Date: Wed, 15 Jul 2020 22:37:39 -0400 From: Moon Store LLC Subject: Back Seat Angel, part 4 Hi Folks! Here is the fourth installment of my little tale. It is complete fiction, and if you shouldn't be reading this sort of stuff, don't. However, please donate to Nifty for allowing us to share with each other. Help make the world a little more colorful, and keep the forces of drudgery and conformity at bay. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html Moonstore ----- "More, Jack. I need more. Now." The last words out of my mouth before our coupling had been, "I fear no Devil." I may regret saying that. Part 4: Buck's brown eyes bore into me, and, as I lay back on the sofa, he swung one lightly-furred leg over me, and clambered onto my lap, both hands now pressed down on my chest. He sat across my crotch, mashing my cum-soaked underwear into my groin. He's got both my arms pinned against my sides, not trapped, but I can't pull my arms free without a good yank on them, something I'm not ready to do just yet. I mean, I've got a hot teenage boy straddling me, and I got to confess I like this turn of events so far. I admit, though, it is a little confining. I squirm a bit, as much to readjust my cramped prong, as to get ready for whatever he might say or do next. This was certainly not the reaction I expected out of him after blowing his load. Sure, as a young guy, he doesn't need a whole lot of time to recharge, if any. But an immediate request, no, a demand, for more, is a little disconcerting. I'm not sure how to react to his sudden assertiveness. He took a deep breath, then drew himself up, staring directly down into my face. "You defile yourself by swallowing the Devil's seed." "What the..?" Okay, not exactly pillow talk here. "The taint of the unholy one is upon you." I don't know about that. What actually appears to be `upon me' is the taint of a horned-up teenage boy. I'm pretty sure about that, in fact. I can feel him grinding down slowly as he speaks. "There must be an act of contrition to atone for your transgression." Buck is moving his hips back and forth very uncomfortably across my lap, trapping my nuts in between my pants and his butt. His eyes are wide, wild. His brow, visible below his mop of brown curls poking out from the hood, is furrowed in concentration, almost like he is getting ready for an argument, or maybe even fisticuffs. In fact, I can see his nostrils flare, that classic `fuck or fight' reaction caused by a surge in adrenaline. "You have brought forth the sin of Onan from within me." He is actually hella sexy right now, despite the irrational religious talk, or maybe even because of it. I've never had anyone so cute bring down God's curses on me before. "Evil must be cast out." Hair hanging over his forehead, dark, thick eyebrows over wide-set brown eyes, clear, smooth skin over high cheekbones, full lips curled into a sneer. I can see that he has the faintest beginnings of a moustache and beard starting to sprout, not yet with any stubble or whiskers or stray hairs to mar the boyish effect, but a downy fuzz that covers his lip and cuts across the underside of his chin; I want to nuzzle him badly, but he has me effectively pinned. Besides, he doesn't seem to be in a nuzzling mood right now. He looks, in fact, like a young bull about to charge at a matador's cape. "I can feel the temptation of the Devil, rising in my loins." His breathing has become harsh and labored. His still-hard cock is now rubbing back and forth along the bottom of my shirt, the protrusion of my belly giving him a spot to keep the friction going, yet tantalizingly just short of rubbing against my bare skin. It is just out of my reach, unless I make a move. His glans is crimson and flaring, a thin drool of precum starting to dribble out, and I can feel the heat from his tool as it pushes against me. He glares at me. I swear, the phrase `seeing-red' seems almost literal here. It's like I can see the fury rising up in the backs of his retinas. "To forestall it, I invoke the right to retribution." I don't know if he plans to smite me, but I'm definitely smitten. I like what I see here, and I suspect, that if I let him, he'll blow another load, this one right across my face. God, he looks just like a hot sex-demon right now, a firecracker ready to explode. My lips are once again dry, and I wet them with my tongue. Man, it's been a long time since I've been on the receiving end of a good rage-fuck. And, by such a young hottie, never. I stifle a moan. But `retribution' doesn't sound good. I hope he's not planning anything dangerous or stupid. I mean, the train here has already passed Crazy Town without even stopping at the station, but if we are talking about violence, or self-harm, I think I better start thinking with the big head instead of the little one. (Uh, Jacky-boy- shut up, brain, don't even start.) "The one so cursed by Onan, by the hands of another, may punish the transgressor, unless atonement is completed in full." His hands have gone from pushing against my chest, to clasping my shoulder blades. I have no idea where this train is going anymore. And I'm not all too sure going along for the rest of the ride is the best idea. The next stop for his hands could be my neck. And he's got a strong grip. This devil-talk has gone from being mildly irritating, to something akin to foreplay, in a very what-the-fuck kind of way, to being a little concerning, maybe a lot concerning. I've seen cases of post-coital regret before, even had it myself, but this is extreme. I think I need to divert this conversation into healthier channels. "You must choose to deny Satan yourself, or his spirit shall by force be cast out." He bounced once again against my lap, eliciting a groan, as much from the weight atop me, as from desire. This is total fantasy territory for me. I've got a teen god on top of me, one who has already explicitly stated that his loins are bedeviled. Oh, I would love to be taken and ravaged by this young satyr, and