The Perfect Life for Davey

"Why don't you wipe that off with your hands, too."

"Ugh. Tyler," I complained.

"Come on, it's no big deal. You've already got cum on your hands. Of course, if you'd rather use your mouth, you know, that's cool."

I scoffed. "No. I do NOT wanna use my mouth."

"I don't know, I think maybe you should. You've been using your mouth to argue with me. That's gettin' a little old. I think I'd rather you use it to clean my dick off, and suck this cum outta my pubic hair. But... if you stop arguing, I'll let you use your hands."

Sniveling, I scooted forward, still on my knees, and, as best I could, used my hands to try to wipe off the cum on his dick. I shook it into the trash can, and then, using my fingers, tried wiping and scooping the cum that had settled in his pubic hair. When he was satisfied, he said, "OK, that looks good. Now, before you get dressed, get me a nice hot rag to clean up the rest of this." Then he strode, naked, across the room to the futon couch and plopped down on it. With a remote sitting nearby, he turned on his TV.

I hurried into the bathroom, wearing only my briefs, and immediately washed my hands and face with soap and hot water. I grabbed a washrag and soaked it with hot water. Then I brought it to Tyler, holding my arm out to hand it to him. Instead of taking it, he spread his legs obscenely, and said, "Ah, OK, there we go... yeah, go ahead and finish me up there."

I scoffed, knowing he obviously wanted ME to wipe him clean. He pointed at me. "Remember. No arguing. Or I'll put your mouth to work another way, hahaha."

So I knelt in front of him, and started wiping his crotch with the rag.

"Ooooh," he said. "Mmmm. Feels good. That *is* nice and hot. Hey, before you get dressed, get those clothes off my bed, too. You can go ahead and make use of that laundry bag. Hey, by the way, feel free to put your stuff in there, too, since you'll be doing laundry. Might as well have it all together."

Something about kneeling before him and cleaning his crotch of drying cum, and hearing him give me orders, was making me feel vulnerable and helpless again. I could feel my balls tingle and buzz. I silently cursed them as I felt blood rushing back into my dick. I could feel it swelling, as I glanced up to see Tyler pointing the remote at the TV and pushing buttons.

Somehow he was pushing my buttons, too. How the hell was he doing that? I am not gay, and I do not want to wash his crotch, or do his damn laundry. Then I thought about how he told me not to play with myself. Like... say I decided right now to go back in the bathroom and shut the door, and "rub one out"? He said - no, he basically *commanded* me - not to do that. Where does he get off telling me not to touch my own dick... without his "help"?

When I felt he was wiped pretty clean, I folded the rag over itself, got up very quickly, and turned to scurry into the bathroom. I didn't want Tyler to spot the bulge in my underwear, as my dick was still hard. I started to close the door behind me, but Tyler said, "Hey, whoa, whoa! Leave that door open. Bathroom door stays open all the time, dude. It's just us here, so there's no reason to close it." I just looked at him for a moment, like, Are you serious? But in the next moment, I thought, Of course he is. So I left the door ajar.

Fortunately, from his angle, Tyler still couldn't see me very well, and I turned away from him, to rinse out the rag. I also took the time to try and get my dick to go down... thinking about my mother... running through tomorrow's schedule of classes in my mind... doing arithmetic problems: What is 571 plus 443?

Once I was flaccid again, I emerged from the bathroom, intending to fill up the laundry bag next. But before I passed in front of him, Tyler said, "OK, before you take care of the laundry, kneel here in front of me again." I stopped in my tracks, regarded him suspiciously for a moment, but then knelt. Oh, God, I thought. What now?

"Just kinda blow on my crotch to dry it off. I want a blow job, hahaha."

Funny. Very funny. Feeling ridiculous, I sat on my ankles in front of him, put my hands on my knees, and leaned forward to blow-dry his crotch.

After I gathered up his laundry in his cloth bag, I hung it inside the closet. There was only one closet, and the floor of it was full of his shoes, and a couple of boxes of sports equipment, and dumbells and such. He had a few clothes on hangers, and I'd found room to hang some of my clothes as well. The top shelf was free for whatever I might want to put there. We each had a dresser, provided with the room, so most of my clothes and other things had been placed in my dresser's drawers.

Once I'd closed the closet door, I couldn't wait to put my clothes back on. I scurried over to where they lay on the floor, close to Tyler's desk, where he had flung them earlier. After I picked them up, though, I hesitated. My roommate had sprung so many surprises on me over the last hour-and-a-half that something made me stop... and turn to him... I held my clothes in my arms, looked at Tyler, and asked, "Can I ... get dressed now?"

