The Sublime Cock
21B:  I AM JOE’S DICK…NOT FUCKING ANYBODY YET

"You’re a fucking succu- a fucking incubus," I said as Andrew turned to go. He had just invited me - and fairly persuasively - to a "15 minute fuck seesion" about three hours hence.
“Maybe just an angel,” he laughed and  left me standing  in the middle of campus with a nice boner.

••••••••

'Fifteen minutes,' I thought as I made my way into the library, heading to my usual spot in the back of the stacks, 'is about all the time I can spare for fucking or anything else.' The prospect of a quickie that afternoon in some secret lair that the Incubus controlled - no time for small talk, courtesy or foreplay, just bending Andrew over and fucking him as hard and fast as I had wanted John to fuck my tender ass the second time he had railed me the previous night - was, not surprisingly, quite appealing to me. Get in, get off and get out.

I was royally pissed at myself for having so thoroughly flamed out on my Mach App exam - a sure ‘A’ that I had to have to cover some other deficits - not an hour earlier, and  some aggressive no-strings-attached buttfucking sounded to me like just the ticket.  En route to my carrel, I had made a quick mental list of what I had to accomplish before I left St. Louis in about 28 hours and started driving toward Jack:

• Spend 12 or more of those hours cramming for my 19th Century Euro exam, with the improbable hope of literally making a 100 on my last exam - nothing less would move my final grade a full letter.

• Talk to Jack that afternoon - just a few minutes, but I was in such a state over him by that point that I had to have a real conversation with him and hear his voice.

• Pack for the holidays.

• Tell John some stream-lined version of ‘The Fuck Itself’ story. I would have rather studied for and taken another exam in some class I had completely forgotten about - but even with the relief engendered by Jack’s assurance that John was not the mark in a TFI scam he was planning, I could not allow John’s Mississippi visit to begin without him knowing that score. I didn’t want to fuck up that visit by telling him the darkest story of my life (to date - there would yet be worse) immediately upon his arrival, and he had to hear it from me face-to-face, so it had to be before we left St. Louis the next day.

• Get fucked in the ass again by John, just for the sheer joy of it. That was clearly out, I knew, both because of the extra time I now had to put in studying, and because any kind of romantic liaison right after hearing about The Fuck Itself was simply unimaginable. We could more than make up for tonight’s lost opportunity Sunday night and the rest of John’s visit.

• Take John to the airport the next afternoon and then drive 500 miles like a bat out of Hell and into Jack’s waiting arms (and erection) without my cock exploding.

• Possibly fuck the Incubus in his lair. I couldn’t imagine 15 minutes more profitably spent.

With my goals set out clearly in my mind I dove straight into Metternich, Talleyrand, Czar Alexander, Count Cavano, Garibaldi, Louis Napoleon, the Paris Commune, Bismarck, etc. for two and a half hours without so much as thinking about taking a break. Empires fell and rose! Nations were born, old orders crumbled and new ones were lifted up! 1848 was a big year! I was cooking with hot grease!

When John dropped by at about 12:30 to see how my day was going, he was easily able to twist my arm into grabbing a quick bite to eat. I appreciated the gesture and knew he was right, I had to eat, had to keep my strength up - how else could I study for 12 hours and salvage something from the morning’s wreckage? I wasn’t even too antsy about the possibility of missing Andrew’s anticipated social call - though I would try to get back in time.  

Part of me knew it was fucking ridiculous to even consider fucking that kid again - or that if I just had to  fuck him again to prove my inner ‘topness’ it could and should damn well wait until a January three-way that included John. Really, that was the only ‘decent’ thing to do. 

But another part of me (guess which part) was thinking it would be smart to keep my strength up so I could  furiously and promptly fuck that freshman (incubus/bellhop) in the ass like he obviously needed to be fucked, and not in January, which would be too late.  My humanitarian side asked how, if I could ease that kid’s considerable loneliness by spending just 15 minutes of my time with him, could I seriously refuse him in good conscience? 

"Great idea," I agreed with John, "but it really will have to be a quick bite." On the way to our nearest dining option, I told him about my morning Mach App disaster and what that meant for the rest of my day and night.  He conceded that he didn’t know shit about the class, Machiavelli, my professor, etc., but said that the way I had approached it didn’t sound too crazy to him. Then he thought a minute and said, "I really don’t know the situation, Joe, and your first instincts usually are right…but sometimes you may be a little too quick to smell a trap…Just saying."  

As we sat down to our tasteless lunches, John continued, “One thing I don’t get is why you didn’t say a word about the blazer, the page being a guy, the eye witness…all that inflammatory shit…seems like that stuff could’ve been important.”

Jesus Christ! Was my sweet roommate REALLY that naive? “Here’s the thing,” I patiently explained, “all that red meat, it was just bait. Sure, although the supposedly impeachable offense was Clinton’s lie, and not the sex, if the sex HAD occurred with a male page, you can bet your balls Clinton would have been run out of office on a rail. That was the beauty of the hypo - it was all misdirection, just like one of Jack’s master games.”

"Right," John said, "but didn’t you say that Jack sometimes does that just so you’ll think there’s a trap when there is no trap?"

"Fuck yeah I get that I may’ve been wrong - that’s why I think a ‘B’ in Euro isn’t going to cut it.  But…no doubt every fucking lemming in that class jumped all over THOSE cum stains and wrote pages of drivel about how they would nail Clinton’s pecker to the wall in the Senate trial. Ta Dah! 

"But my instincts screamed ‘It’s a trap!’  I do kind of think those lemmings went over the cliff just to humiliate Clinton for little or no real advantage. To mix my metaphors,  the lemmings didn’t just jump, they cut their own throats as they went over the edge by virtually ensuring the anti-lemming candidate’s election in 2000. It’s really quite simple," I concluded.

"The way your brain works is scary sometimes," John laughed, "but good luck with all that."

"Speaking of Jack’s master games," I said, artfully pivoting to another item on my list, "Jack has pretty much assured me that the TFI reference - you know, The Fuck Itself - was just misdirection. You’re safe."

"Safe? I didn’t know I was in danger…" John said. 

"Yeah, I probably didn’t make that clear…not ‘danger’ really…but he told me you’re not…the intended butt of a practical joke…which is what I thought he had in mind for you. That was one of the reasons I felt like I had to tell you the TFI story before you got to our house on Sunday—"

Just then my phone rang. Jack was calling. “Speak of the devil,” I said. I checked the time. 1:00 pm sharp.

