down on my cock. In short order I feel a tremor start to rise from deep within Carl and I realize that he’s coming; his blunt cock shoots out a thick spray of cum onto the tiled bench, splattering up onto his belly, chest, and face. The muscles of his ass spasm hard, squeezing me incredibly tight, and I am about to break through into my own orgasm, my balls start to contract.
Just in that moment, though, I feel a stiff pressure on my asshole. In the delirium of fucking Carl and feeling him orgasm around my cock, my mind struggles to connect sensations, but I realize that Tim is trying to push his cock into me. The sensation is electric and terrifying, short circuiting the connection between my cock and my brain, blocking my orgasm. I shudder and try to pull away; I pull my cock out of Carl; Tim reaches around and grabs my cock, rubbing the head of it hard, causing me to buckle in response to the overstimulation. We fall to the floor and I try to writhe out of Tim’s arms, but his grip is too strong. We struggle for a few seconds, rolling around while I try to pry his hands off of me.
“What the fuck?” I grunt, still not understanding what is happening.
Tim manages to roll me onto my stomach and pins me to the ground with his huge legs. I feel someone straddle my shoulders and grab my wrists — Carl. He leans over to immobilize my arms. For a small guy, he is incredibly strong, and I don’t have any leverage to throw him off me, especially with Tim, who’s at least as big as me and more muscular, lying on my lower body.
“Get off me,” I growl. I feel Carl’s still-hard cock pressing into the back of my head.
“I thought I told you to relax, Amir,” Carl says, soothingly.
“What are you doing?” I try to sound calm, reasonable. I feel Tim spread my legs apart and feel spit hit my ass crack.
“Damn, you’re a hairy fucker, aren’t you?” Tim says. He grabs a fistful of hair on my ass and gives it a yank. “I’m gonna enjoy this. But probably not as much as you will.”
“Fuck you, Tim,” I say, through clenched teeth. I squeeze my asshole as hard as I can when I feel him rub his spit onto me with his finger.
“Now, now, listen to your little friend here, bro. Just relax, it will make this a lot easier for you,” Tim says.
I feel him rub the length of his cock along my ass crack, slowly. Then I feel the tip of his cock press against my hole. He starts to push into me. I resist as much as I can, flexing the muscles of my ass, but he is leaning on my me with both his arms, forcing my butt cheeks apart, and I feel my asshole start to quiver and falter in its effort to keep him out. With a grunt, I can’t hold him back any longer, and his cock head pushes into me.
“Fuck!” I shout, as pain shoots up my spine, like a red-hot filament pressed into my brain. Tim keeps pressing into me, driving his cock further and further into my ass. Hot tears work their way out of my eyes and I’m sputtering, begging him to stop. He just laughs and thrusts harder, working his cock into my hole like a stake being driven into hard earth. My ass feels like it’s on fire, split open, run through with a red-hot iron.
In the distance, I hear a loud bang, a smashing noise. Instantly, I feel Tim yank his cock out of me, and it feels like he is ripping my flesh out. But the pain is replaced by an immediate sense of releif — the pressure on my asshole alleviated — the acute pain of being impaled turning into a large, dull ache. On top of me, both Tim and Carl stop moving, although their weight remains unchanged, keeping me pinned to the floor. I hear the smashing noise again, closer.
I wrench my head around to see where the noise is coming from, and through a parting in the steam, I see Jamie. Not Jamie as he is, but as he was in the pictures, from before, in the house. Naked, emaciated, with sunken features and an expressionless face — the wraith. He is walking slowly toward us, along a tiled wall. My heart races. Has he been here the whole time?
He takes another step closer, then reaches out from behind his body and hits the wall next to him with a large hammer. Tile shatters and broken pieces scatter onto the floor.
I want to scream, or struggle, to leap up and run, or yell at him. But I can’t speak or move. He takes another step toward us. His other hand comes out from behind his back and between two of his fingers dangles a long nail. He doesn’t seem to be looking at me as he walks, step by step, hitting the wall with each footfall.
When he is a few feet away, his head snaps down and he focuses his dead eyes on mine. I can just barely look up at him but otherwise I can’t move my body at all. I am not sure if Carl and Tim are still there, everything below my neck feels numb.
He moves until he is standing right over me.
“Please,” I whisper, but the sound comes out as a rough gurgle.
