Date: Mon, 21 Jun 2021 22:31:53 -0400 From: Moon Store LLC Subject: Back Seat Angel Part 8 Back Seat Angel Part 8 Hi Folks! Here is the eighth 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 ---- Part 7 - "We do not leave immediately; we have to prepare ourselves. You'll see, Jack. You will be sure. You will have the power of conviction before we leave this place of sanctity." "Conviction? How is that going to happen, Buck?" "Jack, I am going to witness to you. You will hear the words of conviction and know the power of the Almighty." I had been in precisely this position a few hours ago, and dismissed his words as role-play. This time, I was going to listen. ------- Part 8 - I squirmed uncomfortably on the sofa, preparing for Buck's `witness,' and, as I did so, Buck shifted back and forth on top of me, making sure that his weight stayed centered over my crotch and his knees pinned my arms down, effectively immobilizing me. I reflected that I was considerably heavier and therefore stronger than he was, and that, if I liked, I could heave him off of me and free myself. But, given that pinning me seemed to make him horny, and his sizeable cock was now poking out of his shorts and presenting itself proudly between our stomachs, a thin drool of precum dangling and swaying underneath his meatus, I was reluctant to do so. As any voyager knows, a little distress in return for a spectacular view is always a reasonable concession. Buck stared down at me steadily, his mouth interchangeably in a wide grin, a smirk, a sneer, a rictus of glee, a leer, as emotions played across his face, and yet his facial features themselves didn't seem to move. I wondered if I was, in fact, mildly hallucinating the variations in mood, and whether the distortion I saw was due to my own emotional turbulence, or perhaps simple hyperventilation. Either way, I found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on looking back up at him, and was reminded of my prior comparison of his alternately alarming and ravishing countenance to that of an avenging angel. Internally too, I felt conflicted; I had, several minutes ago, all but admitted to Buck that a dark part of me, one that I no longer felt in complete control of, wanted to fuck his ripe teen body unmercifully, willing or not, but this other, less savage part of me wanted to guide and protect him like he was some lost waif. And I still wasn't sure whether Buck was as naïve and idealistic as he appeared. Was he just a teenage refugee from some odd isolationist cooperative, as he presented himself, or was he deliberately lying to me, some hardened street punk that tricked creeps and criminals regularly, waiting for an opportune moment for larceny? Or, given all the fantastic happenings in this encounter so far, could he well be some supernatural apparition who was going to seduce me, suck my soul out of my penis, and then spirit me away into some mystical dungeon? I had absolutely nothing to clarify exactly what I was dealing with here. Reflecting on the last several hours of my life, wherein I was just minding my own business as mild-mannered Uber driver, and then suddenly transported to a scenario where frequent intense sex with the boy of my misguided dreams, comingled with philosophical discussions and our respective existential crises, was suddenly the norm, I was no longer willing to discard any theory. Buck, meanwhile, seemed to be fading into a light trance, and, while that elusive grin still played on his lips, his eyes seemed to glaze over and he didn't seem to be `all there,' like he was either reminiscing about some past euphoric event, or maybe even willing himself into a state of self-hypnosis. That, I ruminated, or he is going to actually go full sci-fi on me, lasers are going to shoot out of his eyeballs, we are going to start sprouting wings and horns, and I am going to get eaten alive by some cute furry demonic horny-monster while I lay helpless here. I mean, I watch the movies that come out in theaters. I know it's always the eyes that change first before the human changes into a monster or the superhero. I pulled my gaze away from Buck's eyes and looked down at his slightly prominent nose and full lips, his jaw, dusted in dark-haired peach-fuzz whiskers, looked past his smooth, hard chest as he inhaled and exhaled deeply, his pale nipples rising and falling in rhythm with his breathing, to his tight belly with its light swirl of golden hairs pointing downward from his navel into the loose shorts bunched around his waist. Looking lower still, the view changed from that of a teen angel to something more earthy and carnal; his large reddened shaft poked out underneath the shorts from a nest of short brown curls, crowned with