John said, “Go ahead, take it.” 

"Hey bro, what’s up?
 - Nothing much, just having lunch with John
- Right [I can’t talk now, not about what I wanted to]
- Yeah, heading out after I kiss this super guy goodbye at the airport…
- uh huh…oh 2:30 or 3:00, I guess
- You?  Oh good for you…
- Really? What? [Jack had a great idea! The Camp! Why hadn’t I thought of that?]
- It really is so good to hear your voice again…yeah..you, too
- Sure, I’ll give you a shout sometime after I’m on the road
- Oh, ok, I’m all ears
- Hey, thanks for that, really
- Me too, like a bro
- Good luck on yours too, talk to you later.”

"That last thing Jack said—" I started to lie to John.

"You were positively beaming," John interjected.

"Well, yeah, not surprised by that…what Jack said," I continued with my lie, "was that he can hardly wait to meet you and for me to tell you that he hopes you don’t have any hard feelings for him butting in and trying to get you laid before the spring thaw."

John laughed out loud. “I can hardly hold a grudge for that. So by noon on the day after Jack still doesn’t know?”

[What Jack had actually said was pretty much what I had told him that morning I needed to hear:  

'Look, I know you didn't think I'd ever get my head out of my ass…but no rules means no rules. It's uncharted territory for me, too, bro, but it means we've got a couple weeks, at least, to figure out together what we want to happen, no preconditions, ok? And…that I'm so fucking hard for you.”]

"I wouldn’t exactly say he doesn’t know…I didn’t tell him anything, John, but this is…I dunno, uncanny?…early this morning, he texted that he could ‘feel’ me getting fucked last night…and then he sent specific times for penetration, both of our orgasms and a lot of other shit…and the times seemed at least plausible…Twilight Zone stuff…"

"Or a series of lucky guesses," John said.

"Maybe…You should take a look later…it was weird," I said to John as we headed back toward the library, "But TFI is bothering me more now…I didn’t plan to tell you about The Fuck Itself at lunch, but I did want to say there are still reasons for you to hear it…the original was much worse than a practical joke. I didn’t at all mean to imply that’s what it was…and my gut tells me I have to tell you this pretty shitty story - face-to-face - before you show up on our doorstep. So that means tonight. I’ll give you the Reader’s Digest version, but I do want to get this off my chest. Ok?"

"Ok, sure." John said. "I’ve been waiting for days to hear how Jack ‘made’ you fuck that girl."

"Lacy. And I’m going to be late, so  if you’re not awake, I’m waking you up and launching straight into it, ok?"

"I’ll be awake, Joe." He gave me a quick little kiss on the cheek, startling me. "Don’t worry, I made sure it was safe first."

"You’re the best," I said.

•••••••••1:25 pm

I was back in my carrel and there was no sign of the Incubus. I didn’t know if he had been there already and left or hadn’t been by yet. If I had missed him I knew that would be for the best, but my cock didn’t necessarily agree. ‘We’ll see,’ I thought.

The Camp! That really had been a great idea, and Jack suggesting it told me he couldn’t wait any longer to see me than he had to. Our dad had a pretty cool ‘cabin’ in the woods, with two fishing lakes on 150 acres about 75 miles north of home. I would pass within 8 miles of the Camp if I drove straight home the next night. Or I could cut 75 miles off a 500 mile drive and Jack would meet me there - still late, but an hour earlier - on Wednesday night, and then we’d go home on Thursday morning. After Jack got in the next day, he’d make sure no one was using it, have dinner with Mom & Dad, and then drive his big hard cock up to the Camp to meet me. It really was the perfect setup for illicit romance.

I pushed that very happy thought aside and went back to work. Still no Andrew by 2:00 pm, then 2:30, so I just kept studying. I have to admit I was a little disappointed, but at least I wouldn’t be saddled with the guilt of fucking an Incubus in the butt (again). A few minutes after 3:00 I got up to take a leak, but I resolved to be very careful not to injure my dick again. The main thing, I understood, was to simply piss and refrain from masturbating in front of strangers in a public place.

I was holding my dick in my hand at 3:12 pm when Andrew texted me.

•••••••

Andrew:  Sorry I’m late but know u don’t have time to get into the reasons. U got 15 or 20 min right now to make me happy?

I hesitated. Not a big deal, but I also noted the extra 5 minutes the Incubus had added. I twirled my dick around a couple of times, careful not to hit the porcelain urinal (no real risk of that happening as long as I avoided doing a pirouette with  wood). The dick felt good, as usual. It was go fuck Andrew in the ass then or kiss his ass goodbye until January. Funny, I never considered ‘never’ to be a third reasonable alternative.

Me:   20 max, sorry has to b like that

Andrew:  meet me on grnd floor by east end service stairs. I’m there now.

NP, slam bam was my idea

Me:  on my way

21B: I AM JOE’S DICK…NOT FUCKING ANYBODY YET

"You’re a fucking succu- a fucking incubus," I said as Andrew turned to go. He had just invited me - and fairly persuasively - to a "15 minute fuck seesion" about three hours hence.

“Maybe just an angel,” he laughed and left me standing in the middle of campus with a nice boner.

••••••••

'Fifteen minutes,' I thought as I made my way into the library, heading to my usual spot in the back of the stacks, 'is about all the time I can spare for fucking or anything else.' The prospect of a quickie that afternoon in some secret lair that the Incubus controlled - no time for small talk, courtesy or foreplay, just bending Andrew over and fucking him as hard and fast as I had wanted John to fuck my tender ass the second time he had railed me the previous night - was, not surprisingly, quite appealing to me. Get in, get off and get out.

I was royally pissed at myself for having so thoroughly flamed out on my Mach App exam - a sure ‘A’ that I had to have to cover some other deficits - not an hour earlier, and some aggressive no-strings-attached buttfucking sounded to me like just the ticket. En route to my carrel, I had made a quick mental list of what I had to accomplish before I left St. Louis in about 28 hours and started driving toward Jack:

• Spend 12 or more of those hours cramming for my 19th Century Euro exam, with the improbable hope of literally making a 100 on my last exam - nothing less would move my final grade a full letter.

