Academic Pursuits Read online

  A college campus sex romp

  Jamie Brennan is studying English literature but majoring in seduction. Blessed with good looks, charm, and confidence, Jamie lives for the chase. He has a well-earned reputation as a seducer of straight guys, but he’s also happy to help fellow gay students out of the closet when they are ready. Jamie sees nothing wrong with having a healthy sex life, even if his amorous pursuits frequently land him in sticky situations.

  Alas, not everyone approves of Jamie’s adventures. Roger Hunt, the hunky grad student, who dresses more like a lumberjack than the talented artist he is, gives Jamie hostile looks whenever their paths cross. Jamie tries to ignore Roger, but they can't seem to stop running into each other. Every time they meet the air crackles with tension, and Jamie begins to wonder if it’s fate or design pushing them together.

  Copyright Lou Harper 2012

  Cover Art by Lou Harper Copyright 2014

  Second Edition

  Smashwords Edition

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  It’s hard to talk with your mouth full of cock. And anyway, I was fairly certain Butch Hollins’s question regarding the origin of my skills of sucking said cock was a rhetorical one. So I ignored it and kept up the suction. I didn’t want him to come too soon, so I teased him a little. I pulled off and let my tongue play with his cockhead, dance around the rim, lick the shiny mushroom head. Up until that point, Hollins had kept his hands by his sides, but just then he placed one on the top of my head and applied a modest but determined pressure. I smiled to myself: my tasty frat boy had just stepped over an invisible line. To reward him, I ducked down on his shaft. He was a chubby six inches—big enough, and I was no size queen.

  When his cockhead hit the back of my throat, Hollins sucked in air like he’d been holding his breath for the last few minutes. I assumed the dull thunk I heard was the sound of his head hitting the bathroom door. It was out of sync with the rhythmic thumping of music coming from downstairs.

  While I worked Hollins’s cock with my mouth, I used one hand to massage his balls and perineum, but didn’t venture farther. I didn’t want to spook him. You had to be careful with straight boys. I kept my other hand on my own shaft, stroking it at a steady rhythm. When I felt his balls tighten and draw up, I took him down as deep as I could and hummed around his cock. His hips bucked and his warm cum gushed down my throat. Those guttural grunts and groans he made pushed me that much closer to my own release.

  Hollins lifted his hand off my head, but otherwise didn’t move away while I brought myself to finish. It didn’t take long. My spunk splattered on the tiled floor, with a few stray drops landing on the cuffs of Hollins’s jeans.

  “Boarding school,” I said, standing and zipping my jeans up.

  “Huh?” Hollins’s eyes were still glazed over.

  “That’s where I learned to suck cock,” I elaborated.

  Hollins said nothing. Clearly, he wasn’t the chatty-after-sex kinda guy. That was fine with me. I made a half-hearted attempt to clean up the mess I’d made. I dabbed at it with a wad of toilet paper, then I gave up. I was sure the floor had seen worse and probably would see more of it before the night was over. We were in a frat house, it was Saturday night and the party was just warming up.

  I checked myself out in the mirror: there was a drop of spunk at the corner of my swollen mouth. I stuck my tongue out and licked it off. Tussled dark hair: check. Blue eyes above flushed cheeks: check. I looked my debauched best. It was time for me to take my leave before things got awkward.

  “It’s been nice blowing you, Hollins. See you around, ’kay?” I said with my friendly, it’s-no-big-deal smile I kept for these occasions.

  I gave him one last look from the door: He was a blond, corn-fed boy from the heartland. His normally uncomplicated face wore a slightly baffled expression. I gave him one last flash of my smile and left.

  ***

  Jo was waiting for me in the hallway with a bemused expression on her face.

  “All clear?” I asked and headed down the stairs.

  “There was one couple headed your way, but I scared them away,” she said, clomping after me in her combat boots.

  “You’re the best.” I leaned down to kiss her cheek, but she pushed me away.

