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The Fuck Itself.
22A: THE FUCK ITSELF, Part 1
Andrew had been surprised when I had switched places with him after I had finished in his ass and told him to fuck me in the ass the same way I had just fucked him. We were in his secret hideaway fuck•spot in the library sub-basement for what was supposed to be a quickie, but 15 minutes had turned into an hour (or more) of flip-flopping. Andrew’s energetic reaming of my ass had been on the verge of ending when we heard a loud knock on the door of his supposedly ‘orphaned’ storage room.
I finally gave up studying for my Euro exam a little after 10:00 p.m. and headed home, where I had committed myself to tell John about The Fuck Itself, something I was definitely not looking forward to. I consoled myself with the fact that I had built the story up so much – unintentionally – that it wouldn’t be nearly as interesting or as shameful as John was probably expecting. ‘After all,’ I thought, ‘how bad can a story really be when everyone involved in it ends up getting laid and feeling pretty fucking sporty about it?’
Right. For a great example of just how fucking bad a story could really be when everyone involved (or at least the principal participants) got fucked in the ass and got their rocks off, I didn’t need to look any further than earlier that afternoon when I had stupidly let that little fucking psychopath lead me by the hand through a basement labyrinth and straight into his lair and the biggest trap I had ever walked into in my entire life. A fucking sex-crazed psychopath (with a very large penis) who had introduced himself to me as MY fucking blackmailer only four days earlier, and I had lustily allowed him to lead me to my near-doom like a lamb to slaughter. For Christ sake’s I didn’t even know his last name, where he was from, what his fucking major was (not that I had needed any of that information when I had fucked him in the ass the first time) - shit, I didn’t even know if he really was a student at Wash U.
Two principal thoughts had occupied my mind - to the exclusion of 19th Century European History (‘and then Bismarck fucked the Paris Commune in the ass…’) – all afternoon (following my escape) and right up until the moment I had called the dogs and pissed on the fire of my Euro grade:
No. 1: If the pervert who had taken me by the hand and led me through that labyrinth had been a full-fledged psychopath, instead of a junior psycho, I could have just as easily been a sure-enough slaughtered lamb (or worse) instead of just well-fucked and scared shitless (for a minute or two).
No. 2: If the junior psychopath that actually did lead me by the fucking hand straight into his lair and his even more incompetent accomplice hadn’t hopelessly bungled their crime from start to finish, I would be driving home tomorrow to explain to my dad that I had just been expelled from college for buttfucking an alleged freshman in a library closet. That’s the absolute best thing that could have happened if those two fucknuts had had a shred of competence between them. I might well have been arrested for raping that kid – I had no idea what he had actually intended to do with the photograph(s) his moronic accomplice was supposed to take but totally fucked up.
The ironies of the situation I had just gotten myself into (and out of) abounded, but at least I was clear-eyed enough to recognize the irony. I had two personal favorites, and had vacillated back and forth most of the evening as to which irony was truly richer. The one I leaned toward, because it best demonstrated my utter and unfathomable gullibility, was that when I had first surveyed Andrew’s hidden lair in the bowels of the library, I had whole-heartedly approved of it as not only a ‘safe’ place to fuck a freshman in the ass, but I had even observed that it was “the perfect setup.” I had that actual thought and no alarm bell sounded, no red flag waved. Are you fucking kidding me – the guy who sees a trap everywhere??
The close second, because it best demonstrated that but for sheer dumb luck I would have truly been fucked, was the fact that since I had also “let” the junior psychopath fuck me in my ass (and deeply), when the incompetent photographer burst into the – surprise! – unlocked lair, the one blurry photo he was able to take showed nothing but Andrew’s hairy ass. More specifically, it showed that hairy ass just after the Incubus had pitched forward on top of me, ejaculating a huge load of cum (into a condom buried in my ass) in the process, thereby obscuring the face and any other identifiable feature of the person who the Great Hairy Gymnastic Ass had just finished fucking silly.
