Date: Mon, 23 Nov 2020 07:53:09 +0100
From: Daniel Comnenus <daniel.comnenus@gmx.com>
Subject: Sex Cult Confessions (part 1)

SEX CULT CONFESSIONS (1)

By Dolphin Dan

*** [NOTE: This story, while too heavily fictionalized to be called a true
story, is based on true events. Names and identifying details have been
changed, multiple characters combined into composites, events rearranged or
condensed for dramatic events, but the essence of this story is true.] ***

This is a long story about my involvement with a certain person who I'll
call "Jeremy K.," not his real name, and the group of his associates that I
was a part of. While I don't hesitate to call the group a cult, others
probably would. The word "cult" has a lot of negative connotations, and
just using it I realize I'm putting a value judgment on what happened to
me. I should say, though, that while some of it was very fucked up a lot of
what happened was extremely positive. I leave you to decide whether it was
good or bad on the whole.

Before we get to Jeremy K., I have to tell you about something that
happened to me when I was 11. I had an encounter with an older boy who
lived on our street. This was in San Bernardino in the early 90s. Patrick
was 14, but he spent a lot of his time, especially in the summer, playing
with the younger kids in the neighborhood. Even at the time I thought it
was a little odd that he didn't hang out more often with kids his own age,
but he was sort of immature himself. He was constantly playing with GI
Joe's, toy guns and other war-related toys and said he was going to join
the Army as soon as he was old enough. Patrick was also overweight. Not
grossly obese, but when he took his shirt off you could see his hanging
belly and rounded pecs. Long story short, he would befriend a new boy,
about 11 or 12, and for about three weeks they'd be inseparable. Then he'd
invite the kid over to his house to play with a specific toy or watch a
forbidden movie on VHS or something--Patrick conveniently had a bedroom in
the basement with a lot of privacy--and he'd try to fool around with
them. I wouldn't say he was a predator; he pretty much gave up completely
at the slightest sign of resistance. But those that were receptive, he'd
push it as far as he could. I was one of the ones who was receptive.

Patrick was pretty much my first everything: first penis I ever saw other
than mine, first one I ever touched, first one who ever touched me, the
first ejaculation I ever witnessed, first blow job, everything. His dick
was probably average for his age but looked and felt huge to me and his
ball sack also seemed gigantic. We played around in the afternoons for
about three weeks in the summer. The only thing I didn't do was when he
suggested he put his dick inside me, meaning my butthole, just to see how
it felt. I drew the line at that, and Patrick was like, "Okay." The next
week he dropped me like a hot potato and went on to another playmate. I was
too young even to realize that I'd been dumped. Part of me was relieved I
didn't cross that line with him but another part of me always wondered what
it would have been like.

In the scheme of things my foolings-around with Patrick were fairly
minor. Yet looking back on it it's almost astonishing the effect it had on
my life which I didn't even notice until years, decades later. When I
became an adult and could date, I cycled through various types of guys
before realizing that my ideal physical type was a man who was a few years
older and moderately overweight, just like Patrick had been. I was so picky
about this at one point that I memorized how to do BMI (Body Mass Index)
calculations in my head by estimating a man's height and weight, or, better
yet, by asking outright, which I had been known to do on a first date. The
"butter zone" for me was between 27 and 29 BMI which is just under the
classification of obesity. I also liked guys who were in the military, or
better yet had once been in but no longer were. For the record I was never
in the military and, at the time this story starts at least my own BMI was
a shrimpy 19.1. It seems a stretch that the military thing was a hangover
from Patrick's war toy obsession. Maybe that was part of it, but more
likely I had an unconscious attraction to authority. If so, it would
explain much.