a bulbous, shiny cockhead that had a pearl of precum atop it, and a cobweb of dick drool that swung a tantalizing millimeter from connecting to my own hairy gut. The outsized pole both rose and fell with Buck's breaths, and thrummed lightly to what I imagined was his heartbeat. It was there that I concentrated my senses, inhaling the sharp sweaty musk emanating from his crotch, and I swear that I could practically hear the blood pumping through the veins that lined the shaft. The sight, heat, and smell of his turgid teenage tool was sending electric surges of desire through my body, down into my own firmly entrapped cock, causing it to throb in its tight confines, and, still pinned in place, I craned forward and stuck my tongue out, hoping that Buck would scoot forward and let me suckle his throbbing member. Buck, however, noticed, and kept his pole an inch or two away from my lips, and, limber furred legs tight against my arms, he hunched back onto my shorts, teasing me with a flex to his rump and mashing my balls just hard enough to elicit a small groan and cause me to close my eyes. "Jack." I nodded dumbly in acknowledgement as he bounced lightly on top of me. "Jack. Look at me. Who am I? Your face expression keeps changing, when that happens, what do you see?" Another bounce, this one just a twitch, to get my attention. I groaned again, but opened my eyes and looked up, and yes, the ever-changing grin on his face was also still there. Both of us, then. Am I maybe having a stroke? I then felt a familiar stirring within my psyche. (Yeah, Jacko, you should have a stroke. You both should quit this play-acting and have a stroke, or even several. You stroke him and he strokes you. Heh heh. Get it? I'm still here -- you told me to shut up, you wanted me shut out. Nope! Now you finally figured it right; I'm not only permanently part of you, but I'm smarter than you, better equipped than you to survive. You kept calling me `brain' like that was some taunt. How ironic!) (Dammit brain, shut up! I'm freaking out and you're cracking stupid jokes. Besides, what else am I calling you? You want me to call you `devil' like Buck here? Are we going to go there? Are we going to freak him out too, and give him an actual possessed psycho to deal with?) (Why not, Jacky-boo? This is just too much fun not to participate in. You know that you want to hear what he wants to say, and, guess what, scaredy butt? I'm going to listen in and participate too. Shut up? I think not! We are going to get little Bucky-O to witness up his cute ass right up to us, just watch. Furry demonic horny-monster, huh? You been having sexual fantasies about Muppets while I haven't been paying attention, hmmm? They do spend a fair amount of their lives with someone's hands up their butt, after all.) I mentally slumped back, defeated. This was not good. "Jack? I will now witness to you, and you must listen. Okay? Jack?" I blinked and tried to focus, but honestly, the hard prick dancing just a few inches away completely drew my attention away from his face and our discussion of `witnessing'. "Buck, are you always so, um, rigid when you witness? This is not what I remember from Sunday School, or even Summer Bible camp. Not that I'm complaining, nor is this a good time to get into any camp stories, but, um, damn, dude. You sure you wouldn't rather..." I fell silent, unsure what to say next. Buck seemed to snap out of his trance and eyed me appraisingly, his grin now a definite smirk. He glanced down at his stiff dick and, with a shrug, poked at it so that it tapped against my stomach. "Jack, did you ever play `prisoner' with your friends when you were younger? You know, `secret prisoner'? Huh?" His smirk was wider now, and he stared at me expectantly. Yes, I did know, and yes, me and my friends did play that very game, although we called it `James Bond spy torture.' And somehow, even then, my friends seemed to know that I enjoyed being the `spy' more so than the good guy `interrogator' James Bond. We were prepubescent little kids, and clueless about how sexually charged our role-play had been. However, many a game had ended up with us panting, out of breath, with our cocklets straining in our shorts. One or two times, the `torture' even extended to rubbing a naked hard-on with a pilfered rabbit-fur pelt, although the gasping and groaning that particular interrogation tactic produced caused us to quit the game hurriedly, amidst embarrassed snickers and shushes, lest the noise cause our parents to investigate. "Yes Buck, I played `prisoner' when I was younger, but what does that have to do with your witness?" "Jack, will you promise to listen? And, when I ask, you answer?" Buck seemed to pull back into his trance-like state, and