This second irony in fact saved me, but I had to discount it as a favorite due to the further irony that my ass would have been long gone – and I do mean long, that kid apparently fucked me at three-quarter speed for about half an hour – had I not (a) so magnanimously insisted on flip flopping with the junior psychopath; or (b) so greedily insisted that the junior psychopath shove his John-sized (almost) cock up my ass since I was going to be inconvenienced out of having John’s actual cock up my ass later that evening. So much for ‘Get in, Get off, Get out.’ Of course, if the imbecilic sidekick hadn’t gotten lost in the labyrinth after having first gotten lost on the floor above it, he would have arrived in plenty of time to catch me pounding poor little Andrew’s ass, as the little perverts had planned.
I could go on and on about that afternoon’s sordid fucking mess but I can’t stand to think about it, even after the passage of years. But just to give you the barest bones of how this caper flamed out, when we heard the knock on the door – obviously a signal to Andrew – he was about one second away from blowing a gusher, which he did in fact blow, as noted above. Even at the knock on the door I didn’t smell a trap, I “just” assumed some maintenance worker had gotten lost, but that relatively mild thought was terrifying enough. I shushed Andrew, holding him still, thinking we could just wait a few minutes…that if we were perfectly quiet the janitor would just go away, and as soon as the coast was clear we could get dressed and high-tail it out of there.
Immediately after having that reassuring thought (‘stay calm and all will be well’), though, the unlocked door burst open and Andrew’s deranged sidekick jumped inside, trying to steady his phone cam long enough to snap a photo with which to bury my ass. He was such a wrecked bundle of nerves that he failed to realize that the buttfucker he was photographing was his own partner and not your’s truly. But at that moment I had no idea what his viewfinder had found.
As the horrible smegma of ‘unlocked door’ + ‘intruder’ + ‘camera’ registered in my brain I let out a bloodcurdling scream – involuntarily, not planned. My scream so startled that little ass-wipe that HE screamed, bobbled and then dropped his phone, considered trying to retrieve it, then gave up that idea and ran like hell. I threw my newest fucking incubus friend Andrew onto the floor on the opposite of the table from the phone, then rolled off the table toward the phone and grabbed it. Having separated Andrew in that process from his cum-filled condom I pulled that dripping mess out of my ass and flung it on him.
When I opened the photos on the phone, I nearly collapsed in nervous laughter and relief - all I could see of our scene was one blurry shot of Andrew’s hairy gymnastic ass pitched over on top of an unidentifiable body, which I deleted anyway. I also saw more than a few pix of Andrew posed with all manner of shit stuck up his ass, Andrew jacking off, cumshots, a selfie of Andrew sucking off the phone’s owner, etc.
I had intended to smash that phone to bits but thought better of that idea. “Tell your little friend that he can collect his phone at my apartment at noon tomorrow, after I’ve transferred all of these hot pics…Seriously, Andrew, you stuck a banana – past the midpoint - up your ass? And what’s that…a hammer?”
Andrew, not unreasonably, appeared to be scared shitless himself. He had gotten to his feet and he jumped when I unexpectedly kicked the lair door closed. He couldn’t know it but my only intent in closing the door was to prevent the real maintenance personnel from strolling in while I cleaned up (barely) and got dressed so I could flee. Andrew didn’t move or make a sound while I grabbed a handful of Wet Ones (which Andrew had promised would be available) and wiped them quickly over my body parts most in need of having that pleasant ‘fresh fucked ass’ smell removed. Then I hurriedly dressed, and removed the lair key from Andrew’s keyring and pocketed it.
He was still standing there naked, plainly in shock. “You’re a fucking dead man,” I said as I walked out, slamming the door behind me. I don’t believe in miracles, but it was damn nearly one that I was able to walk straight out of the labyrinth that had apparently befuddled Andrew’s accomplice.
"You do any good this afternoon?" John asked as I walked in the door of our apartment. "Ha…we’ll see," I said, heading straight for the fridge. "Not one of my better days. Beer?" I asked as I grabbed one. "Covered," John said, hoisting his.