Slowly, Jamie bends down and positions the nail in the center of my forehead.
“Jamie, please,” I gasp again, and then he raises the hammer. When he brings the hammer down, my head fills with a blazing white light.
“Son, hey son!”
The light is so bright that it hurts my whole head.
“Son!” The light moves away, then comes back. I reach up to block it from my eyes. With relief, I realize that I can move my arms, my body. I roll over and feel cold, wet tendrils on my face and arms. Grass. I smell grass and wet earth. I push myself up on my hands and knees.
“Woah, buddy, hold it,” the voice says. There’s a loud crackling sound. A voice, garbled with static.
“Yeah, we got a 6-22 over here by — yo where we at?” the voice, a male voice, says.
“Cookson,” says another voice, female.
“Over at the Cookson building. Probably on somethin’.” More crackling.
“OK, Roger that.”
I feel hands reach under my arms and pull me up. It’s dark, nighttime. I am dizzy and disoriented. And cold. There are flashing lights from a cop car or something.
“You OK, buddy? What did you take?” The voice comes from one of the hands on my arms. A uniformed man, I can see now.
“What did I take,” I say, echoing him.
“You know, LSD, molly, ketamine?”
“No, nothing,” I say. I become aware that I am standing by a large hedge running along a brick building. I am talking with two campus security officers.
“You drunk?” asks the other one, the woman.
“No,” I say. I don’t think I am drunk. Am I? Then I ask, “What time is it?”
“It’s four AM, man. We got a call that there was a naked guy wandering around back here,” the male officer says.
I look down. I’m wearing boxer briefs but nothing else. I am totally confused. I can’t remember what I am doing out here. I look at the officers. They look tired and exasperated. My mind clears enough to realize I could be in trouble if I don’t get out of this. I rub my eyes, try to concentrate.
“Hey,” I say. “I’m so sorry. This is a prank my brothers are playing on me… I’m pledging this fall, you know how it is. I… uh, I get dropped off somewhere on campus, blindfolded, and I have to get back, um, yeah, back to the, uh…”
As I speak, the male officer rolls his eyes, and the other one crosses her arms.
“I’m so, so sorry, they really threw me around, I’m super disoriented,” I say. “I was in the trunk of a car, and then some sort of bag, and then…”
“OK, kid, fine,” the woman says. “Where are you trying to get?”
“Carter.”
They sigh and look at each other, shaking their heads.
“You need a ride?”
The security officers swipe me back into the dorm and I walk up to my room with the blanket they gave me wrapped around my shoulders. Thankfully, my room door is open, I don’t have my keys. In the glow from Pete’s computer, I see he is asleep in his bed. My bed is still bare — of course — my laundry is still in the laundry room, somewhere in the basement. I scrounge some pants and a sweatshirt from my closet and climb into bed, still shivering under the blanket from the security officers.
I lie awake for a long time, trying to work out what is going on. Bits and pieces come to me, but they don’t make sense. Carl, naked? Tim…? Jamie. I shudder at the thought of his dead eyes staring at me. The details of their bodies are vivid in my mind, but what had happened? I can’t have been naked, with Carl? He’s not even on this side of the country. It is like a literal fog has invaded my brain. The same images, Carl, Tim, Jamie, Carl, Tim, Jamie, flow through my mind in a repetative sequence, until finally I give up trying to understand. The birds are twittering and the sky is light outside my window by the time I fall asleep.
~
When I wake up, Pete is gone, and it is past noon. It’s Monday, so I have missed both of my morning classes, but I am so sore, hungry, and dehydrated that I don’t really care. Every part of my body hurts. I go to the kitchen, where I have one bottle of Gatorade left in the common refrigerator; I drink it in a single, long gulp. I don’t have any food, but thankfully now that the weekend is over I can get food any time at the union. I stop to use the bathroom on my way back to the room. In the mirror, I am a complete mess. My face has dirt caked on it and there are bits of grass in my hair. I smell awful. My eyes are bloodshot and sunken-looking. My beard is out of control. And I need a shower, badly. As filthy as I am, though, I am more hungry. I shake the grass out of my hair and splash some water on my face to at least get the dirt off, then take a long drink from the faucet.