drew himself up to full kneeling height. "Jack, this is a witnessing of Truth. When you answer rightly, I will know. When you lie, I will know." His eyes shone, and, as he looked down, bore into me. "When you speak truth, we grow closer..." Jack quickly slid up my belly until his precum-coated cockhead brushed against my lips, then teasingly withdrew before I could stick my tongue into his urethra. "When you state Satan's untruth, we grow apart." With that, Jack bounced backwards against my trapped balls, hard this time. I grunted. "Prisoner, Jack. But also Witness." "Fuck, dude, that hurt!" "Sorry Jack, it must be so. You must attain the power of conviction before you become released and we leave this place of sanctity. The witness of truth is not for the faint of heart or the unrighteous. This is the will of the Almighty." (Ooo! Ooo! Sorry that hurts, Jacky, but my big ole hard-on just gotta go up your ass, Jeebus tole me to stick it in ya! Really, Jackarino, are you getting your jollies letting this kid provoke you and play his games, or are you ready to let me show him the game of `Gladiator vs. Christian in the Colosseum?' Rawr! Lions!) (Brain, I'd rather you stuck to the Muppet jokes. Please.) "Jack. Jack! Look at me. Concentrate. Who am I? What do you see? Answer truthfully." I looked. The mesmerizing eyes and beatific smile. The beautiful smooth body. That gorgeous pole of a penis pointing to heaven. "You are Jophiel, angel of beauty and inspiration." What. The. Ever. Living? Now I'm spouting irrationalities out of my mouth without knowing where they came from. I imagined this `witness' would involve some mumbo-jumbo kind of ritual, extreme playacting even, but how the fuck did I pull that name out? Is it even real? By Buck's look back at me, apparently it is. Not just a made-up-on-the-spot name, there must really be an Angel Jophiel, and I pulled that word out of seemingly thin air and tagged Buck with it, and he seemed to expect either it, or something similar. Okay, I'm officially on the express train to crazy town, and, other than the penis from heaven part, I want off. I think. But then, this all stops. So maybe not. Did somebody say gorgeous teen boy with big dick sitting on my lap? Holy catamite, Batman, we trapped a super-villain here! Do heavenly apparitions even get tumescent? Can a guy go insane and still enjoy the process? My head feels like its flying off in thirteen different directions right now. I would swear I'm dreaming again, but I can distinctly remember the train of events leading up to crazy train, so I doubt it. Buck, meanwhile, looks like he was fully in trance now, and didn't answer. Lips curled into a smile, he looked down at me benevolently like a teacher whose student had just given the correct answer. And, also trance-like, I felt myself bashfully grinning up at him, proud of my answer. He scooted forward and planted the tip of his hard cock against my mouth. "Truth. Kiss me, then, if I am Jophiel, and beautiful." I did so, obediently, lapping gently at the clear goo falling from his pride and joy. Fuck, this feels weird, like I'm under a hex, but I wasn't refusing his delicious offering of dick, whether human or angelic, so I rolled my tongue gently around his massive, meaty cockhead, appreciating the feathery feel of his frenulum, the slippery slide of his slime as it coated my lips. I felt his prong throb once, twice, and a dollop of dicksnot dribbled out; not a full-on orgasm-blast, but definitely thicker and more pungent than before, and I gulped greedily, hoping to draw more down my throat. He pushed his tool in, slowly, methodically, until the tip reached the back of my throat, just short of my gag-reflex, and I felt my esophagus constrict, then open, as I swallowed, ready for the invasion. "Okay, enough." He withdrew, his prick practically thrumming but otherwise motionless. Obediently, I stopped as well. It's undeniable now, I'm under some kind of enchantment, a hypnosis, I thought distractedly. I would have, under any normal circumstances, attempted to coerce a full cumload out of a prick that close to spewing. But now, spellbound, I'm not. Well, whatever. I'm cool with it, not complaining. In fact, fuck it all. An angel of the Almighty has come into my house, seduced me, mounted me, and is feeding me manna from out of his engorged dong. Nothing to fret about, right? Buck resumed his full height over my prone form and intoned slowly and deliberately, "Yes, I am Jophiel, the inspirer. I call upon Barachiel, the guardian, I call upon Zadkiel, the merciful, I call upon Jegudiel, the leader." Buck's trance voice seemed to have a hypnotic cadence to it, and, as he slowly intoned the names and I felt their presence infiltrate