Chapter Forty-Four - Roy
“Tough it out, Roy.” That's what Tyler told me.
“Why should I tough it out? You're quitting school.”
“Yes, but I don't need school. A degree isn't going to make me a better artist. A degree isn't necessary at all for an artist. It IS necessary for a business man. Which is what you want to be.”
“What if you're a crap artist and you have to teach art at some school? You need a degree for that.”
“Meh. People teach at community colleges with only practical experience. I'm quitting and that's it. Refo thinks we have a chance at a major exhibition.”
“Major exhibitions are in New York and LA, not Washington. You have to show where there's a big market for art. People in Washington just buy commercial reproductions, prints, and stuff for hotel lobbies.”
“Yeah, but this is Brent Michaels. He's the guy who got Congress all pissed off and got fired over 'The Garage'.”
“Double-yew tee eff is 'The Garage'?”
“Dude ...” Tyler's comment was so dismissive. I hate it when he does that just because I'm a hillbilly business major. And then he showed me the book. “It's like 'The Decameron' of gay art,” he explained although I had no idea what that meant either.
What it was was an awesome display of every kind of gay sex you can imagine and some kinds that I'm still trying to figure out; and some of the pictures were hot enough for a fuck book. No wonder congressmen called it pornographic. I could feel myself getting hard just looking and 'naked art' hasn't got me hard since the first time I got fucked.
“This isn't making me feel any better,” I told him. He tried to take the book back and I held on to it. “Awesome … look at this dude … he looks like Vince, doesn't he? You think Vince's dick is that big?”
“How would I know? And don't drool on that picture. The book is out of print. Anyway, Roy, you can't quit school just because you're horny.”
“I could transfer to James Madison and commute from Mike's house. I could do that in September.”
“No, you couldn't. The deadline for applications was last May. You wouldn't get in until January and then you'd almost be finished here. You're stuck. Plus William and Mary is a better school. You either need to jack off more or find a hook-up.” Tyler paused and then smiled. “Don't look at me! I ain't fucking some hillbilly business major. I'm saving myself for a sculptor – they're good with their hands and stuff.”
“I'm gonna miss you when you're gone, Tyler.”
Which was true. Tyler was a great roommate. Clean. Paid his share of everything. Quiet, until lately. Would occasionally do my laundry. Pretty much perfect.
“What IS that ringtone?” Tyler asked with a grimace.
“The Sound of Money, from I Can Get It For You Wholesale.” I picked up my phone and my heart soared.
“Show tunes? Really?” Tyler laughed and shook his head.
“MIKE!” I exclaimed. “YES! OF COURSE! HOW SOON!”
“Does this mean I need to find someplace else to sleep?” Huge sigh from Tyler. “John Gooch has an empty bed, I think.”
“Do you mind? Not all night. Just for a couple hours. Mike wants to be home by tonight.”
Good old Tyler. Mike arrived fifteen minutes later and tried to tell me something about selling a dining room set in Virginia Beach; but he gave up once I got him naked. And then he told me he loves me. Usually I have to work him into to sayin' it. Butter him up and stuff. This time all I had to do was kiss him. And then a couple hours later he was gone again. It's gonna hurt being alone tonight but right now I'm still glowing.
And opening the windows to air out the room. It was a hot day though, no hint of a breeze. Tyler was such a bitch the last time saying he couldn't sleep because of the sex smell.
- - - Updated - - -
Chapter Forty-Five - Tyler
Dispossessed. Evicted almost. And the last time I couldn't sleep because the room smelled like cum for days … Which was so weird because they actually went to a motel. They must start cummin' just at the sight of each other. Not that I blame Roy. Mike is like a rock star; he can suck the air out of a room even when you think you're used to seeing him. It's easy to see why Roy wants to quit school. Easy, but still stupid. Love makes people stupid I'm convinced. Infatuation is enough, like with Otis. Why get all entangled?
So I pulled on some sweats, grabbed my sketch pad, and headed out for a couple hours of drawing whatever I might see to kill time. Before I was half way down the hall I realized sweats were the wrong choice. The day was already sultry and it wasn't even noon yet.