“Cool, I’m gonna take a quick shower,” I said, heading down the hall, then turned back. “Hey…tell me something…why don’t you ever have to study?” I asked.
John laughed and said, “Oh, I do some…but I didn’t fuck off all semester like you did…plus I’m super fucking smart.”
"Weren’t we together all semester…I mean like all the fucking time?" I asked.
"Pretty much…but when we weren’t sucking cock, I studied a little…and you sat around fidgeting, thinking about sucking more cock, waiting for me to put my book down so we could rip each other’s clothes off again."
"Oh," I said. I guessed that was about right. I drained my beer and took my quick shower, and felt slightly better when I walked back into the living room, naked, grabbing another beer on the way.
“You really know how to get my attention,” John said.
"I’m not trying to. I think I figured out that naked is good for confession. I’m not sure why, but when I’m sitting here completely exposed I’m less likely to try to make myself look better, or not as shitty. Plus, I like being naked. I’m going to try real hard not to editorialize and all that shit. There’s probably a more entertaining or suspenseful way I could tell this, but it’s not a story meant to entertain…and I want to tell it as quickly as I can and go to bed. I’m sorry I’m fucking up our last night, but I am."
"I don’t think you’re fucking anything up…forget that, say what you think you need to say."
"When Jack and I say ‘The Fuck Itself’ these days we mean some kind of scam or game based on one of us impersonating the other, almost always with the other’s assistance, so it might involve both of us pretending to be the other one, but one of us is just supporting the main act.
"It’s the oldest twin game in the book, right? But with TFI there’s always some twist. Joe sitting in a classroom pretending to be Jack so Jack can cut class isn’t a true TFI. Jack making a mark think he’s talking to Joe, no TFI, but then Joe drops by the chat pretending to be Jack to imprint on the mark that he really is talking to Joe, TFI. Got it so far? Because I’m nearly done."
"I thought this was a long story," John said.
"Funny thing is, so did I. But when I strip away all the justifications, all the build up, the why’s, the anguish and hand-wringing, leave out all the anatomy lessons, the coaching and my failures to score despite the coaching, toss out all the planning and, yes, the practice, there’s not really that much left to it after all.
"One caveat, if sex is involved we probably call it TFI even if it’s just a simple impersonation. So if I run into, say, Lacy, in a bar and just talk to her for a few minutes pretending to be Jack, then shove off, it’d be a real stretch to call that TFI. But say I’m trying to pick her up while pretending to be Jack - for sure we’d call that TFI, though technically it’s not. Just - listen to me, would you? Jesus - ‘just’ fucking Lacy while pretending to be Jack, we’d call that TFI today, but the original Fuck Itself was more than that.
"Actually, we used to call all our impostor games Double Play or DP but we changed the name, not on purpose, but you know how somebody says something and it just sticks? We’re in the planning…really, the practice phase of the Lacy DP, and Jack is coaching, teaching me, showing me how to fuck a girl…Not how to talk to her first, take off her bra, but -mechanically—"
"Showing you how to fuck? " John interrupted. "Sorry, but I had to ask."
"No, it’s ok, if there’s anything funny at all about TFI, and there’s not, but it would be that, Jack showing me ‘how to fuck’…the least un-funny part of the whole deal.
"See, this wasn’t just one weekend where Jack said ‘OK, baby bro, we’re gonna get you laid tonight’…well, actually, that IS how it started, but I was dismal at it. I’d never even had my hand in a girl’s panties…I mean, that was terra incognito to me…no real idea of what was down there, how to get there or what to do if I did arrive. Jack would set me up with somebody he thought was sure to fuck me even if I didn’t fuck her…but I regressed, if that was possible. I couldn’t get to the threshold, let alone across it.
"My ‘coach’ became increasingly frustrated, but he was determined to get me laid, more determined than I was, and one day he just blurts out, ‘Goddammit Joe, it’s not like I can just fuck the chick for you…’ and he stops, then says, ‘Well, maybe I can fuck her for you, after all, but you’re still going to have to bat cleanup.’ That was when he got the idea for what we at first called ‘the Lacy DP.’