• Talk to Jack that afternoon - just a few minutes, but I was in such a state over him by that point that I had to have a real conversation with him and hear his voice.

• Pack for the holidays.

• Tell John some stream-lined version of ‘The Fuck Itself’ story. I would have rather studied for and taken another exam in some class I had completely forgotten about - but even with the relief engendered by Jack’s assurance that John was not the mark in a TFI scam he was planning, I could not allow John’s Mississippi visit to begin without him knowing that score. I didn’t want to fuck up that visit by telling him the darkest story of my life (to date - there would yet be worse) immediately upon his arrival, and he had to hear it from me face-to-face, so it had to be before we left St. Louis the next day.

• Get fucked in the ass again by John, just for the sheer joy of it. That was clearly out, I knew, both because of the extra time I now had to put in studying, and because any kind of romantic liaison right after hearing about The Fuck Itself was simply unimaginable. We could more than make up for tonight’s lost opportunity Sunday night and the rest of John’s visit.

• Take John to the airport the next afternoon and then drive 500 miles like a bat out of Hell and into Jack’s waiting arms (and erection) without my cock exploding.

• Possibly fuck the Incubus in his lair. I couldn’t imagine 15 minutes more profitably spent.

With my goals set out clearly in my mind I dove straight into Metternich, Talleyrand, Czar Alexander, Count Cavano, Garibaldi, Louis Napoleon, the Paris Commune, Bismarck, etc. for two and a half hours without so much as thinking about taking a break. Empires fell and rose! Nations were born, old orders crumbled and new ones were lifted up! 1848 was a big year! I was cooking with hot grease!

When John dropped by at about 12:30 to see how my day was going, he was easily able to twist my arm into grabbing a quick bite to eat. I appreciated the gesture and knew he was right, I had to eat, had to keep my strength up - how else could I study for 12 hours and salvage something from the morning’s wreckage? I wasn’t even too antsy about the possibility of missing Andrew’s anticipated social call - though I would try to get back in time.

Part of me knew it was fucking ridiculous to even consider fucking that kid again - or that if I just had to fuck him again to prove my inner ‘topness’ it could and should damn well wait until a January three-way that included John. Really, that was the only ‘decent’ thing to do.

But another part of me (guess which part) was thinking it would be smart to keep my strength up so I could furiously and promptly fuck that freshman (incubus/bellhop) in the ass like he obviously needed to be fucked, and not in January, which would be too late. My humanitarian side asked how, if I could ease that kid’s considerable loneliness by spending just 15 minutes of my time with him, could I seriously refuse him in good conscience?

"Great idea," I agreed with John, "but it really will have to be a quick bite." On the way to our nearest dining option, I told him about my morning Mach App disaster and what that meant for the rest of my day and night. He conceded that he didn’t know shit about the class, Machiavelli, my professor, etc., but said that the way I had approached it didn’t sound too crazy to him. Then he thought a minute and said, "I really don’t know the situation, Joe, and your first instincts usually are right…but sometimes you may be a little too quick to smell a trap…Just saying."

As we sat down to our tasteless lunches, John continued, “One thing I don’t get is why you didn’t say a word about the blazer, the page being a guy, the eye witness…all that inflammatory shit…seems like that stuff could’ve been important.”

Jesus Christ! Was my sweet roommate REALLY that naive? “Here’s the thing,” I patiently explained, “all that red meat, it was just bait. Sure, although the supposedly impeachable offense was Clinton’s lie, and not the sex, if the sex HAD occurred with a male page, you can bet your balls Clinton would have been run out of office on a rail. That was the beauty of the hypo - it was all misdirection, just like one of Jack’s master games.”

"Right," John said, "but didn’t you say that Jack sometimes does that just so you’ll think there’s a trap when there is no trap?"

"Fuck yeah I get that I may’ve been wrong - that’s why I think a ‘B’ in Euro isn’t going to cut it. But…no doubt every fucking lemming in that class jumped all over THOSE cum stains and wrote pages of drivel about how they would nail Clinton’s pecker to the wall in the Senate trial. Ta Dah!

"But my instincts screamed ‘It’s a trap!’ I do kind of think those lemmings went over the cliff just to humiliate Clinton for little or no real advantage. To mix my metaphors, the lemmings didn’t just jump, they cut their own throats as they went over the edge by virtually ensuring the anti-lemming candidate’s election in 2000. It’s really quite simple," I concluded.

"The way your brain works is scary sometimes," John laughed, "but good luck with all that."

"Speaking of Jack’s master games," I said, artfully pivoting to another item on my list, "Jack has pretty much assured me that the TFI reference - you know, The Fuck Itself - was just misdirection. You’re safe."

"Safe? I didn’t know I was in danger…" John said.

"Yeah, I probably didn’t make that clear…not ‘danger’ really…but he told me you’re not…the intended butt of a practical joke…which is what I thought he had in mind for you. That was one of the reasons I felt like I had to tell you the TFI story before you got to our house on Sunday—"

Just then my phone rang. Jack was calling. “Speak of the devil,” I said. I checked the time. 1:00 pm sharp.

John said, “Go ahead, take it.”

"Hey bro, what’s up?
- Nothing much, just having lunch with John
- Right [I can’t talk now, not about what I wanted to]
- Yeah, heading out after I kiss this super guy goodbye at the airport…
- uh huh…oh 2:30 or 3:00, I guess
- You? Oh good for you…
- Really? What? [Jack had a great idea! The Camp! Why hadn’t I thought of that?]
- It really is so good to hear your voice again…yeah..you, too
- Sure, I’ll give you a shout sometime after I’m on the road
- Oh, ok, I’m all ears
- Hey, thanks for that, really
- Me too, like a bro
- Good luck on yours too, talk to you later.”

"That last thing Jack said—" I started to lie to John.

"You were positively beaming," John interjected.

"Well, yeah, not surprised by that…what Jack said," I continued with my lie, "was that he can hardly wait to meet you and for me to tell you that he hopes you don’t have any hard feelings for him butting in and trying to get you laid before the spring thaw."

John laughed out loud. “I can hardly hold a grudge for that. So by noon on the day after Jack still doesn’t know?”