the air around us, I felt myself sort of slipping sideways, deeper into the incantation. "I call upon Phanuel, the expeller. I call upon Raphael, the physician." "Raphael? Calling Raphael? How about Leonardo, Donatello, and Michelangelo? Why don't we bring all the Ninja Turtles into this? What other comic-book characters you got?" Fuck! Did that just come out of my mouth out loud? That wasn't me. That was...What the...? The air in the room suddenly seemed absolutely stifling hot. Buck snapped out of his trance and bounced backwards, mashing my balls hard. "You!" His eyes flashed. "Yes. Me. What's going on with the superhero role call, Nebuchadnezzar? Are they your Biblical playmates?" My testicles hurt like hell, but more notably, I'm terrified. I am not in control of my own voice anymore. Buck has somehow managed to unlock my evil twin, my `brain,' the Devil, whoever or whatever you want to call it, my doppelganger from my dreams, and now, he is fully conscious, cognizant, and speaking out loud with Buck, rather than arguing with me inside my head. The same violent internal struggle that I felt before is again present, but this is no pepperoni-induced nightmare, this is real-time. I swear to God I'm having a psychotic break. I could see the hurt in Buck's eyes. I knew that he hated his full name, and of course that was the first epithet that my alter-ego threw at him. (Brain -- don't you fucking do it! Don't you torment him! I'll kill us both to stop you!) I tried to yell, maybe even to tell Buck to get up and run before it was too late, but I felt mentally pushed aside as easily as a bully might push aside a smaller child from the sidewalk. The `other' was in control now, I'm helpless, and he might do anything; I could feel the murderous thoughts rolling out of him like a black cloud. Buck was still astride me, legs locked on my arms, his phallus still engorged, but it was now slapping up and down between our bellies as he struggled to keep me from throwing him off my torso and onto the floor as I writhed underneath. Buck yelled at me in a fury, "You! You are Astaroth, the accuser! You are Asmodeus, demon of lust! You are Leviathan, tempter to heresy and envy! You plague those who would live in peace! By what name do you defile yourself?" I felt the brain-other swirling and churning inside my head as I struggled to hold back, and he struggled to shout. He won. The words burst forth. "I am Samael, father of Cain the firstborn! Creator of the snake, and the sins of man!" Another what-the-fuck pronouncement on my part, but at this point I had no way of stopping this verbal assault from happening. Lower now, but my voice still churlish, "You can kiss my ass Bucky boy. I'm going to make you sorry you ever laid eyes on me, you miserable little street rat. You come into my house, call me out, and you act like you're some sort of angel, gonna save me and everybody else with your stupid ritual, but I see through your fake little-hippy-boy tie-dye church service bullshit. You're a two-faced mother-fucker, and you're just gonna try to rip me to shreds, like the others! Well, you won't! I'm going to rip your ass first!" I could feel the rage pouring out of my being in waves. I hated Buck, I hated this place, I hated my shitty pizza-delivery job, I hated my Uber gig, and most importantly, I hated my ex-girlfriend who kicked me out of my own house when I confessed to her that I was gay, and then told my parents the reason, threatening to blackmail them with the information. That was the day it all started, the day I was born. I was going to make them all suffer like I did, fuck them back like they fucked me over. Holy hell, where did all that, especially that long-buried memory, come from? I don't know, but the current struggle between my two halves just became far more pressing. I once again tried to suppress the other-voice, regain control of myself, but failed miserably. "Fuck you! You're nothing but a goddamned whore!" I screamed. Buck reared back and slapped me, hard. My head swam, and I felt for a moment like I was going to black out. I felt my body go limp, and when I collapsed, Buck fell on top of me, breathing raggedly. How long we stayed like that, I don't know, but, when I regained some sort of clarity and consciousness, I was `me' again, and I could feel Buck holding me tightly with his arms and weeping softly. Since he was now leaning forward, my sack was no longer compressed under his butt, and I could feel his legs entwined with my own, no longer pinning my arms by my side. I reached up and began to gently stroke the curls on the back of Buck's head, and caress his bony shoulders. "Buck, I don't know what came over me, but I'm so very, very sorry. I warned you, but