“Yo, Tyler Dude ...” came the call, as if Dude was my last name.
“Hey, Tony,” I answered, calling into the open door of a room identical to mine. I was always a little uncomfortable around Tony Dellasera. He was a hulking loudmouth who always seemed to try to embarrass people. He had one of those Northern accents that grates. And he always found a way to mention that William and Mary was his safety school. Yes, he was good looking in a swarthy way; but it was the kind of good looks that almost repelled your gaze, as if you might catch something if you looked at him too long. Plus, last year one night when he was drunk I sucked his cock. He has never said a word about that, so I am hoping he doesn't remember.
I'm not proud of that cocksuckin' business. In fact I wish I hadn't done it. A couple of beers made it seem like such a good idea and it just happened. Outdoors. Nighttime. Furtive and fast. I don't think either one of us really wanted to do it. But we did … or at least I did. He leaned back against a tree and let me. I never even pulled his pants down. Dick plus mouth equaled connection. And he zipped up quickly once it was over. It was a real 'boy, was I drunk last night' moment.
“Tyler, you have your sketch pad. You going out to draw?”
Duh! Obviously, I thought; but I said a polite, “Yes, sir,” and kept on walking.
“You want to draw me?” Huh? I turned in surprise. He stood in the doorway wearing a wife-beater and some loose shorts, his boxers, maybe. “I'd like something to put in my portfolio that's non-photographic. Maybe a caricature? If you can do that kind of thing. I'll pay you out of my first gig.”
My professor said to pick something challenging. Outside your comfort zone, he said. Tony was way out of my comfort zone; I felt on edge just being around him. The never-addressed, unresolved cocksuckin' business was only part of it. He was one of those people who just … “Sure. I can try – see if you like it.”
He locked the door as I entered his room. That was a sure sign of something and I knew it. What am I doing? I asked myself. But it was too late. Here we were in his room.
“I locked the door because I figured you'll want me to pose naked, right? And we don't want any sudden visitors, do we.” That wasn't even a question.
“Naked's up to you. I thought you just wanted a head-and-neck.” He already had the wife-beater off.
“That would be good, but a full body would be ok, too.”
“Wouldn't somebody want a photograph for that? You can't fake a photo.”
“Yeah, well, I'll include that too. I just want to dress up the front and back covers. So I'll stand out in a pile of other guys.”
“Ok. Let's start with the head.” He sat on his bed with the light from the window nicely shading his face and I began drawing.
“So,” he began. Do all New Yorkers start conversations with 'so'? “So, we've been reading Streetcar in class. You know, the Tennessee Williams play?” I grunted a yes. “And the motivation is really confusing. Like why would Stanley even be interested in Blanche when he's already got Stella who's younger and hotter? So Stella was pregnant but that wouldn't have stopped Stanley. My dad said he thought I'd be born with a bunch of little dents in my head 'cause he fucked my mom on the way to the hospital.”
“I don't know the play,” I told him and continued drawing.
“It's like ... she annoys him like a fly and instead of swatting her he rapes her. Of course they're drinking a lot, but she knows she's pushing him to a dangerous point and she does it anyway. So, let me see how you're coming.”
“It's not nearly done,” I protested, but he got up and stood behind me. I thought it was a good likeness and I was in the process of adding more dramatic shadowing. I felt his hands on my waist and his breath on my neck. Oh, shit, I thought. He hooked his thumbs into my sweats and slowly pushed them down.
“You want this, don't you?” he whispered as he moved in. I could feel his cock brushing up against me. I told him no, but my erection betrayed me. “You've been wantin' this since you sucked my cock.” He bit my neck. It was no love bite; it was a real bite to hold me in place, the way a dog bites a bitch. He bent me forward and tried to force his cock into me. He spit in his hand, slicked himself up, and tried again. I felt his cock enter me part way and then it popped out. He tried and failed a couple of times and then snarled, “Let me in, God damn it!” He reached around and grabbed my cock with one hand and squeezed my balls with the other. I gasped in pain and he relented, at the same time getting his dick into me all the way. After a few thrusts he popped out again and let out a strangled cry of frustration.