[What Jack had actually said was pretty much what I had told him that morning I needed to hear:

'Look, I know you didn't think I'd ever get my head out of my ass…but no rules means no rules. It's uncharted territory for me, too, bro, but it means we've got a couple weeks, at least, to figure out together what we want to happen, no preconditions, ok? And…that I'm so fucking hard for you.”]

"I wouldn’t exactly say he doesn’t know…I didn’t tell him anything, John, but this is…I dunno, uncanny?…early this morning, he texted that he could ‘feel’ me getting fucked last night…and then he sent specific times for penetration, both of our orgasms and a lot of other shit…and the times seemed at least plausible…Twilight Zone stuff…"

"Or a series of lucky guesses," John said.

"Maybe…You should take a look later…it was weird," I said to John as we headed back toward the library, "But TFI is bothering me more now…I didn’t plan to tell you about The Fuck Itself at lunch, but I did want to say there are still reasons for you to hear it…the original was much worse than a practical joke. I didn’t at all mean to imply that’s what it was…and my gut tells me I have to tell you this pretty shitty story - face-to-face - before you show up on our doorstep. So that means tonight. I’ll give you the Reader’s Digest version, but I do want to get this off my chest. Ok?"

"Ok, sure." John said. "I’ve been waiting for days to hear how Jack ‘made’ you fuck that girl."

"Lacy. And I’m going to be late, so if you’re not awake, I’m waking you up and launching straight into it, ok?"

"I’ll be awake, Joe." He gave me a quick little kiss on the cheek, startling me. "Don’t worry, I made sure it was safe first."

"You’re the best," I said.

•••••••••1:25 pm

I was back in my carrel and there was no sign of the Incubus. I didn’t know if he had been there already and left or hadn’t been by yet. If I had missed him I knew that would be for the best, but my cock didn’t necessarily agree. ‘We’ll see,’ I thought.

The Camp! That really had been a great idea, and Jack suggesting it told me he couldn’t wait any longer to see me than he had to. Our dad had a pretty cool ‘cabin’ in the woods, with two fishing lakes on 150 acres about 75 miles north of home. I would pass within 8 miles of the Camp if I drove straight home the next night. Or I could cut 75 miles off a 500 mile drive and Jack would meet me there - still late, but an hour earlier - on Wednesday night, and then we’d go home on Thursday morning. After Jack got in the next day, he’d make sure no one was using it, have dinner with Mom & Dad, and then drive his big hard cock up to the Camp to meet me. It really was the perfect setup for illicit romance.

I pushed that very happy thought aside and went back to work. Still no Andrew by 2:00 pm, then 2:30, so I just kept studying. I have to admit I was a little disappointed, but at least I wouldn’t be saddled with the guilt of fucking an Incubus in the butt (again). A few minutes after 3:00 I got up to take a leak, but I resolved to be very careful not to injure my dick again. The main thing, I understood, was to simply piss and refrain from masturbating in front of strangers in a public place.

I was holding my dick in my hand at 3:12 pm when Andrew texted me.

•••••••

Andrew: Sorry I’m late but know u don’t have time to get into the reasons. U got 15 or 20 min right now to make me happy?

I hesitated. Not a big deal, but I also noted the extra 5 minutes the Incubus had added. I twirled my dick around a couple of times, careful not to hit the porcelain urinal (no real risk of that happening as long as I avoided doing a pirouette with wood). The dick felt good, as usual. It was go fuck Andrew in the ass then or kiss his ass goodbye until January. Funny, I never considered ‘never’ to be a third reasonable alternative.

Me: 20 max, sorry has to b like that

Andrew: meet me on grnd floor by east end service stairs. I’m there now.

NP, slam bam was my idea

Me: on my way

Breaking in the roommate/4.

Breaking in the roommate/4.

Breaking in the roommate/3.

Breaking in the roommate/3.

The Thinker/400.

The Thinker/400.

The Thinker/399.

The Thinker/399.

The Thinker/398.

The Thinker/398.

The Thinker/397.

The Thinker/397.

The Thinker/396.

The Thinker/396.

The Thinker/395.

The Thinker/395.

The Thinker/394.

The Thinker/394.

The Thinker/393.

The Thinker/393.

sublimecock:

21A:  I AM JOE’S DICK…MEETING THE INCUBUS

I got up very early the next morning and was in a coffee shop looking over my notes by 6:30 to make sure I didn’t whiff on an exam that ought to give me my one sure A. It’s not that Poli Sci 451 (offered every other year) was a sop course by any means - its reputation among department majors was actually the opposite - but let’s face it,  Mach App, as ‘Machiavelli Applied’ was called by the handful of political ethics geeks in the class, was so far up my alley that I could have been teaching it. 

The basic course concept was a bi-weekly seat-of-the-pants ‘What Would Niccolò Do” discussion of several fresh and still emerging crises from that day’s New York Times or, less often, the Post-Dispatch. So brushing up on ‘The Prince’ over a frothy latté before knocking this one out of the park was a mere formality. I liked what I had learned the day before about how Jack ritually spent part of his last hour before every test (jacking off), but I was frankly concerned that I couldn’t afford to “waste” that semen just now. It did seem to be in increasing demand just then.

Besides, I didn’t need that kind of relaxation before killing my Mach App exam.  I routinely  worked out the same kinds of solutions to knotty problems closer to home while I was sleeping. By way of example, I had fallen asleep the night before, after having been well and truly fucked in the ass, thinking about Jack’s text comment “we’ll do our thing(s) whether u do tex or not.” Mostly I was thinking about what he had said because of how much I liked that ‘(s)’ appended to Jack’s ‘thing’ - not trying to solve anything. But when I woke up I had a pretty good idea of why Jack had been trying to get me fucked in the ass by Tex before (I assumed) Jack would be fucking me in the ass (per my request and his stated desire) later that week. 

Jack, like the Prince, was not ‘ruthless’ but eminently practical, and relentlessly so. As it turned out, my waking idea was partly right, although there was both more and less to my notion of eminent practicality/realism. I did recognize, over my latté that Tuesday morning, the hubris in believing that I knew what ‘thing(s) ’ Jack might be interested in doing together even though he had made it abundantly clear that at least some of them involved Jack’s hard cock. 

For starters, I understood  that saying ‘what fucking rules?’ was not at all the same as saying, ‘whatever YOU want to do Joe.’  True to form, as soon as I had thought about Jack’s male mail, my phone pinged. It was almost unnerving how hard-wired to me Jack seemed to be via long distance.