that's no excuse. There was no reason for me to go off like that, no reason to say those things, threaten you or to fight you. You really don't need to deal with my bullshit and trauma, and I promise, I'll make sure you are safe, then I will put myself away where I can't harm you or anybody else anymore." Buck said nothing in response, didn't even move. It was like he was waiting for more, but what else could I say? I felt overwhelmed and remorseful, and, while the apology was sincere, I really had no idea what I meant when I said I would `put myself away.' What? Was I going to run? If so, where? I'm already just one measly rent payment away from vagabond status. Leaving town would do no good; I had no place as a destination, so I would just wander forever in my crappy Uber, searching vainly for a fare to nowhere. Was I seriously contemplating suicide here? Unlikely. I doubt if I could blow my brains out, even with `brain' here as a target, and for that matter, what made me think I could successfully do it? I had screwed everything else up in my life, what made me think I wouldn't screw up a shotgun blast to the head? After that failure, I'd have half a head and half a brain, then what? Was I thinking about finding a mental unit, a psych ward, a hospital? I'd have a tough time, given the events leading up to my mental collapse, convincing them I was serious. Sure, Doctor E. Normus Pylah, it all started when this teen hoodlum from a secret commune started playing with his fuckstick and accidentally spewed his babymakers on me; then came the sex, the pizza, the voices and the exorcism. I swear it's the truth, doc! Each scenario seemed more ludicrous than the last, as it played out in my obviously addled head, and I began to chuckle. I was cornered. The only person even remotely plausible as a confessor to my crazy predicament was Buck's `Maven,' some cult leader to a flock of misfits, hiding somewhere in a vegetable farm on the outskirts of this suburban hellscape. Who else would even sit still for the whole insane tale? Welp, better get my sackcloth and ashes on, and prepare myself for a scourge. I wonder if she charges by the hour or by the week when you check in to her cult for whippings and rehab? Maybe I could ask them to put Buck here in charge of the flagellations; at least my cries of agony would fall on sympathetic ears, and my punishment might be interspersed with a surreptitious hand job now and again. Jack's breathing had slowed and evened out, the tears had subsided, and he now stirred, shifting back into a sitting position in my lap, but he was gentle and did not try to pin my arms or nut sack underneath him this time. Pity, actually, I was beginning to enjoy it. He looked down at me and smiled wanly. "Convinced, Jack? Has the Almighty given you wisdom?" Ah, that was the statement Buck was waiting for. "Uh, yeah, Buck, I'm convinced. But I thought `witness' meant you were going to try to talk me into doing this, not provoke me into some sort of primal scream therapy crisis. Holy crap." Buck looked at me blankly, shrugged. "Jack, the words of conviction must come from yourself, not me." "Yes, Buck, I can see that now. As long as I thought I had an alternative to your plan, I wasn't going to go along with it." "I had seen Brother Mentor sit on top of a Brother Christian Fellow in much the same way when they were angered beyond reason, I had to help hold them down. But this is the first time I tried it on my own. You seemed angry, I sat on you." I hadn't started out angry, I thought. But then again, I was argumentative. Hmmm. Maybe I deserved to be restrained. "What about the call and response, Buck? Where did the names of angels and devils come from? How did you get me to call you and myself those crazy titles?" Buck shrugged again. "My words were my own. So were yours, Jack. I don't think I can make you think things or say things. I don't have an answer for that." Okay, fair enough. But the whole hypnosis and trance thing felt pretty damn real to me. "Okay Buck, what about the big hard on, the dick-feeding and the ball mashing? Is that a regular part of holding folks down on the farm too?" Buck blushed. Quite cutely too, I might say. "Er, that was definitely me. I don't know, it felt right, and, um, Jack, it felt good. I wasn't thinking about how hard I was, really, until you started looking right at it, and then, well, I started thinking about it too, and couldn't stop. Was that the role-play you talked about, Jack?" I don't know if Buck is trying to downplay the events of the last hour or so, and be modest, or if it really was some sort of divinely-inspired madness, something neither one of us planned, but got carried away by in the moment. Either way, I definitely