Okay, so here's where we start. In 2005, when I was 27 and living in the
L.A. area, an online friend of mine got me into OKCupid, which was kind of
new at that time. Supposedly Cupid's algorithm worked better than other
dating sites. I put up a profile. I said I was looking for men, overweight
preferred, military experience also a plus. The first guy who messaged me
was some bald hideous dude who looked like a Nazi. The second was somebody
with the handle "DawgDaze." I liked that his messages were very short and
direct. The first one said, "Hi. Jeremy. 36. Fat. Ex-Army. 2 dogs
(Frenchies). You're cute. Msg if interested." I clicked on his
profile. There were three photos, two of which were dogs, the
aforementioned French bulldogs which were soul-crushingly adorable. The
other was him, but he was holding his hand out toward the camera and it
obscured most, but not all, of his face. Around the hand I could see what
looked like long hair and a chin coated with five o'clock shadow. I could
see part of one eye which was a beautiful sea-green color. He seemed worth
a try, so I messaged him back. I was eager to see a real picture though I
didn't ask right away.

The entirety of his second message was: "Disclosures. I am bi, not
gay. Sometimes fuck women. Top only with men. My left leg is missing below
the knee, goddamn IED in Iraq. Scare you off? Bye." He didn't scare me off
at all. In fact I was getting more intrigued. So the next message, before I
even asked for a clear picture of his face, I asked him his height and
weight. His reply: "6'6" 249 lbs." I didn't even need my calculator; that's
a BMI of 28.8. My dick liked those numbers because it got hard pretty much
instantly. My next message was asking where we could meet.

We agreed to meet at a hipster music venue to see a local band called
Nighthawk which I had never heard of. This was on a Tuesday night and
Jeremy said he was going anyway, and if I wanted to meet him, fine, and he
gave the impression that if I didn't show he couldn't care less. Under
normal circumstances when meeting a stranger for the first time you would
think he'd send me a picture or at least tell me what he would be wearing,
but in this case it didn't even have to be said. There wouldn't be a lot of
guys there who were 6'6" and had a prosthetic leg. Before the date I was
nervous. I even texted a friend of mine, April, and told her how nervous I
was. She said, don't get your hopes up. There's probably a reason why he
didn't put a clear picture of himself on a dating site. And if he admitted
to being 249 pounds, you can bet he's underestimating it, so assume he's a
lot heavier than that. April was a bit of a cynic.

The venue was pretty small and intimate. Before I even walked in the door I
passed a car in the parking lot in a handicapped space. It was a mid-90s
Honda Civic CRX with Washington license plates and all kinds of stickers
plastered to the back window. One sticker said IMPEACH BUSH. Another read,
IRAQ VET AND MAD AS HELL. There was the requisite COEXIST one with all the
religious symbols, a rainbow flag, one that said HANG UP AND DRIVE, several
little decals depicting dogs, and one that read DRIVING TOO SLOW? CALL
1-800-FUCK-YOU. The car was covered in dust like it hadn't been washed in
years. There was no question this was his car.

Sure enough, when I walked into the venue my eyes landed on Jeremy
instantly. April was wrong. Not only was he not ugly, but he was incredibly
dreamy at least by my standards. He really was 6'6" and towered over
everyone in the room. He was a mountain of a guy with rounded shoulders,
thick limbs and a belly whose bottom curve was just barely visible under
the hem of his T-shirt which advertised the band Widespread Panic. From my
sizing up he'd been completely honest about his weight; he was chubby but
because he was so tall there was a lot of surface area on his body to
distribute that weight, if that makes any sense. His hair was just down to
the top of his shoulders, brown with slightly lighter streaks, a bit
wavy. He had a slight beard and mustache which looked more like "forgot to
shave this week" than any attempt at cultivating facial hair. His eyes were
beautiful. You could just get lost in them. He was wearing baggy
shorts. One leg was a thick hairy calf that tapered down into a Birkenstock
sandal. His toenails were painted dark blue. The other leg was a sleek
gadget made of carbon fiber and aluminum, its pylon painted with red and
orange flames, and the other Birkenstock had also been strapped to the
plastic foot at its end (in a sock). He did not need a cane or crutch to
walk. When you were around Jeremy you honestly forgot he had one leg
(technically one and a half legs), even when he was wearing shorts, except
on occasion when sitting down he'd prop up the metal one on the opposite
chair. He was holding a plastic cup of craft beer and sized me up
immediately. "You Dan?" I nodded. He didn't even shake my hand, but offered
to buy me a beer.