••••••••

Jack:  rise n shine buttfucker

Me:  been up 4 hrs, ‘sup?

Jack:  u giving new meaning to pulling an all-niter

which btw I’m not knocking - much better use of ur time 

Me:   as hard as it makes me to hear from u @ 7am, ive got exam in 1 hr

Jack:  oh ok send male mail

Me:  that actually was funny…but sorry to disappoint Im not spendng my hr whacking off

Jack:  bummer

Me:  so sumthng on ur mind?

Jack:  said it in my opener
wanted to congratulate u on seismic fuck last nite - hope it went down as A-1 as I’m sure it did

Me:  nice try

Jack:  u think I’m fishing?  

Me:  I know ur fishing

Jack:  whatever, but i’m not going to argue w/ u abt sumthng we both know happened

Me:  haha think what u want

Jack:  last night I’m home studying 4 org chem2 - oh its abt 9:25 pm & I start feeling pressure in my ass like sum1 with a big cobra dick is trying to do me
9:33 I feel knob inside, 9:36ish big cock engaged 

 I nearly had a fucking orgasm w/o touching my dick - approx 9:39 pm

940 or so & its like I’m being slow fucked & good - I felt like Linda Fucking  Blair

abt 955 I give in - 2 strokes & boom my cock goes off like a cannon

Jack:  how’m I doing? verbatim?

Me:  it’s 720 am & I’m sitting in a coffee shop w/a boner, so thx for that

& I’m glad to hear ur having wet dreams again

Jack: LOL - 10:11 this long slow perfect assfucking finally ended - felt like dude exploded n MY ass

& it surprised me b/c I didnt know til then that tex was barebacking u

Jack: tip o’my hat to u 4 that badass move

just me & org chem last nite but I’ve never been fucked better - almost never

so yeah I know

Me:  are u sayin u’ve been fuckd n the ass b4??

Jack:  what u think ur the only one?

Me:  but I thought u are 160% top?? 

Jack:  I am bt Im also about 140% bottom

Me:  u never told me

Jack: u never asked me - I ask u shit all the time, u still dont tell me, but I do ask

Jack:  and my guess is you’ll be trying to hook up w/ the bellhop again today 

Me:  how do u know that? I don’t even know that

[[Although I had grabbed a couple of condoms and a travel-size tube of lube as I left the apartment that morning - just in case - at that moment the only person I was thinking about fucking in the ass was my identical twin. That was a thought I hadn’t had in nearly five years, but extrapolating that theoretical possibility from the surprising news that Jack had bottomed for other guys made my cock wake up for real. I was pretty sure my knees would have buckled if I had been standing up.]]

Jack:  don’t know it like I know abt ur sublime fuck last nite, so my guess is I only “know” if its a big deal to u

but I do know 1st few times I got fucked by a guy who wdnt flip I found sum guy I cd fuck ASAP  & I know ur window of opp w/ ur hot new friend will close by abt dark thirty today, so…

Me:  can I fuck you? I mean what does no rules mean?

Jack:  no rules means no rules, so we’ll see what happens ok? we’ll talk…but my seat of the ass thought is that if u can get it up you’re probably fucking me 

Me: Ok will u call me aftr ur exam? texts not getting it done 4 me 

Jack:  Sure, probly after 1 pm - u thinking phone sex?

Me: Nope - just want to hear ur voice when u tell me again what no rules means 

btw haven’t decided if I’m going to fuck that kid again or not - when i agreed to meet him after my exam my plan was to tell him adios…

Jack:  bro if ur mtg him uve alrdy decided to fuck him, bt whatevr

I say go 4 it

Me:  Im abt to b late - love u

Jack: like a naughty brother  ; )

•••••••

I scrambled my ass (and my sprained ankle) over to Mach App just in time - and with no time to get into my ‘exam mode,’ let alone unpack any of what Jack had said. How Jack knew Tex’s cock had been up my ass, I had no idea, but it did seem like he had been in the right ballpark when he had been putting very specific times - times he couldn’t have possibly known - to what had been happening the previous night 700 miles away  from him. Fuck, Jack knew more about it than I did.

And other guys had been fucking Jack’s sweet asshole? Since when? And I could fuck him too?? That blew me away even more than his choreographed account of my own grand opening. So it’s no understatement when I say I was fucking rattled when I dove - no, more like ‘waded sluggishly’ - into what should have been an easy A for me. Of course it wasn’t.

There were eight fucked-up scenarios to read through, put myself in the head of a certain designated  ‘character’ in each and explain how he should solve the problem consistent with Machiavelli’s guiding principles. I can only recall two of those scenarios - probably they stuck with me because they were the most ridiculous ones. All eight were based on historical events…but each had some improbable (and usually lurid) twist.

For example, the Clinton impeachment proceedings, only a years distant at the time:  Attack the problem from the point of view of Majority Leader Lott’s floor manager, whose job it was to try the case for impeachment in the Senate…except that Monica L. had become Mortimer L., ‘the blue dress’ was ‘the blue blazer,’ the originator of the stain on said garment was disputed - and there was an eye witness to certain non-presidential  conduct with the page.

The only other ‘question’ I recall was a manufactured vignette drawn from the Cuban Missile Crisis in which my job was to advise Air Force Chief of Staff Curtis LeMay, who advocated immediate carpet-bombing of ‘the imprisoned island nation of Cuber,’ on how best to convince JFK to follow the looney General’s advice or ‘to otherwise achieve his objectives.’ We were also specifically instructed to evaluate the possibility of a coup attempt in which Gen. LeMay had JFK, RFK, McNamara, Bundy et al arrested at gun point and hauled off to a ‘detention center.’

'Are you fucking kidding me?' I remember thinking as I began. While it was a two-hour exam, I had expected to have my 'A' in the bag in an hour, leaving me plenty of time to leisurely limp over to the library by 9:30 and explain to the hot little bottoming bellhop that I wouldn't be fucking him again (that semester)…or whatever I told him. The fact that I had condoms and lube in my pocket suggests that I planned to fuck him, but I was not enthused by the idea of another messy bathroom fuck and couldn't figure out any other logistics since I certainly wasn't going to fuck him in my apartment.