follow him to the woods of Dionysus. I am hard again now too, despite the constricted space. A bit of a record in rebound time for this old grizzly bear. But for this to go further, we need to switch gears. Our god-visions seem to be at odds with one another. But it's really difficult to think straight right now. "I shall destroy the wickedness within, unless you repent. What say you?" I sucked in a lungful of much-needed air, blew it out. I counted to five to get my libido in check. "What the hell, Buck?" "You appeal to the forces of Hell for protection from the reckoning of the Almighty?" "Um, uh, no. Look, what's the answer I can give, that gets you to take off that hoodie, and gets us from here to the bedroom, and a bit more relaxed?" He looks a little nonplussed at that one. Sorry, but I don't have the slightest idea what the correct call and response is for this sort of demon casting ritual in his community back home, if in fact they have situations like this frequently. I doubt it. And, while I'm definitely enjoying watching his justice-boner slide back and forth against my shirt-tail, I also think reigning in the hellfire and damnation gobbledygook might be wise, rather than trying to respond in kind. "Buck, listen. I'm willing to go along with whatever role play you would like, but I very much want to see you without that huge sweatshirt covering your body, and you are mashing my balls inside my pants here. What do you say we get a bit more comfortable?" His eyes falter a bit, and, although still mad, he appears to be somewhat thrown off-stride. "The forces of the Lord will come upon us and will render, uh, will render, um, um, wait. What do you mean by uh, role play, Jack?" Now it is my turn to be nonplussed. That was a very quick turnaround to the dialogue. I think he was having a bit of a freak-out, expressing it in familiar terms for him, rather than modern psycho-babble. It's not every day, I suppose, that you run away from home, throw yourself on the mercy of the first passing stranger you meet, and then bust a huge nut on them in thanks. It must be weird. (Not that I'm complaining, just sayin' -- okay, brain, keep it real.) Now, he is coming back down from his momentary bad trip. Hopefully. I mean, I guess this is good. He is asking questions instead of making bizarre pronouncements about my impending doom, just for giving him a much needed and desired blowjob. I pause, considering what I want to say, meanwhile keeping one eye on that enraged tool of his, the other, on his fuming face. "Buck, if you want to play the part of the avenging angel, and me the part of the penitent sinner, I'm all for it, if it gets our rocks off. But please tell me that you understand that this is role play. I am not planning on holy forces showing up to do us up, or in. It's pretend. Neither one of us is commanded to do stuff to the other. And, I don't want either of us to inflict unintentional pain, or get hurt, because we think that's what God or the Devil wants. That's not cool. So, go ahead, you were saying the forces of the Lord will something something. What do you want me to say back?" "You must, uh, you must repent - Jack, you do not believe I speak truth?" His expression has gone from enraptured to crestfallen in ten seconds flat. I sighed. This conversation is turning into a boner-killer. The evidence is literally right under my nose. But I'm adamant that we are not going to wholesale go down this path of talk about religious vengeance as if this is reality. I can't lie to this kid in order to get him naked. I freed an arm from my side and gently placed it on his chest, balancing him on top of me, so we could speak. "Buck, I think you are telling the truth as you see it. But I think you know that I don't see the world in those terms. I doubt that Jesus is going to swoop down to join us in my apartment and hit us with lightning bolts, just because we are busting a nut. We are two human beings, doing what humans have done with each other since before the dawn of history. God hasn't seen fit to put a stop to it yet, and I don't think he's going to start now." I pulled my other arm free, and gently pushed the hood of his sweat shirt back, and stroked the mop of dark curls on his brow, pushing the hair out from in front of his eyes. His brown eyes, so endearing, had a distinct sad-puppy-dog look to them right now. "Buck, I think you're beautiful, and sexy, and I would like nothing more than for you to be willing to take all your clothes off, so that I can see all of that seductive body of yours. And I would like to show you mine, as well, and I hope you think I'm sexy-looking too. Also, I very much want to continue to make each other feel good. I'll do whatever, show you however; the pleasure we just had, I definitely want more. You said you wanted more, too. I'm down with that, I promise. But what I won't do is mislead you into thinking that I believe something I don't, just to get you to do what I want. That's called manipulation, and I won't do that. I ask that you not try to manipulate me, either. Good people don't do that to each other. What we decide to act out between us, whatever fantasy we play in order to make getting hot and horny more fun, is just that, fantasy. It's not truth with a capital T. We are using our imagination to make being together with each other enjoyable. Does that make sense to you?" I noticed that he had stopped humping against my belly as I spoke. Dang. Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut, but what's said is said. Honestly, if I had let him go on, doing whatever he had anticipated doing, with him believing that some sort of divine vengeance was going to befall us if we crossed over a line, or failed to, well, that would have made me feel like a complete heel. I've got morals, I swear. I just don't shout them from the rooftop like some overly-virtuous folks I know. Buck cocked his head to one side, and the puppy dog look intensified. The urge to scratch him behind an ear to see if he wagged his tail was strong. I decided to give in to the urge, and gave the hair behind his ear a slight pull with my fingernail. The little scritch I gave him apparently made him feel good, because he leaned into my hand as I stroked behind his ear, and he closed his eyes for a moment, murmuring softly. No tail-wagging, though. We stayed like that for a minute, me gently scratching his hair with my right hand, he with his eyes shut, his hands now pressed down again on my chest, rubbing against my pecs. I wanted to pull him down and kiss him so badly, but he needed to process a bit, think through what I stated. I kind of had drawn a line in the sand, I know. That didn't keep my other hand from straying down to his knee, however, and I loved the feel of his downy fur growing there as I held my hand still, holding his leg against my torso, enjoying the moment. It just felt so good to me to be holding this teenage waif, a gentle cuddle, making each other feel safe and wanted, breathing softly, waiting. If our time together went no further than this, and this was the extent of our togetherness, I was okay with that right now. The wanting was enough, possessing could wait. The anticipation of more was there, though. I could feel it. If Buck's murmuring was a prayer, maybe I should say one myself. (Please, Buck, kiss me. - holy crap, brain, a cogent thought!) He stirred, and I was reminded that he was still sitting on my balls, eliciting a grunt. His eyes opened, and he peered at me. "Jack, tell me about this role play." (Yeah buddy! Show him the role you want him to play! Show him the ropes! Make him say daddy! Hell yeah, let's do it! -- Shut up, brain, I liked it better when you were considerate.) "Buck, first of all, yes, I'll tell you, or even show you, whatever you like. But don't do this because you feel like you have to. I want us to be friends, first and foremost. Anything we do is because we want to make each other happy, and feel good being with each other. If feeling good involves a little pretend, in addition to the happy part, that's fine. That's role play. I liked sucking on your dick and making you cum. It's not `the sin of Onan' or whatever you called it. It's sexy times, period. I did it because I wanted to, and, honestly, I liked it when you grabbed me and held me down at the end there, even though I choked a little, because it showed me that you liked it too, a lot. I liked having you dominating me a bit, pushing your big dick into my mouth because it feels so good you can't control yourself; that is part of my fantasy. Feeling a teenage boy get the feelings of a man for the first time is a huge thrill for me. It's called being submissive. By the way, Buck, your dick is pretty big for a guy your age, in case you didn't know. You should be proud of what you got." He grinned. "Some guys like the opposite, they like to be the ones in control, and the boy is the compliant one. I like that, too, sometimes. On top of that, people play pretend, or even dress up, to make the feelings of domination or submission stronger. What if, for example, you weren't just Buck, putting your dick in Jack's mouth, but you were, um, a knight, making a squire do his work for you?" Blank look. Okay, another example. "What if you were the quarterback of the high school team, and I was the coach? Or I was a police officer and you a suspect that needed to be asked questions?" Realization in his eyes. "Yes, Jack, what if I pretend I am a student in class, you are a teacher, and you give me lessons? That is role play?" "Bingo. Of course, the lesson can't be learned with your clothes on, because I'm teaching you anatomy, right?" A smirk. "Or a daddy, spanking a son for being a bad boy." (About time you went there! - See, brain, I'm listening.) A snicker. "Jack, could the boy beat the daddy at a game, and win a prize?" "Oh, hell ye -- sorry, absolutely yes. Or, for that matter, take it back to where we started, Buck. You are the king of Babylon; you are going to take me captive and destroy my temple. See, I know my history! I know what your name means, I just can't say it. Only it's not my `temple' that you end up destroying, because I'm captive in your inner palace. It's your supreme being against mine, and big clouds of thunder and lightning bolts are flying around. And you come at me with your big sword. You've got a big sword, haven't you?" Laughter. The eyes are gleeful again, this time with joy behind them, not insanity. "Okay Jack, I think I know a role play now. I will smite you with my big sword, and you will be undone! Know that my power is great!" "Yeah, Buck, go for it," I say softly, "Show me what you can do with your sword. I have already seen it's destruction on the inside of my chariot, you know." A giggle, and he leans forward to look me in the eyes, an inch from my face. (Hmmm, do I get my kiss now? -- yes, brain, hell yes.) He smiles and says softly to me, "I, King Nebuchadnezzar, claim this place as my palace! It shall be unholy no longer." I think it's time I took a risk, here. It feels right. "And I claim this as the sign of our covenant." I held his head in my hand, leaned up, and planted a gentle kiss on his lips. He drew back a bit in surprise, this was not a pretend at all. I held on, though, my hand behind his ear still, guiding his face to mine, kissing him again; and this time, he kissed me back. I could feel his hands moving slowly back and forth on my chest, and I gave his leg a squeeze and a light rub up towards his thigh, the silky hairs under my fingers, the muscle underneath slowly unwinding, the tightness and tension in our bodies beginning to dissipate. We kissed gently, lips moving against one another, small moans of pleasure escaping from both of us. I broke the kiss to look into his limpid eyes, and traced the tip of his ear with my finger, then his jaw, feeling the shape, reveling in the touch of skin under my hand. "Ready to lose that hoodie now, Buck? It really doesn't suit as a robe for a king."