I don't know what it was about him but I found Jeremy absolutely
captivating. He didn't say much, though we did talk a little about the band
and chatted at the bar between sets. He had lived in Washington State,
joined the Army, got wounded in Iraq and then came back but something about
the Northwest "felt wrong" after his return. So he came down to
L.A. ostensibly to be close to his sister and her son. He did some sort of
freelance work involving IT, but wanted to be a writer and was working on
TV scripts on spec. That was really all I learned about him. When the bands
were over Jeremy tossed his empty beer cup into the trash, belched and
said, "Well? You want to come with me tonight, or what?" It was that
easy. My dick sprang to attention in my pants. I said yes. I had never
fucked anyone on a first date before, and staying over on a weekday also
wasn't my style. But I wasn't going to let this guy go.

He told me where he lived and also wrote down the address on a slip of
paper in case we got separated. It was about a 20 minute drive. I drove up
to a completely nondescript stucco-covered apartment building and passed
the CRX parked outside as I went up. Jeremy had arrived a few minutes
earlier and was in the process of feeding his dogs. They were incredibly
cute. The male, Tibby, was a bluish-gray color with chocolate drop
eyes. The girl, Sanja, was a tawny color. Both had perky upturned ears and
adorable wrinkly faces. I pretended to pay attention to them but my heart
was pounding, I was so excited to make it with Jeremy. He had a weird
effect on me. He asked me if I wanted a beer and I said yes.

Jeremy's bedroom was filled with books, and the walls were lined with
posters, most showing mythological figures or ancient artifacts. For
example, one poster was from an exhibition at an art museum and showed an
Egyptian mummy case. As soon as we got into the bedroom he stripped off his
T-shirt and said something about hating to wear shirts. Though he was
chubby and his belly was thick, the sight of him got me going something
fierce. There was a little bit of hair in the center of his chest but the
rest was smooth. He had an odd circular tattoo on the top of his left arm,
an ouroborous (a snake eating its tail).

He sat down on his bed, prosthetic leg outstretched, and proceeded to take
it off which was an interesting process. He said something like, "Let's get
more comfortable," and started to unzip his shorts. I took off my shoes, my
shirt and my shorts and joined him on the bed. We began making out. His
kisses seemed to transmit a kind of excited energy that was almost electric
in feeling. Soon we were laying on the bed, him on top of me, and he was
gently caressing my ass and my hip through my underwear. Then he put his
hand inside my boxer briefs. When he touched my penis he found it burning
hot, throbbing hard and leaking precum copiously. "Just like I like them,"
he said. "Hot, hard and wet." He squeezed the tip of my dick and got a
large bulbous drop of my precum on his thumb. Then when we took a pause in
kissing he suddenly thrust his wet thumb into my mouth. I was surprised but
I sucked up my own salty fluid hungrily. This seemed to turn him on. "Oh,
you like the taste of your own stuff, huh? That's hot." He reached into his
own underwear, which were black Calvin Klein boxer briefs. He collected
some of his own precum onto his thumb. He stuck his thumb between my lips
and met my tongue. Not only that, but he smeared his precum on my gums the
way people do with grains of cocaine. Then he went back for more and put a
drop of his precum on each of my nipples. This literally made me shudder
with desire. He was seriously driving me crazy.