Tyler shrugged. "If ya want to. Is your dick hard?"

"No."

"You don't feel like rubbin' one out? 'Cause if you do, I'll help you."

Sniveling a bit, I said, "I-I-I-I... I'd, uh..."

"What?"

"Tyler... um... I'd really rather... I don't... um..."

"You don't what?"

"I don't... need... um... help to, uh..."

"Oh, you're gonna say you wanna just jerk off alone?"

"Yes!"

"Sorry, roomie. Not allowed. I'm not-"

"Not allowed!?? Ugh. Tyler..."

"Right, not allowed. We'll take care of each other, dude. That's what roommates are for. I don't have my girlfriend here, you don't HAVE a girlfriend. I'll look out for you, and you're gonna help me out, too."

"I don't WANT looking out for."

"There you go arguing again, Davey. I keep tellin' ya you're just gonna need to do what I say, 'cause I'm gonna get my way. I work out. I have muscles. You're ... scrawny, dude. No offense. I like you OK. You're weird as hell, studying the day before classes even start. Hahaha. You're a little out there. And I can see you're kinda anal, worried about clothes on the floor and shit. But that's OK. You can keep the place picked up for us, keep our laundry clean - that'll be a big help - that's cool as shit.

"But anyway, I'm kinda used to having my own way at home, so I need you to help me out that way, here at college. Especially if I get horny. Shelly's hours away, I'm gonna need you to help me out. So yeah, you can't just be jerkin' it whenever you want, when I'm not around. You'll help me get off, and I'll help you get off."

I just scoffed again, and thought, Of all the other freshman guys at this university, why, oh WHY, did they assign THIS one as my roommate? I stood sighing, and shaking my head, looking upward as though to the heavens. Then that helpless feeling washed over me again. Glancing at Tyler, reclining stark naked on the futon, watching some game on TV, I felt that familiar buzz in my balls again. Oh, shit. Are you kidding me? I'm starting to get hard again?

I turned away from Tyler and stepped into my pants. I tried some mental tricks again, to get rid of my erection. By the time I was fully dressed, I was soft. I pulled Tyler's desk chair out, and rested a minute, staring blankly at the TV. I couldn't even tell you now what sport he was watching.

I decided that since direct defiance didn't work, perhaps there was a way I could negotiate with Tyler, so that he would not expect me to participate in ... well ... rather GAY ... what would you call it? Masturbation play? What could I offer him that might get him to agree NOT to grab me by the hair and force my face into his crotch?

I *could* have offered to do his laundry all semester if he left me alone. But obviously... I didn't have *that* as a bargaining chip. I didn't have a car, or I could have offered him the use of that.

"Tyler," I asked. "What kind of student are you? I mean ... what kinda grades do you get?"

"Ha. All of 'em! Hahaha. You name a grade, I've gotten it. I get As, I get Fs. Just depends on whether I like the class or not."

"What courses are you taking this semester?"

"Ohh, I don't even remember. My schedule's there on the desk somewhere."

I fished around, and sorted through various papers lying on his desk, until I found it. I looked it over, then said, "OK, tell me how you think you'll do in each of these. Anthropology?"

"Uhhh... I don't even know what that is, hahaha. What is it?"

"Uh, it's like... um... ancient cultures... um..."

"So kinda like history?"

"Kinda."

"That one should be all right, then. I can remember history stuff pretty well."

"OK... how 'bout College Algebra 2?"

"Mmm... I'm not bad in math. I should get at least a C."

"English Composition?"

"Mm, not a favorite. That one I might need your help with."

"OK, well... how about this: If I tutor you in English ... no charge ... and like, proofread your papers and help you with those-"

"Oh, yeah, you're definitely gonna HAVE to, 'cause I always mess up grammar shit, and my spelling's not the best..."

"Well, but what I mean is... what I'm offering is, I can help you with English, and-"

"Well, yeah, that goes without saying. I mean, like I said, my mom and girlfriend aren't here - they would usually help me with school stuff - they're not here, so you're like my mom-and-Shelly-away-from-home. So yeah, I'm obviously gonna make you help me with any of my classes when I need it. Yeah, that's part of the deal, too."