Wanting to avoid any physical reaction and without thinking much, I told him to lie on the bed. I climbed on top of him and with my hand guided his cock into me. I rode him up and down careful to keep him inside me. To ease the pain I stroked my cock. He came almost as quickly as he did when I blew him. At the same time I lost control and came.
I came a lot. The first spurt left a trail of come from his pecs up his chest to his neck. The second spurt hit his face. He protested and the third spurt went right in his open mouth.
We were both still gasping as I cleaned him up with his shorts. “Sorry about the cum shots,” I told him. He just glared at me still trying to get his breath. I dressed hurriedly and went to the door.
“Tyler,” he called to me. “Come back Tuesday; my roommate will be out all night.”
I looked back at him. He lay naked on the bed with that awesome post-fuck look on his face. I felt dirty and used. I was disgusted with myself. “Ok,” I told him.
So was it really rape? Had I just been raped? Could I have stopped him? After we moved to the bed, I was in charge. I don't know. It was confusing. Yes, it was rape. No, it wasn't. Yes, it was. Well, sort of, it was. But I showed him how to do it right! I came! I told him I'd go back and do it again on Tuesday! Roy said it was rape and I could barely keep him from calling the campus cops. I was an idiot to tell him, but I guess I looked like shit and it just came out. I cried a little, feeling sorry for myself.
All I can say now is, if you have to get raped, it's best if the guy has a small dick. Just my advice - take it for what it's worth. Poor Tony. Five inches at best.
Tuesday he said, “I wasn't sure if you would come.” He barely raised his eyes to me.
“I wasn't sure either. I debated about it. But I want my sketch pad back, so here I am. And we're not repeating that scene.”
“No, of course not. I'm sorry. Truly sorry.” And he seemed to be as sorry as he claimed.
“You looked funny eating my cum,” I told him, figuring let's get it all out there.
“I bet,” he said, looking me in the eye for the first time. He looked very different without the sunlight coming in the window. He looked paler, less intimidating.
“So,” I said, unconsciously mimicking him, “Shall we get back to art?”
“Ok, I want to do the body sketch this time.” He was naked in seconds and asked, “How should I pose?”
“Well, you could ...”
He interrupted me. He came up and kissed me, softly but full on the lips. Instinctively my arms went around him and I felt him … this is so hackneyed … I felt him melt into me. Every fiber of his body was inviting me to his bed, but I had to take the lead. Except for his kisses, he was totally passive. He moaned when my cock first entered him and he showed pain when I fully penetrated. I hesitated, but he whispered, “No, do it.”
I think I gave him a pretty nice ride, nicely timing our climaxes to near simultaneity. He kissed me a lot when it was over and I was close to congratulating myself when he went serious.
“Awesome! NOW I get how Blanche felt. How she NEEDED to get fucked. The rape scene obviously wasn't satisfactory to either one of them, but tonight's kind of sex was what she wanted … needed really, even if she was getting old. She was grabbing for the last of her youth. That's what Williams was saying ...” He smiled at me in a totally detached way, as if we were talking in a Starbuck's.
“You fuckin' DRAMA MAJOR! All this shit just so you can understand some stupid plot in a play?” I was pissed off and couldn't really account for it, although this night's sex had been pretty sweet in my opinion. Not Tony's apparently.
“You need to understand externals to understand yourself,” he answered in the borrowed words of some professor.
“So you go around raping people and then makin' love to them? Just so you can 'get' some point in a play?”
“Why do you think I let you blow me last year? We were reading Rebel. I thought you understood. I needed to understand Dean's and Mineo's feelings for each other. Dean and Mineo were so awesome in that. And nobody knew they were actually gay. Doesn't the irony just blow you away?”
“How would you like a dick in your ass to blow you away?” I had no idea why I was so pissed off.
“Really? You got more?” He sounded like a doctor accepting a second pint of my blood.
I slow-fucked him and made him cum. He liked it and asked me back on Friday. “Eeehh, I'm going to Harrisonburg to work on an art exhibit Friday.” He made another offer. I hemmed and hawed. He asked again, add a 'please' and I said “Oh, alright, Tuesday.”