I had been sleep-walking through those BS exam scenarios for about 40 minutes, writing what I knew was turgid crap,  when I stopped and put my head in my hands to breathe myself through what I hoped was just an unusually slow start. And then I recognized the wily professor’s trap. Or I thought I did. 45 minutes were already gone…and I decided to roll the dice. I tore out the pages I had written and crumpled them up.

Rather than deigning to address any of the eight posited situations, I wrote a crisp two-paragraph essay on one of the cornerstones of Machiavelli’s political realism, his emphasis on the utter uselessness of imaginary thinking. ‘Machiavelli never would have designed a test like this one, nor would he have wasted his time in attempting to answer these questions…’ I began.

Nevertheless, when I finished my two sparkling paragraphs, I decided to hedge my bet and add one or two sentences for each scenario, either providing a concise solution to the problem or demonstrating why the entire premise was flawed. For the imagined LeMay coup attempt, I wrote, “Because ‘the new prince’ must be absolutely willing to act immorally at the critical moment in order to stabilize his newfound power and to build an enduring political structure, there can be no thought of incarcerating the dethroned prince and his loyalists - they must be eliminated.”

I gave the Clinton impeachment scenario a bit more attention because it was the most fatuous of the posited scenarios, and a pet peeve of mine. As I explained, “A calculating Sen. Lott, correctly informed by ‘The Prince,’ would have refused to play any part in the impeachment farce. If he could not, as Majority Leader, sidestep his prosecutorial responsibilities after the House impeached, he should have resigned from the Leadership. The Republicans’ greatest potential ‘success’ - the removal of Clinton from office - would have been ashes in their mouths, elevating VP Gore to the presidency one year before the 2000 primaries - considerably strengthening his chances of being elected (& the country recognizing he had been elected), allowing him to run as an incumbent president in 2000. Machiavelli would have seen around that corner and counseled strongly against participation.”

I took a deep breath and turned in my exam at about 9:25 a.m., then headed toward the library. I had lost my assurance that I had blown up a “trap” and knew that I had fucked Mach App up badly. The ‘A’ I had been counting on to elevate my semester GPA from ‘a concern’ to ‘meh’ was history - I now had to pull a rabbit out of my ass on my last exam to make up the ground I had just so arrogantly squandered.  

And Jack - who was taking it the ass! - either had my apartment bugged and me under surveillance 24/7 or he… ‘Fuck,’ I thought, taking a drag on a cigarette, ‘if you wanna read my fucking mind, be my guest, but it’s gonna be damned dull reading,  nothing but 19th C Euro for the next 24 hours …’

"Hi Joe," my new freshman friend said, "I didn’t know you smoked."

"Andrew, you don’t really know anything about me…and I don’t smoke," I said, taking a deep pull and exhaling a perfect smoke ring.

"I can see that," Andrew said, "but I do know that you’re a good fucker." He was obviously pleased by his lame double entendre. "I can’t fuck right now - fucking exam at 10 - so I thought we could hook up later, maybe around 1:00?"

"No can do. I just made an F on an exam I should’ve killed. Now I have to make approximately a 100 tomorrow or my dad is gonna have my ass. I’ll be studying until I pass out." I realized as I said that that my Mach App swoon had probably just fucked myself out of the Texas-style fucking my ass had been counting on for that night. ‘Motherfucker,’ I thought, and then, ‘It’s all Jack’s fault.’

Andrew leaned in close to me and, as he took the cigarette out of my mouth and took a deep drag himself, I got another whiff of the same clean, earthy, aphrodisiacal andrew-scent that had so excited my imagination a couple of days before. ‘Jesus,’ I thought, ‘don’t do this shit to me now.’

As Andrew returned the cig to my mouth his other hand ever-so-briefly squeezed my cock through my khakis. In broad daylight! In the middle of campus! I quickly looked around - but suddenly no one else was in sight. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I checked first.” Really? I hadn’t noticed that.

"You really can’t find time for a 15-minute fuck?" Andrew asked.
Sounds like exactly what you need.” 

"Here’s the thing," I explained, "even if I could take a little…break…I’m not doing that again in a…basically…public bathroom anybody with a key—"

"How about a super-private storeroom that only locks - and unlocks - from the inside?" he asked, brushing my cock again. It felt like…electricity. I noticed that Andrew’s face had completely cleared up.

My resistance - what tiny little bit I had had - began to wilt. But I kept fighting. “Opposite side of the same coin,” I said. “Even if I could take a short break and even if you did have a super-private place, I can’t be wallowing around on the floor, having to shower and change clo—”

"Well, I don’t have a shower…or a mattress…but you can hang your clothes in a locker…and I have Wet Ones and deodorant…IF you can spare 15 minutes to slide your big fucking cock into my hungry ass…" I caught Andrew’s eyes darting around that time so I wasn’t surprised when he groped me the third time…but I was kind of surprised how long those freshman fingers lingered and how eagerly my dead-giveaway cock gave itself away.

"Gotta run…I’ll stop by your usual spot in the stacks around 1:00, for sure by 1:30, see if you’re…up…for a quick…break," he said as he finally released my very "up" cock.

"You’re a fucking succu…a fucking incubus," I said as he turned to go. 

"Maybe just an angel," Andrew laughed as he left me standing in the middle of campus with a nice boner.

sublimecock:

21A: I AM JOE’S DICK…MEETING THE INCUBUS

I got up very early the next morning and was in a coffee shop looking over my notes by 6:30 to make sure I didn’t whiff on an exam that ought to give me my one sure A. It’s not that Poli Sci 451 (offered every other year) was a sop course by any means - its reputation among department majors was actually the opposite - but let’s face it, Mach App, as ‘Machiavelli Applied’ was called by the handful of political ethics geeks in the class, was so far up my alley that I could have been teaching it.

The basic course concept was a bi-weekly seat-of-the-pants ‘What Would Niccolò Do” discussion of several fresh and still emerging crises from that day’s New York Times or, less often, the Post-Dispatch. So brushing up on ‘The Prince’ over a frothy latté before knocking this one out of the park was a mere formality. I liked what I had learned the day before about how Jack ritually spent part of his last hour before every test (jacking off), but I was frankly concerned that I couldn’t afford to “waste” that semen just now. It did seem to be in increasing demand just then.