Back in my room, I don’t have a lot of options to dress — pretty much all the clothes that are still here are dirty, so I do the best I can. I can’t quite bring myself to go down the laundry room. My mind pulses with a foggy memory of strange hallways filled with steam and yellow light. Out of the fog, the memory of Carl materializes, his smooth chest rising out of a steaming pool of water.
No! Fuck!
I am not going to let… him… put any more visions or thoughts or whatever the fuck in my head. I will have to deal with this whole thing later. Now, I need to focus, get back on track with classes, otherwise… I don’t want to think of what will happen if I don’t get back on track. This semester is already balanced on a knife’s edge, I can’t deal with this Jamie shit on top of my classes. I blink past the fog and the basement, forcing down the thoughts of Jamie, grab my wallet, keys, and ID, and head to the union. I need to eat fast if I am going to get my shit together for chem lab at 1:30.
~
At the union cafeteria I load up a tray with two foil-wrapped burgers, a basket of fries, a chocolate pudding, and two apple fritters. I fill a large cup with regular Coke — I desperately need sugar and caffeine — and I have almost arrived at an unoccupied table after swiping away a painful amount of flex dollars when I hear someone call my name.
I turn and see Nadiyah walking over to me. Shit. I stumble in surprise, but manage to steady myself without dropping anything. I set my tray down on the table.
“Nadiyah,” I say. “Hey.”
“Hi,” she says. She leans in to kiss my cheek in greeting. Then we stand, awkwardly, for a second. She makes eye contact with me and then looks away.
“Do you want to sit?” I ask, gesturing at the table.
“OK,” she says, and sits down.
I sit, too, and then, not knowing what to do or say, I offer her one of my apple fritters.
“No thanks,” she says, wrinkling her nose and waving her hand. She looks disdainfully at my tray of food. “That’s, um, quite a lunch.”
“Yeah, I haven’t eaten in a while,” I say, my voice cracking. Ugh. I sound so stupid.
“So, yeah,” she says, “about, um… Friday.”
“Friday?” I say, confused. I don’t want to be rude but can’t wait any longer. I take a long sip of my soda.
“After the party? In your room?” she says.
The memory of us together in my room comes trickling, piecemeal, into my head. And then… Tim’s hand on my cock in the bathroom, and then… my hand slicking Tim’s cock with my own precum as he fucks Carl. I swallow hard, pressed my palms to my temples. Stop stop stop.
“Right…” I say, after a long moment, “… that.”
“That?” Nadiyah says, parroting me. There is irritation in her voice.
I look at her and she searches my eyes with hers.
“Are you OK, Amir?” she asks.
She keeps looking at me funny. Why is she here right now? How did she know where to find me? I have a sudden panic that Jamie might have sent her to interrogate me. I need to shut this down.
“Look, Nadiyah… I’m really busy, and… um,” I begin, straightening up in my chair. I watch her face as I speak, she looks confused and hurt as I try to explain that I can’t talk right now. I need to eat and get to lab. I don’t have time to start something, start dating. I am so busy. I go on for a while, inarticulate and meandering.
She sits quietly for a moment after I finish talking.
“It’s kind of bullshit that you assumed we were gonna start something,” she says, making air-quotes around the words.
I exhale. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” I say. I stare at my two burgers. I am so hungry.
She stands up. “Look, Amir, all I wanted… well, I just didn’t want it to be weird, with us,” she says. “But clearly… it is.”
“Nadiyah…” I say, but she is walking away. I watch her go.
Fuck. Now this is going to be a thing. Mahan will hear about it and then I’ll hear about it. And Jamie… is he working through her?
I unwrap a burger and bite into it. As I eat, my mind goes pleasantly blank. In a few minutes I have torn through all the food, but I still feel hungry. It is too late to get more, though, I need to prep for chem lab. Lecture, I can miss and make up the deficit, up to a point, but if I fuck up another lab, it will sink my chances of getting a decent GPA this semester.
I hurry over to the chem building and find the lab room. It’s empty. I feel relief; I have almost a whole half hour to prepare. I pull out my lab handbook and start to read through the material. The reading is complicated and my mind keeps jumping around. I see Carl’s milky-white, freckled torso heaving, the knob of his cock leaking fluid as Tim and I fuck him.
There is a distinct ache in my balls. I haven’t blown a load… since… since when? I can’t remember. Then I think about fucking Jamie, on Saturday, filling up that condom. I wince, thinking that Pete must have seen the used condom hanging over the side of the wastebasket. Had he cleaned that up too?