I stared at Tyler, my mouth agape, clutching his schedule in my hand. The deal? The DEAL?? What the hell was he talking about? *I* didn't make any deal! First he tells me that since he never learned to do laundry, and since I'm his roommate, and *do* know how to do it, somehow that means I am *required* to do his and mine?? Then he tells me that since his girlfriend isn't here with him at college, and I am, that somehow *obligates* me to "help" him with his sexual needs?? Then he basically tells me I'm NOT ALLOWED to take care of my *own* needs, and have to go to him for "help"? Now he's saying he expects me to help him with his schoolwork, whether I want to or not, for free, because he's used to having his mom and girlfriend do that?? What planet is this guy from?!? What kind of mutant breed of humans is inhabiting the eastern part of our state??

With a bit of a whine creeping into my voice, I said, "Tyler... *sigh* ... isn't there something I could offer you ... um ... in exchange for ... well ... see, I really ... didn't like ... you ... you know ... um, bringing yourself off, uh... you know ... on my face." I gave a nervous laugh at that point.

"Yeah, you did. You had a big ol' boner, Davey. You forget I felt it with my foot?"

"Well, I mean... *sigh* ..."

"Davey, here you go again, tryin' to start an argument. Just stop, dude. Stop arguing. Just do whatever I tell you, with no arguing, no talking back. Just do it, whatever it is. You'll be fine. You'll see."

"What about money? I have money saved up. If I give you, like... I don't know, so much money a month-"

"No, dude, I don't want your money. I'm not gonna take your money. I've got my own money, I'm good."

After I sniveled some more, feeling ever more exasperated by his intransigence, he put an end to the discussion: "Davey. Look. You need to just stop whining, dude. Just accept it, you're gonna do anything I say. You're gonna follow whatever rules I make, and you're gonna do what I want. You just are. There's no point in arguing or trying to get out of it. Like I told you, I'm used to getting my way. And I'm gonna get it, 'cause you're not the kind of guy who can fight back. Not against me, anyway. I mean, it's not like I'm gonna bully you or anything. 'Cause I like you. But you just need to let me take the lead, and you just need to follow and do what I say. Then we'll get along great. You'll see. Hey, that reminds me, bring me my phone. It's layin' there on the desk somewhere."

I brought him his phone. "Gimme your number so I can put you in my phone. Hold on ... Davey ... D ... A ... V ... E ... Y ... OK, what's your number?"

I told him, and he immediately dialed the number. My phone, which was sitting on my desk, rang, and he said, "OK, now save my number." I did.

When he was finished watching his game, he suggested we go get something to eat. In the lower level of the dorm next to ours was a food court. When we got there, he handed me money and said, "Get me a beef bowl there at the Chimi Hut, and a Coke, and I'll find us somewhere to sit." I got myself a slice of pizza at another place, then went to the Chimi Hut to get his, and then got two drinks. I scanned the seating area until I spotted Tyler, already seated at a table with two girls. He introduced me as "Davey" (I prefer to be called David; no one has ever called me "Davey" before), and we sat with the two girls and ate. I didn't say much, but Tyler flirted with both of them, and they seemed entertained by his wit. When we were done, he said, "All right, come on, Davey. We'll see you two around." He winked at them, and they said, "OK, bye. Nice to meet you, Tyler. Bye, Daaaavey." I cringed, but decided it would seem unfriendly if I corrected them as to my preferred moniker. TU was a big place, too. I might never see them again, for all I knew.

We passed the evening with me continuing to look over my books and take some notes, while Tyler watched sports on TV. Every now and then, he'd tell me to get him something. Bring him his phone. Go down to the vending machines to get him a snack. I heard him talking on the phone with his mother, and Shelly. He said, "Yeah. Met my roommate. Davey. He's from... where'd you say you were from?"

"Bellewood," I said.

"Right, Bellewood. Uh, it's west of here, I think."

"Yeah."

"Yeah, west. Yeah, he's cool. I like him. We're gonna get along great."

I thought, Well... YOU're gonna get along great. I don't know about me.

When I was ready for bed, I changed into some pajamas. Tyler laughed and said, "You wear pajamas? Ohhh, man. You're definitely a strange one, Davey." I didn't care what he wore, or didn't, when he went to bed, but he volunteered, "I just sleep in my underwear. Sometimes I even sleep naked. But that's usually after sex with Shelly, so... probably underwear here." Then he got off the futon, stood up, and said, "Well, hey, before you go to bed, let's take care of gettin' you off. You didn't cum earlier, so let's take care of that."

I sniveled, and said, "Uh, no, that's OK. I really just wanna-"

"Ahh, come on now, Davey, don't start arguin' again. Come on, come into the bathroom with me." He walked ahead, obviously fully confident I would follow. I slumped my shoulders, stood still a moment, but then realized that whatever was coming, I would probably hate it more if I tried to resist. So I followed.