  “Eww, Jamie. You’ve got cum-breath.”

  Just for that, I had to try to kiss her on the lips. She ducked and dodged, while I pursed my lips in fake pursuit of hers. In the end, she broke down in giggles, and I took pity on her. It’s not like I was really gonna kiss her anyway—she was a girl and my first cousin. Double eww.

  “Let’s get some beer,” I suggested.

  The keg sat in the living room, with some overeager guy in charge, who took it upon himself that no throat would be left parched in a ten-mile radius. We took our blue plastic cups and parked ourselves at the most out of the way corner of the room, but still in line of sight of the entrance.

  I hate frat parties. The only reason I came was Butch Hollins’s cock and I’d had that already. I was ready to go, but Jo stuck around to play wingman for me, and I owed her the same courtesy, even if I hated it.

  Jo had an inexplicable fixation with an MBA student, Colin Kirkwood. The guy was a total jerkwad—under the glossy surface lurked a self-absorbed, shallow swine. I’d overheard him and his like-minded buddy yammering in class more often then I cared for. I could’ve told Jo, but I knew she wouldn’t listen; she could be pretty damn pig-headed when she set her sights on something or someone, and she was fixated on Colin. So we waited. Bored, I scanned the crowd, but the only noteworthy thing I saw was a guy clad in jeans and a hideous flannel shirt. Nice body, though—he was rocking the sexy lumberjack look. He liked boys, too, I could tell. I don’t know what it is—some subtle signals of body language—but I can always tell. Just as I can tell which basically straight guys won’t mind a short detour. This one was definitely bent my way. He also looked vaguely familiar.

  “Hey, isn’t that whatshisface?” I asked Jo, motioning the object of my interest.

  She nodded with recognition. “Roger Hunt—he’s a grad student. You’ve probably seen him at the art department. He mostly does sculpture.”

  Roger was chatting with somebody, not looking in our direction. I kept casting glances at him, willing him to turn so I could get a better look at his face. He finally did: not bad. In ten years, he’d be ruggedly handsome. Right now, he was a piece of hunk with his strong jaw line and dark hair and wide shoulders. Our eyes met and I gave him my patented come-hither smile. His reaction was the opposite of what I’d expected: he outright scowled at me and turned away. Whattafuck was that about? Well, fuck him and his flannel shirt, sideways.

  Finally Colin Fucktard Kirkwood pranced in the door with some chick already all over him like cat hair on a wool sweater. Good fucking deal: now we could go. I hid my relief from Jo, the best I could.

  “Let’s get outta here,” she said, her pretty face all dark under her spiky, cobalt blue hair.

  We found our jackets and let ourselves out into the brisk February night. Our apartment was on the other side of the campus, so we had to make our way across among the ivy-covered old buildings.

  “We could stop at the Delmar, have a few
beers. Maybe they have a decent band this time,” I said, trying to cheer her up.

  “Nah. I just wanna go home and curl up with a movie. How was Hollins? He sounded like he was enjoying himself.” Jo was a trooper.

  “Oh yes, he was. I think I got enough protein to last me the whole weekend.”

  “I don’t know how you do it.”

  “It’s all about tongue technique and suppressing your gag reflex,” I said, deliberately misunderstanding her.

  “You know what I’m talking about—seducing straight guys.”

  “It’s the beauty of higher education. The kids are away from home and their parents for the first time in their lives. Drunk on freedom they’ll try all kinds of things they otherwise wouldn’t. There’s no way someone as hetero as Hollins would let me blow him back home. Here it’s different. The best part is that they don’t even have to feel guilty about it later. It’s okay to experiment in college. Like Vegas.”

  “What happens in college stays in college?”

  “Exactly!”

  “You’re full of shit.”

  So I was. I really just had a kink for straight guys, but I could bullshit as good as a state legislator running for re-election.