I look up at the clock. It is 1:25 PM. Where is everyone?
Just then, my organic synthesis TA walks in and frowns at me. “Amir, what are you doing here?” he asks.
I look around and realize my mistake. “Shit!” I say, loudly. This is the organic lab. It is Monday. I am supposed to be in the analytical lab, upstairs. I stand up and start rapidly collecting my papers, stuffing them into my bag. “Sorry,” I say. “I messed up the days.”
“Hey, hey, hey, wait a second,” he says, walking toward me. “I’m glad you’re here.”
He puts his hand on my arm, stopping me from walking toward the door. His hand feels warm and soft against the skin of my forearm. I look at him, surprised; he’s never touched me before. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever physically touched a professor or TA before, ever. It seems to surprise him, too. He looks me in the eyes, his mouth forming a small ‘o’. Then he lets go of me and takes a step back.
“Did you… um, get my email?” he asks, after a moment.
I think for a second, through the fog. I don’t remember an email.
“About the problem set?” he says.
I have the sudden realization that my dick is hard. He is a lot smaller than me, maybe a little bigger than Carl. He’s wearing a white button-down shirt, tucked into khaki pants. He has black-rimmed glasses that ever so slightly magnify his light-brown, coffee-colored eyes. I’ve never really looked at him before, certainly not like this. He has a thick, reddish-brown beard, trimmed short. I can see a tuft of chest hair poking up through the collar of his buttoned shirt.
He wants you to fuck him.
The thought is a shout in my mind, and catches me off-guard. I stare into his eyes, trying to discern if this is true. I see him swallow, his Adam’s apple tracking up and then down under the shaved stubble at the base of his neck.
“What about it?” I say.
He pulls his shoulder bag around from behind him and opens it. He rifles through some papers, then pulls out two pages that are stapled together, hands them to me. I look down at them. My name is printed across the top. Under the first question, on the first page, I see neat rows of calculations in my handwriting, with the solution circled.
I look up at him. “I don’t understand, did I get something wrong?” I ask.
He raises an eyebrow at me, then reaches down and turns the page over. The entire second and third pages of the problem set are covered a highly detailed drawing. I take a sharp breath. It is the same tangled network I had seen on the paper in my dorm room. The one I had assumed was Pete’s. My hands start trembling. What the hell is this?
“Want to explain this?” the TA says.
“I didn’t do this,” I say, turning the paper over again. There are more drawings on the back of the second page. The sheer amount of pencil lead it would have taken to make all these drawings… “I swear, this wasn’t me,” I say.
He stares at me for a long second. Then he takes a step toward me, bringing his head within inches of my chest. He puts his hand on my crotch and squeezes my hard dick through my pants. “How are we gonna fix this?” he says.
I take a deep breath. I set the papers down on the lab bench, then reach up and push my index finger through the hole between the top two buttons of his white shirt. I hook his top button with my finger and make a fist, balling up the top of his shirt and lifting him on to his toes so that his face is closer to mine. He grabs my forearm with both of his hands to steady him self as I pull him up.
“I’m gonna fuck the daylights out of you,” I say in a low voice.
I release my hand from his shirt and he takes a few unsteady steps away from me, then walks toward the small chemical prep room that is off the main lab. I follow him into the room. The lights are off, but there is a red emergency light blinking on the side of a fume hood. Rows of lab coats hang, ghost-like, on hooks along the wall. Chemicals in jars line the shelves and sit in neat clusters on the preparation benches.
I watch him take off his bag off and also his glasses, which he folds neatly and sets down on a bench, next to a cluster of tall aluminum canisters. He turns to me. Before I can even get over to him he is on his knees, reaching for my belt buckle. In no time, he has my cock out and in his mouth.
He’s either a natural-born cocksucker or he’s had lots of experience. His mouth is like warm silk and his hand works my shaft expertly, not squeezing too hard or too soft. I let out a long moan. This feels so incredible. I can’t believe that my instinct was correct, that this guy would go from busting my chops over a problem set — my mind blurs at this thought, there was something wrong with the problem set? — to sucking my cock in less than a minute. I feel big and powerful with his mouth on me. What is this power I have over him? Could I do this to other guys?