Our play grew increasingly heated and almost combative. We kissed a lot but
also rolled around a bit on the bed. At one point he hooked his thumbs
under the waistband of my underwear, tore it down and threw it across the
room. My rigid cock slapped back against my belly. He tweaked it, almost
slapping it from side to side. He pinched my nipples, slapped my butt,
grabbed my balls and tugged on them pretty forcefully. He pulled off his
own underwear but instead of throwing it in the corner he turned it inside
out, wadded it up in his right hand and thrust it against my nose and mouth
so I was forced to breathe the deep musky aroma of his genitals. I was
laying down on the bed, largely underneath him, with Jeremy straddling my
thighs. He reached over, grabbed the back of my head and tipped it upward,
and with his other hand he smothered my face with his underwear. The groin
area was slightly damp from ball sweat and there were also wet spots from
precum. "Oh, you like the smell of me? Huh? You like that? You can't get
enough. Damn, you are fucking dirty. Fucking dirty little boy." I was
already completely under Jeremy's spell. There was nothing I wanted more in
the world than for him to flip me over, spread my legs and plow me like an
Iowa cornfield. Everything he'd done had made me virtually dizzy with
intense lust.

As he continued to force me to get high on his groin fumes he said, "You
want me to fuck you, don't you? You really want my cock buried deep in your
ass right now." I managed an mmm-hmm sound. "I really, really want to, but
not on a first date. Instead we're going to do something, a Latin term. Do
you know what 'irruambo te' means? Hm? Do you?" He let up with the
underwear and I said no. "Well, they say it's the Latin term for oral sex,
but it's a little different than what we think of. Basically it means 'I
will mouthfuck you.' Ancient Roman men had a lot of gay and bisexual
relationships. One of the things an older man would do to a younger one was
to mouthfuck him. So, irruambo te!"

He pulled the underwear away from his face and threw it in the corner along
with mine. Then he told me, in very precise instructions, to lay there,
arms and legs spread, my head tipped back and my mouth as open as wide as
possible. He gave me a pillow to put under my neck to help. Then Jeremy
quickly crawled on top of me. Holding himself up on his right knee and his
left stump--which was kind of a nifty trick--he put his hand around his
meaty balls and shook his cock right in my face. He was about seven and a
half inches long but also quite thick. His penis was beautifully straight
and perfect. He reared back a moment, then leaned forward and plunged that
spear into my face. He put his hands on either side of me and began pumping
his dick in and out of my mouth. I was, literally, being mouthfucked. I
concentrated on giving him as much resistance with my lips as possible, but
unlike most blow jobs, I was definitely the passive partner on this one.

Jeremy came to climax quickly and powerfully. Soon he was panting hard,
huffing and puffing like a marathon runner. A deep animal growl started to
escape his lips. It rose in pitch and volume. Finally he hit overdrive,
just slamming his hips against my face. His chest was covered in sweat. His
cock felt incredibly hard and hot, like a bar of red-hot steel passing
between my lips. He let out a loud grunt as his dickhead burst open and
began shooting hot salty ropes of sperm down my hungry throat. It was
almost overwhelming and the tip of his penis was pressed so far at the back
of my throat that I gagged on it but yet the thrill was incredible. When he
finally pulled out of me and I swallowed the rest of his cum I got a head
rush and it really did feel like I was high, except I was very tense
because I desperately wanted to cum and hadn't yet.

Jeremy lay half across me, one of his thick arms on my hip, and he put his
head down into my groin. My own penis was aching for release. It pulsed,
hard and red, and a thin filament of precum oozed down the side of my
cock. Jeremy said, "Watch this." He stuck out his tongue and flicked it,
like a snake's tongue, barely touching the bottom of where my shaft met the
head of my dick. This plus a puff of warm air from his mouth was all it
took. My cock seized up, became hard as cement and then expelled blast
after blast of hot sticky cum all over my abdomen and Jeremy's arm. The
orgasm was so intense that I groaned loudly and almost blacked out. He
licked a drop of cum from the tip of my dick but that was it.

"So, I guess we're seeing each other again?" he said, and we both
laughed. I did not know it yet, but this was just the first of several
initiation rituals into the mysterious circle that surrounded Jeremy
K. More to come in the next chapter...


Check out some of my other stories, "My Elvish Boyfriend" and "Farm Planet
Chronicles" are probably the most popular:
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/authors.html#dolphindan

My book, "An American Elf in Paris," is out now:
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08BNVGZYQ

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