think `role-play' cannot precisely describe what we just experienced, and said as much to Buck. Again, he just nodded, leaving me with more practical questions. "Well, Buck, I'll go see this Maven of yours. How do we get there?" "Um, Jack, I do not know. I do not drive, you do. In your car?" "Yeah, Buck, definitely in my car. I meant, which direction do we travel? How far away is it? How long will it take?" "Jack, I don't know. I don't know where we are right now. Well, I know we are in your home, the sanctified place. And, when we deliver, Brother Christian drives the van. I ride in the back with the vegetables. I don't know the directions, but it is not terribly far. An hour, maybe?" "What do you mean you don't know? You tell me we're supposed to go see this Maven of yours, on a farm where you actually live, but you don't know how to get there? Don't you even have a mailing address, or a phone number? Do you know how much territory an hour away in every direction actually is? Jesus, this is crazy, like I originally said." Buck looked down at me, hurt. Damn, I'm being stupid. I paused and took a deep breath. This was not Buck's fault, and blaming him or yelling at him wasn't going to solve things. Of course he didn't know where we are now, this is my house, not his. And if he had no mailing address or phone number handy, then I just need to play Uber-sleuth and figure things out, like many a previous pick-up where the app fouled things up and directed me to a dead end. It might be midnight but I've navigated through the dark before. The only difference is that I'm not looking for a pick-up point, but a destination. And surely Buck will recognize landmarks if I get kind of close. I heaved a sigh. "Buck, I'm sorry I yelled at you, I guess I'm just tired, and worried about finding my way to someplace I've never been before, and meeting someone who isn't like anybody I know. Forgive me?" "Yes, Jack, I do." He grinned at me. "Sorry for hitting you, you were scaring me." My turn to grin. "Thanks, Buck, and, really, I mean it, I deserved it. I'm done fighting. I've done enough yelling at you. I'm sorry for what mean things I said earlier too, and, um, for calling you by your real name. I know you don't like it." "Do you know what they called me at the Center, Jack? They called me Nebby. Like nosy, because I always got into other people's stuff. It's better than Nebuchadnezzar, my full name, but I like Buck much better. Will you tell them that my name is Buck now? When we get to the Center?" "Yes, I will, Buck, I will." We spent a few minutes just holding each other, Buck seemingly satisfied with what had transpired, my promise to seek out a way to Center Farm, and a visit the Maven, whoever she was. Buck had, outwardly, reverted to being a teen boy, content to hold me and wrap his lanky arms and legs around my larger frame. Even his ever-present hard on, it seemed, was content to rest easy for now, although I could still feel his substantial package rubbing against my lower belly when he shifted. A good feeling, definitely. I, also, was at least superficially calm, but I was feeling more than a little bit apprehensive about what was going to happen next. `Promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep'; who said that? Eventually, my unease got the best of me, and so, reluctantly, I sat up so that I could speak with Buck, and look him in his mild brown eyes. I exhaled. Here goes. "Should we get ready to leave, Buck? I made a promise, and I intend to keep it. I'm ready to meet this Maven of yours, and accept whatever scourge we have to undergo. How about you?" "Jack, I'm ready too, but I think we should wait until morning. This has been a big day for me." Shit. No kidding. "Can we go to bed and stay here until morning? It's up to you, since it's your place, but I'd like that if you'll let me." Buck's face looked pleading and slightly forlorn, but I could tell by the slight twinkle in his eye that he was confident I was not going to refuse him. "Sure Buck, whatever you say. But honestly, I'm a bit keyed up and don't know how well I'm going to be able to sleep." Buck looked at me, a coy smile playing on his lips. "Not sleep yet, Jack, just bed. Okay?" His smile broadened into a grin and I returned it. "Well, Buck, I guess I only have to fulfill my promises to you if I survive the night. Promise you won't keep me `prisoner' until I perish?" "Promise. Maybe." We stared into each other's eyes, and once again, I felt like I was falling into a bottomless depth, this time willingly. "Buck, maybe we should re-sanctify this place with another covenant, just to make sure the holy protection lasts the whole night. You think that's a good plan?" "Yes, Jack, I do." We kissed.