It’s happening too fast, I’m too close — I push his head off of me, and he is thrown off balance, he falls backward onto the floor.
“Get up,” I say.
He scrambles to his feet and I grab him by the shirt, bring him to my face, as though I am about to kiss him, but then I spin him around and yank down on his belt. His pants come down just part way over his hips, and I pull his shirt up, see that he is wearing dark underwear. I pull down his underwear to get to his ass. In the blinking red light I see that his ass is round and covered in dark hair. I grab him roughly, pushing my fingers into his hairy ass crack. He gasps and stumbles forward, trying to escape my grip, but I brace my arm across his chest and pull him back against me.
“Shhh,” I whisper into his ear. “This is what you wanted, remember?”
I push my finger further in his crack until I’m up against his hole. I push the tip of my finger into him and I feel his asshole jerk. I push further and I hear him whine and feel his ass contract hard against my finger, trying to expel me. He grunts as I jab into him, and I shush him, whispering into his ear. I move the hand I have on his chest down to his crotch. His cock is hard and pointing down his thigh. I give it a squeeze and push harder into his ass.
“You like this, huh?” I breathe into his ear.
He nods and I feel him press his ass back against my hand. I pull my finger out of him and push my cock into his ass crack. The spit he left on my cock mats the fur of his ass, and I spit down onto my cock, too, smearing the saliva all over. My cock is hard and leaking, and when I put the tip of it against his hole, a large bolus of fluid oozes out of it, dripping down onto the floor below us.
“Do it,” he says, and he reaches around to pull his ass cheeks apart.
The dark fur on his knuckles and forearms blends with the fur on his ass. I can’t wait to pound the shit out of this cocky little fuck.
I grab his hips and grind my cock against his hole. He’s too tight, he’s not ready at all, but I force myself in with a quick, hard thrust. He balks hard, and I hear him take a grunting breath. I pull out and ram into him again. He shudders, then adjusts his stance to position himself at a better angle. I pull out again and rub some more spit on my cock, then plunge it back into him. This time it feels much smoother, he’s loosening up.
I start to fuck him, and soon we’re cooking. This guy is a pro, I can tell that he knows just how to match my rhythm and move his ass so that he gets the maximum ride out of each stroke. We are both breathing hard. I am grunting softly and he starts to moan with each in-thrust.
“Harder,” he says.
I push him down to lean over the bench top, then grab his shoulders so that I can really give it to him. I find an angle where I can withdraw my cock almost completely before pounding it back into him. The glass jars on the metal bench rattle with the impact of my hips against his hairy ass. The flickering red light illuminates the whiteness of his shirt, the darkness of his hair, the flailing of his arms across the bench, the wet fur of his ass that clings to the shaft of my cock as I pull out of him. I kick his legs further apart to lower his ass just a bit more, just to the right spot, so I can fuck him even harder.
“Oh fuck… oh fuck, dude, I’m gonna come,” he says, and I feel him start to twist uncontrollably under me. I pin his triceps down on the bench to keep him from writhing out from under me. His legs jerk forward and backward, and I have to keep my hips pressed hard against his ass and thighs to prevent myself from getting kicked.
Just as his orgasm starts to fade, I feel mine coming on. I plow into his ass a few more times before I explode inside him. I grab his shirt in my fists as my cock delivers a massive load — two frustrated days worth of semen — deep into his hairy ass.
“Fuck, dude,” he says, when I finally stop convulsing on top of him.
I pull out of him, slowly, and when the head of my cock slips out of his hole, I see a long rope of my cum spill out of him. Some of it lands on the back of his pants, which are around his ankles, and the rest hits the floor.
I wipe the slick mess off my cock using my thumb and forefinger, and fling it onto the ground, then wipe my hand on his butt cheek before pulling my pants up and re-fastening my belt.
He’s still bent over the bench in the same position he was in when I pulled out, breathing hard. Cum and spit have plastered the hair on his ass into swirling patterns going all different directions. His twitching hole looks used and swollen. I am suddenly chagrined. This is my TA. What the fuck have I just done?
“I guess I’ll see you later,” I say. “In class,” I add, and immediately feel stupid.
I back out of the room, leaving him there, and go back to where my stuff is still sitting on the bench in the main lab.
I look at the clock. It is 1:45. I can still make it to analytical lab. I push all my stuff into my bag and hurry out the door.