Besides, I didn’t need that kind of relaxation before killing my Mach App exam. I routinely worked out the same kinds of solutions to knotty problems closer to home while I was sleeping. By way of example, I had fallen asleep the night before, after having been well and truly fucked in the ass, thinking about Jack’s text comment “we’ll do our thing(s) whether u do tex or not.” Mostly I was thinking about what he had said because of how much I liked that ‘(s)’ appended to Jack’s ‘thing’ - not trying to solve anything. But when I woke up I had a pretty good idea of why Jack had been trying to get me fucked in the ass by Tex before (I assumed) Jack would be fucking me in the ass (per my request and his stated desire) later that week.

Jack, like the Prince, was not ‘ruthless’ but eminently practical, and relentlessly so. As it turned out, my waking idea was partly right, although there was both more and less to my notion of eminent practicality/realism. I did recognize, over my latté that Tuesday morning, the hubris in believing that I knew what ‘thing(s) ’ Jack might be interested in doing together even though he had made it abundantly clear that at least some of them involved Jack’s hard cock.

For starters, I understood that saying ‘what fucking rules?’ was not at all the same as saying, ‘whatever YOU want to do Joe.’ True to form, as soon as I had thought about Jack’s male mail, my phone pinged. It was almost unnerving how hard-wired to me Jack seemed to be via long distance.

••••••••

Jack: rise n shine buttfucker

Me: been up 4 hrs, ‘sup?

Jack: u giving new meaning to pulling an all-niter

which btw I’m not knocking - much better use of ur time

Me: as hard as it makes me to hear from u @ 7am, ive got exam in 1 hr

Jack: oh ok send male mail

Me: that actually was funny…but sorry to disappoint Im not spendng my hr whacking off

Jack: bummer

Me: so sumthng on ur mind?

Jack: said it in my opener
wanted to congratulate u on seismic fuck last nite - hope it went down as A-1 as I’m sure it did

Me: nice try

Jack: u think I’m fishing?

Me: I know ur fishing

Jack: whatever, but i’m not going to argue w/ u abt sumthng we both know happened

Me: haha think what u want

Jack: last night I’m home studying 4 org chem2 - oh its abt 9:25 pm & I start feeling pressure in my ass like sum1 with a big cobra dick is trying to do me

9:33 I feel knob inside, 9:36ish big cock engaged

I nearly had a fucking orgasm w/o touching my dick - approx 9:39 pm

940 or so & its like I’m being slow fucked & good - I felt like Linda Fucking Blair

abt 955 I give in - 2 strokes & boom my cock goes off like a cannon

Jack: how’m I doing? verbatim?

Me: it’s 720 am & I’m sitting in a coffee shop w/a boner, so thx for that

& I’m glad to hear ur having wet dreams again

Jack: LOL - 10:11 this long slow perfect assfucking finally ended - felt like dude exploded n MY ass

& it surprised me b/c I didnt know til then that tex was barebacking u

Jack: tip o’my hat to u 4 that badass move

just me & org chem last nite but I’ve never been fucked better - almost never

so yeah I know

Me: are u sayin u’ve been fuckd n the ass b4??

Jack: what u think ur the only one?

Me: but I thought u are 160% top??

Jack: I am bt Im also about 140% bottom

Me: u never told me

Jack: u never asked me - I ask u shit all the time, u still dont tell me, but I do ask

Jack: and my guess is you’ll be trying to hook up w/ the bellhop again today

Me: how do u know that? I don’t even know that

[[Although I had grabbed a couple of condoms and a travel-size tube of lube as I left the apartment that morning - just in case - at that moment the only person I was thinking about fucking in the ass was my identical twin. That was a thought I hadn’t had in nearly five years, but extrapolating that theoretical possibility from the surprising news that Jack had bottomed for other guys made my cock wake up for real. I was pretty sure my knees would have buckled if I had been standing up.]]

Jack: don’t know it like I know abt ur sublime fuck last nite, so my guess is I only “know” if its a big deal to u

but I do know 1st few times I got fucked by a guy who wdnt flip I found sum guy I cd fuck ASAP & I know ur window of opp w/ ur hot new friend will close by abt dark thirty today, so…

Me: can I fuck you? I mean what does no rules mean?

Jack: no rules means no rules, so we’ll see what happens ok? we’ll talk…but my seat of the ass thought is that if u can get it up you’re probably fucking me

Me: Ok will u call me aftr ur exam? texts not getting it done 4 me

Jack: Sure, probly after 1 pm - u thinking phone sex?

Me: Nope - just want to hear ur voice when u tell me again what no rules means

btw haven’t decided if I’m going to fuck that kid again or not - when i agreed to meet him after my exam my plan was to tell him adios…

Jack: bro if ur mtg him uve alrdy decided to fuck him, bt whatevr

I say go 4 it

Me: Im abt to b late - love u

Jack: like a naughty brother  ; )

•••••••

I scrambled my ass (and my sprained ankle) over to Mach App just in time - and with no time to get into my ‘exam mode,’ let alone unpack any of what Jack had said. How Jack knew Tex’s cock had been up my ass, I had no idea, but it did seem like he had been in the right ballpark when he had been putting very specific times - times he couldn’t have possibly known - to what had been happening the previous night 700 miles away from him. Fuck, Jack knew more about it than I did.

And other guys had been fucking Jack’s sweet asshole? Since when? And I could fuck him too?? That blew me away even more than his choreographed account of my own grand opening. So it’s no understatement when I say I was fucking rattled when I dove - no, more like ‘waded sluggishly’ - into what should have been an easy A for me. Of course it wasn’t.

There were eight fucked-up scenarios to read through, put myself in the head of a certain designated ‘character’ in each and explain how he should solve the problem consistent with Machiavelli’s guiding principles. I can only recall two of those scenarios - probably they stuck with me because they were the most ridiculous ones. All eight were based on historical events…but each had some improbable (and usually lurid) twist.

For example, the Clinton impeachment proceedings, only a years distant at the time: Attack the problem from the point of view of Majority Leader Lott’s floor manager, whose job it was to try the case for impeachment in the Senate…except that Monica L. had become Mortimer L., ‘the blue dress’ was ‘the blue blazer,’ the originator of the stain on said garment was disputed - and there was an eye witness to certain non-presidential conduct with the page.