"Jack had fucked Lacy a few times, always, or usually at least, in the garage apartment, he knew her M.O. - or they had a routine, see - and she had never met me…all of which made this—"
“‘The perfect setup,’” John completed the sentence for me.
"Right," I said, "actually, now that I think about it, there are a few things about TFI that are at least relatively funny, not funny…but compared to the rest, funnier…Anyway, here’s the way Jack drew up the DP…oh wait, Jack told me he’d been with Lacy maybe four or five times and every time he’d fucked her twice - he may have said ‘at least twice.’
"So the DP as designed was this - Jack has a date, a prearranged hook up with Lacy, whatever; he brings her back to the apartment, turns out all or most of the lights, fucks her - with me waiting, um, naked and ready to go, in the bathroom or walk-in closet, which are connected, and both of which have doors opening into the main room, right?
"So the plan is Jack fucks her, gets up after they’re done, goes to take a leak, I go back in his place, slip under the covers, give her the second fuck she’s accustomed to and like I’ve been practicing to do, go take a leak or whatever when I’m done, Jack comes out of the bathroom, takes her home or fucks her again, whatever."
"You said ‘DP as designed’ which reminds me you didn’t say how DP became TFI," John said, "and also makes me think maybe it didn’t go down as designed."
"Not exactly, no," and I even laughed at that, as determined as I was not to glorify any of it.
But there was SOME humor to be found in The Fuck Itself, and it really had been a win/win/win situation…perhaps with poor fooled Lacy winning the most.
Hadn’t it been that?
Breaking in the roommate/4.
Breaking in the roommate/3.
Breaking in the roommate/2.
I AM JOE’S BRAIN….COMPLETE LINKS, #s 1 - 21C
Newest: 21C: I AM ANDREW’S DICK…BLINDED BY THE DARK
2: MEETING JOHN’S DICK
3: BROS WITH BENEFITS
4: I AM JOHN’S BONER IN THE WINDOW
5: I AM JOHN’S DESPAIRING LAB RAT
6: I AM JOE’S JOCK STRAP…’INTO YOU? WHO ME?’
7: I AM JOE’S DICK…JUST TESTING
8: ‘THE NEXT THING TO HAPPEN SHOULD BE A BLOW JOB’
9: I AM JOHN’S DICK…PLAYING A ROLE
10: I AM JOE’S SWEET PEACH OF AN ASS
11: I AM JOE’S ASS…S.O.S TO JACK’S DICK
12: I AM JOE’S DICK…0PENING MOVES
13: I AM JOHN’S COCK…SHOPPING AT MACY’S
14A: YOU COMPLETE ME
14B: COCK ROCKET FUCKING SCIENCE
14C: SOME SICK FUCKING MOJO
15A: I AM JACK’S BRAIN…AT WORK
15B: I AM JACK’S DICK…THINKING
16A: I AM JACK’S DICK…ON EDGE
16B: I AM JACK’ S DICK…JUST FOLLOWING THE RULES
16C: I AM JACK’ S DICK…TWISTING IN THE WIND
17A: I AM JOE’S BROKEN DICK
17B: I AM JOE’S DICK…JUST TOYING WITH JACK’S COCK
17C: I AM JOE’S DICK…INTO THE WILD
18A: I AM JOE’S DICK…ON TRUTH SERUM
18B: I AM JACK’S DICK…WITH A GREAT IDEA
18C: I AM JOE’S BRAIN…MAKING PLANS
19A: I AM JACK’S DICK…SENDING MALE MAIL
19B: I AM JOE’S DICK …BUYING DILDOS AND MAKING DECISIONS
20A: I AM JOHN’S KNOB IN JOE’S HOLE
20B: I AM JOHN’S DICK…MEASURING UP
21A: I AM JOE’S DICK…MEETING THE INCUBUS
21B: I AM JOE’S DICK…NOT FUCKING ANYBODY YET
21C: I AM ANDREW’S DICK…BLINDED BY THE DARK
Breaking in the roommate.
Checking out the roommate.