After stepping through the bathroom doorway, Tyler stripped off his shorts. He was not wearing a shirt, so after he tossed the shorts out of the bathroom and onto the floor, where they skidded past me, he stood in only his jockeys. "Go ahead and take those pajamas and your underwear off. Get naked." Feeling helpless, I complied, setting my clothes in a pile beside me. "OK, come over here behind me." He moved aside, and I stepped behind him. He positioned himself in the bathroom doorway, facing away from me, while I stood between him and the sink. Looking over his shoulder at me, he said, "OK, get on your knees, and put your hands behind your back."

When I did, he backed up toward me, and brought his butt to within an inch or two of my face. "You never got a good look at my ass in these, did you? Looks good, doesn't it?"

I just scoffed, hoping he didn't expect an actual answer.

"You know what we need? Some kind of lube. You don't have any lube, do you, Davey?"

"Lube?"

"Yeah, you know, like... wait, what about lotion? You have any kind of lotion?"

"Yeah. Some hand lotion."

"Is it in here? In the cabinet or something?"

"Yeah."

"OK, stay right there." He then turned around, and leaned into me to reach for the medicine cabinet above the sink. In doing so, he pressed his jockey-clad dick right up against my face, which had nowhere to go because the porcelain sink was right behind my head. I winced as he shifted himself this way and that, to find the lotion bottle. When he found it, he stepped back (thank God), and squirted some of the lotion into one hand.

He turned back around and said, "OK, now come forward on your knees so you can get a really good look at my butt. Does it smell sweaty, by the way? I never did shower after playin' basketball today. These are clean jockeys, though, so it shouldn't stink too much. Does it?"

"Umm... no, it... doesn't... stink."

"Does it smell sweaty, though?"

"A little."

"Put your nose right up to my shorts so you can get a really good whiff."

"Ugh. Tyler," I whined.

"Come on. You know how this works. You're gonna do what I say eventually, so just do it."

I put my nose against the fabric of his jockeys, trying, if possible, to make only one molecule of each come in contact. Just then he bent forward at the waist, pushing his butt up against my face. Reflexively, I pulled my head back.

"Come on," he said, "Press your nose up to my crack. Right in the crack. Keep it in there. Keep your hands behind your back, too. Push your hips forward a little, so I can reach your dick."

"What?"

"Stop ARGUING, Davey. You heard what I said. In fact ... hold on..." Just then he walked away from me, leaving me kneeling on the hard tile floor, with my hands behind my back, and as I looked down, I saw... god dammit ... my dick was sticking straight out. I sighed, drinking in just how ridiculous this whole situation was, thinking, WHYYYYYY couldn't I have gotten a NORMAL guy as a roommate?

Tyler went to the closet, opened it, and rooted around in one of the boxes on the floor. When he came back, he held a roll of duct tape. He tore off a piece, and said, "OK, this will help. I don't wanna hear you whining and arguing, and also I want you to be able to really breathe my ass." As I looked up at him with my helpless, pleading eyes, he slapped the piece of duct tape right over my mouth. I started to bring my hands out from behind my back, in a reflexive act of defense, but quickly realized that was pointless. I put them back, and held my right wrist in my left hand. "I could use this on your wrists, too, but hopefully we won't have to do that? Will we?" I nodded in the negative. "Good. I've got some rope in there, too, which I'll probably have to use on you some time, but tonight you'll just be a good roomie and do what you're told, right?" I nodded.

He resumed his position in front of me, facing away, and bent forward again, telling me to press my nose into the crack of his jockey-clad butt. Now I had no choice but to fully breathe his ass scent through my nose. I flinched for a moment when I felt his lotioned hand wrap around my dick, and grip it. It was already hard, and as he started to stroke it, I knew I was going to be helpless against eventually cumming, on my knees with my nose in his ass.

He was saying things like, "Oh, yeah. Breathe my ass. I know it has to smell good. Shelly says it always does. If I'm right out of the shower, if I just worked out, if I've just been playing basketball... any time. I put some cologne back there, too, sometimes. Shelly even likes to lick my ass. She'll lick all the sweat off it, it's great."

I didn't think it smelled so great. I thought it smelled like dried sweat on an ass. One that poops and farts. I knew he had farted into those jockeys several times that evening, because I'd heard him. He had no qualms about ripping one out loud, while I thought farting in anyone else's presence was rude.