  “Okay, you got me. I’m doing it to spread compassion and tolerance among mankind. Just think about it…Hollins will go back to whatever wholesome-as-apple-pie Bible belt state he’s from, marry a nice girl, and have brood of kids as blond and strapping as he is. And then one day, when one of them goes to him and says, ‘Daddy I’m gay,’ Hollins will remember the best blowjob of his life and will clasp the little fucker to his bosom instead of throwing him out into the cold. All because of me.”

  By the time I was done giving this mini-lecture, we we’d made it through campus and were strolling down a footpath that cut across a nice, middle class neighborhood to our own more budget-conscious one.

  Jo wasn’t taken in by my speech. “You’re even more full of shit than I thought.”

  “True.”

  “You just like the challenge.”

  “That’s true, too.”

  “Hollins didn’t seem like much of a challenge, though. You went upstairs, trapped him, blew him, and that was it.”

  “Now see, that’s where you’ve got it wrong. I’ve been working on him since the start of the semester.”

  “Really?” she asked as we crossed the street and headed toward a row of low-rise apartment buildings.

  I nodded. “We’re in the same English class, and well, Hollins is a knucklehead about literature, but needs the humanities credit for his degree. So I’ve been helping him out after class.”

  “That’s nice of you.” Jo sniggered.

  “I’m a very kind-hearted and patient person. It takes a while for a boy like Hollins to get over his fear of the scary gay guy. I don’t blame him; he was probably raised to believe we were all degenerate ass-rapists.”

  “As opposed to kinky cock-suckers?”

  “It’s a very important distinction, I’ll have you know, Miss Snarky-pants,” I said with my nose in the air and in my best lecturing voice.

  She snorted and went on grilling me. “Is it just any straight guy then?”

  “Fuck, no!”

  There were plenty of them on campus I wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole. Colin Fuckwit Kirkwood, for example. It sucked that Jo was so cuckoo over the ass-clown. Yeah sure, Colin was good looking and charming in a superficial, slimy sort of way, but he had the personality of a turd. Butch Hollins, on the other hand, was a real sweet guy. Not much of a thinker, a little naive, but deep down, he had a good heart. It wasn’t his fault he’d been raised on a steady diet of “family values.” I recalled fondly that moment when he’d pushed me all so lightly down on his cock. Up till then he’d let me corner him, unzip his pants, and stuff his dick into my mouth, but with that little gesture he’d taken an active role.

  All my bullshitting aside, if I managed to widen Hollins’s horizon just a little bit, it was double worth it. I wouldn’t have minded widening other parts of him, too, but that probably wasn’t gonna happen. I was no ass-rapist, and I doubted he’d give it up willingly.

  Too bad.

  A painful jab in my ribs woke me from my daydreaming about Hollins’s ass.

  “Ow, did you sharpen your elbows again?” I groaned.

  She ignored my suffering. “But why straight guys? Why go to all the trouble? You could probably have any gay guy you want.”

  She was exaggerating, of course. Probably not any gay guy. Most, sure. I’d tried not to let it go to my head, but I knew I was good looking. Tall, dark and handsome—yeah, that was me. Well, tallish—on the top end of average height. I got my high cheekbones and eyes from my mom and my dark hair from my dad. All in all, I looked good, without being too outrageous about it.

  I shrugged. “Hell if I know. I guess it’s the chase.”

  “You know, it’s a good thing you’re basically a good guy because you could be a real asshole.”

  “That’s why I have you, Miss Sunshine, to keep me honest,” I said, opening the door to the apartment we shared.

  Some people thought it weird, Jo and I sharing a place, but I didn’t see why. Jo—her full name was Josephine, but she hated it—and I had been friends since we were kids. Our mothers were sisters and had come from fine New England stock. Livia, my mother, had married an affluent man from a respectable family. Clarice, the black sheep of the family, ran away with a penniless environmental activist, causing my mom perpetual embarrassment. To make things worse, Clarice and Dan had Jo out of wedlock. Twenty-something years later they were still together, and still unmarried.