The only other ‘question’ I recall was a manufactured vignette drawn from the Cuban Missile Crisis in which my job was to advise Air Force Chief of Staff Curtis LeMay, who advocated immediate carpet-bombing of ‘the imprisoned island nation of Cuber,’ on how best to convince JFK to follow the looney General’s advice or ‘to otherwise achieve his objectives.’ We were also specifically instructed to evaluate the possibility of a coup attempt in which Gen. LeMay had JFK, RFK, McNamara, Bundy et al arrested at gun point and hauled off to a ‘detention center.’

'Are you fucking kidding me?' I remember thinking as I began. While it was a two-hour exam, I had expected to have my 'A' in the bag in an hour, leaving me plenty of time to leisurely limp over to the library by 9:30 and explain to the hot little bottoming bellhop that I wouldn't be fucking him again (that semester)…or whatever I told him. The fact that I had condoms and lube in my pocket suggests that I planned to fuck him, but I was not enthused by the idea of another messy bathroom fuck and couldn't figure out any other logistics since I certainly wasn't going to fuck him in my apartment.

I had been sleep-walking through those BS exam scenarios for about 40 minutes, writing what I knew was turgid crap, when I stopped and put my head in my hands to breathe myself through what I hoped was just an unusually slow start. And then I recognized the wily professor’s trap. Or I thought I did. 45 minutes were already gone…and I decided to roll the dice. I tore out the pages I had written and crumpled them up.

Rather than deigning to address any of the eight posited situations, I wrote a crisp two-paragraph essay on one of the cornerstones of Machiavelli’s political realism, his emphasis on the utter uselessness of imaginary thinking. ‘Machiavelli never would have designed a test like this one, nor would he have wasted his time in attempting to answer these questions…’ I began.

Nevertheless, when I finished my two sparkling paragraphs, I decided to hedge my bet and add one or two sentences for each scenario, either providing a concise solution to the problem or demonstrating why the entire premise was flawed. For the imagined LeMay coup attempt, I wrote, “Because ‘the new prince’ must be absolutely willing to act immorally at the critical moment in order to stabilize his newfound power and to build an enduring political structure, there can be no thought of incarcerating the dethroned prince and his loyalists - they must be eliminated.”

I gave the Clinton impeachment scenario a bit more attention because it was the most fatuous of the posited scenarios, and a pet peeve of mine. As I explained, “A calculating Sen. Lott, correctly informed by ‘The Prince,’ would have refused to play any part in the impeachment farce. If he could not, as Majority Leader, sidestep his prosecutorial responsibilities after the House impeached, he should have resigned from the Leadership. The Republicans’ greatest potential ‘success’ - the removal of Clinton from office - would have been ashes in their mouths, elevating VP Gore to the presidency one year before the 2000 primaries - considerably strengthening his chances of being elected (& the country recognizing he had been elected), allowing him to run as an incumbent president in 2000. Machiavelli would have seen around that corner and counseled strongly against participation.”

I took a deep breath and turned in my exam at about 9:25 a.m., then headed toward the library. I had lost my assurance that I had blown up a “trap” and knew that I had fucked Mach App up badly. The ‘A’ I had been counting on to elevate my semester GPA from ‘a concern’ to ‘meh’ was history - I now had to pull a rabbit out of my ass on my last exam to make up the ground I had just so arrogantly squandered.

And Jack - who was taking it the ass! - either had my apartment bugged and me under surveillance 24/7 or he… ‘Fuck,’ I thought, taking a drag on a cigarette, ‘if you wanna read my fucking mind, be my guest, but it’s gonna be damned dull reading, nothing but 19th C Euro for the next 24 hours …’

"Hi Joe," my new freshman friend said, "I didn’t know you smoked."

"Andrew, you don’t really know anything about me…and I don’t smoke," I said, taking a deep pull and exhaling a perfect smoke ring.

"I can see that," Andrew said, "but I do know that you’re a good fucker." He was obviously pleased by his lame double entendre. "I can’t fuck right now - fucking exam at 10 - so I thought we could hook up later, maybe around 1:00?"

"No can do. I just made an F on an exam I should’ve killed. Now I have to make approximately a 100 tomorrow or my dad is gonna have my ass. I’ll be studying until I pass out." I realized as I said that that my Mach App swoon had probably just fucked myself out of the Texas-style fucking my ass had been counting on for that night. ‘Motherfucker,’ I thought, and then, ‘It’s all Jack’s fault.’

Andrew leaned in close to me and, as he took the cigarette out of my mouth and took a deep drag himself, I got another whiff of the same clean, earthy, aphrodisiacal andrew-scent that had so excited my imagination a couple of days before. ‘Jesus,’ I thought, ‘don’t do this shit to me now.’

As Andrew returned the cig to my mouth his other hand ever-so-briefly squeezed my cock through my khakis. In broad daylight! In the middle of campus! I quickly looked around - but suddenly no one else was in sight. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I checked first.” Really? I hadn’t noticed that.

"You really can’t find time for a 15-minute fuck?" Andrew asked.
Sounds like exactly what you need.”

"Here’s the thing," I explained, "even if I could take a little…break…I’m not doing that again in a…basically…public bathroom anybody with a key—"

"How about a super-private storeroom that only locks - and unlocks - from the inside?" he asked, brushing my cock again. It felt like…electricity. I noticed that Andrew’s face had completely cleared up.

My resistance - what tiny little bit I had had - began to wilt. But I kept fighting. “Opposite side of the same coin,” I said. “Even if I could take a short break and even if you did have a super-private place, I can’t be wallowing around on the floor, having to shower and change clo—”

"Well, I don’t have a shower…or a mattress…but you can hang your clothes in a locker…and I have Wet Ones and deodorant…IF you can spare 15 minutes to slide your big fucking cock into my hungry ass…" I caught Andrew’s eyes darting around that time so I wasn’t surprised when he groped me the third time…but I was kind of surprised how long those freshman fingers lingered and how eagerly my dead-giveaway cock gave itself away.

"Gotta run…I’ll stop by your usual spot in the stacks around 1:00, for sure by 1:30, see if you’re…up…for a quick…break," he said as he finally released my very "up" cock.

"You’re a fucking succu…a fucking incubus," I said as he turned to go.

"Maybe just an angel," Andrew laughed as he left me standing in the middle of campus with a nice boner.

Breaking in the roommate/2.

Breaking in the roommate/2.

Breaking in the roommate.

Breaking in the roommate.