  But blood was blood, and Jo had spent a large chunk of her childhood in our house while her parents were off saving the whales, the Amazonian rainforest, the Marbled Murrelet, and things of that sort. Jo being two years my junior meant I got to choose which games we played. My parents could afford to be magnanimous; they were loaded.

  ***

  We settled on the big, lumpy couch with a tub of caramel popcorn to watch Freaks. It was one of Jo’s favorite films, and she always popped it in when she needed a little cheering up. I could tell she was thinking of that fuckhead again.

  “Do you think I should do the same with Colin? Just corner him in the bathroom and blow him?” she asked.

  Right on the money, I was. I stuffed a handful of popcorn into my face to give myself some thinking time. Eventually, I had to speak. “Uhm, I’m not sure that’s the best idea. I mean, sure, he’d probably let you. Who’d turn down a free blowjob, right? But he’d just think you were the school slut. Nobody dates the school slut.”

  “It doesn’t bother you what people think,” she said stubbornly.

  “But I am the school slut and I don’t plan on dating.” It was time for bullshitting again. “Look, you and Colin F…Kirkwood are not from the same world: he’s a preppy business student and you are the freaky art major chick. He has connections, and you have nose rings. He’s uptown; you’re downtown. It would never work. You’ve seen Romeo and Juliet. Leonardo and Claire both died in the end.”

  “Your analogy doesn’t even make sense.”

  “Does, too!”

  “You could be a little more supportive, you know.”

  Yeah, I could, if I didn’t loath Colin Fuckface Kirkwood so much. It was time to try a little honesty. “The truth is, Jo, I believe you’re too good for him.”

  “Now you’re just trying to make me feel better.”

  “Of course I am, but it’s still true. For starters, if he was worth anything, he’d have swept you off your feet by now, instead of carrying on with all those bimbos.”

  “You’re sweet saying that.”

  “Nuh-uh. It’s common sense. There are plenty of guys who like you. You totally rock the quirky artist chick look. Hey, what about that Wayne guy. Now there’s someone who truly appreciates you. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how he’s following you around like a lost puppy.”

/>   Jo rolled her eyes. “He’s a nerd.”

  “So? Nerds are people, too. And he’s not one of those fat, dweeby nerds who never stop talking.” Indeed, Wayne was skinny and unobtrusive, like a newborn fawn. “I wouldn’t have figured you for prejudiced. I’m shocked and appalled!”

  “Oh c’mon!”

  “He’s kinda cute with those nerd glasses and frizzy hair. I heard he’s very brainy. Smart is sexy, you know. Plus, he has big feet, and you know what that means.”

  “Don’t tell me that old story about foot and dick size is true.”

  “In my experience, nine times out of ten, yes.” I might have exaggerated.

  “Well, so what? He probably wouldn’t know what to do with it.”

  “Nah, you got it all wrong. Nerds are kinky and always horny. Nobody invites them to the cool parties, so they stay in their rooms and watch porn.”

  “I thought they played Dungeons and Dragons.”

  “The two are not mutually exclusive.”

  “Yeah, like you’ve ever been with a nerd!”

  “I’ll have you know, I had my first nerd in high school: Allen Weingart, president of the chess club. He was very enthusiastic. That’s the other thing with nerds…they’re so grateful they’ll do anything you want. I bet Wayne would be up for any kinky thing you can think up.”

  I felt for poor Wayne. What hopes did he have when someone as good looking as me could be spurned by some stuck-up art student? One who wears flannel, for fuck’s sake! Yeah, I was still smarting from it.

  Meanwhile, Jo’s eyes lost their focus for a second. I knew she was considering what I’d just said. The girl had her kinks, too.

  Best hit the iron while it was still hot. “But if you’re not interested in him, I might just show Wayne a good time myself,” I said, like I was really considering it. Maybe I was, too. Wayne was kinda cute.

  “Hey, keep your filthy mitts off my Wayne!” Jo barked at me.

  Was I good, or was I good? I pushed the play button.