Date: Sat, 13 Nov 2021 16:45:35 -0500 From: Moon Store LLC Subject: Back Seat Angel Part 9 Back Seat Angel Part 9 Hi Folks! Here is the ninth installment of my little tale. For those of you who have read parts one through eight, thanks for being patient! 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 8 -- "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." "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. ---- Part 9 -- At first, Buck's kisses were tentative, even chaste, like a child might kiss a favorite friend. Our lips met gently, followed by a hug and gentle nuzzling along my jawline; I let him go at his own pace. He brought his lips up to mine again, this time kissing me a little more urgently, and his hands roamed up from where he had been pressing against my chest to clasp the sides of my head, seemingly seeking to hold me in place so he could kiss me more thoroughly. Still, he kept his lips pursed, and I realized that, until now, despite everything else we had done sexually, a deep and proper French kiss had not been part of it, and perhaps it was time to teach him that pleasure. No domination or submission, no top and bottom, no angel and devil; what was in order was old- fashioned teen-age making-out, a mutual swapping of spit. We had apparently skipped that part of our exploration, and it was time to back up and fill in the gap. Buck, I realized, despite his intense sex drive and fevered pronunciations of holy purpose to our copulations, was a neophyte who had little to no previous experience in proper lovemaking. And, despite my doubts as to my own status as Casanova, at least I had attempted it a couple times before. "Buck," I murmured, "Follow my lead here, and try to do what I do. I think you'll like it." I turned the two of us so that we were laying side-by-side on the sofa, brushed the curls on his head back so that I could hold his head gently, and tilted my face ever so slightly so that I could kiss him without rubbing noses. When our lips met, I opened my mouth and stuck my tongue out, licking lightly against Buck's lips, and, a moment later, he also opened his mouth and did the same. Our tongues met and danced tentatively against each other. Quickly, Buck grasped the back of my head as well, and turned so that he could thrust his tongue more fully into my eager mouth, and moaned as he wrapped his other arm around my shoulder to pull me into him. Yeah, I guess he likes this. We locked lips and entwined ourselves together, tongues dueling to see who could outdo the other with passion, hands roaming through hair, past necks, shoulders, torsos, and bottoms, and up again to mash each other in embrace. I broke the kiss to lick lightly at his downy-furred jaw, to nibble at an earlobe; Buck rubbed the side of his face along the rough stubble of my chin, and bit along my neck. I'm going to end up with an old-school teenage hickey if he keeps at it; then again, who the hell cares. I reached out to pull him back into a lip-lock and he responded immediately, and we kissed hungrily again until we were near out of breath, our bodies writhing against each other in desire. Buck was now twirling his fingers along my aureoles, exploring, pulling, and so I pulled our faces apart and guided his mouth down to where he could lick and suckle one if he chose. His face registered surprise and concern at first, but, after a cautious lap or two with the flat of his tongue, he latched on and French-kissed my nipple, eliciting a guttural growl from me as he worked on first one, then the other. He then pulled off and back up to my face, thrusting his mouth over mine, like he was giving me a taste of my own sweat. Meanwhile my hands dove under his arm, teasing the wispy hairs in his pits, and, when Buck broke the kiss, I ducked down and lapped at his armpit, breathing in the sharp odor emanating from there, groaning in ecstasy. Buck playfully mashed my head into him, raising one elbow above him to give me full axillary access as he used the crook of the other to press me into him, and I remembered that we had already had a brief discussion about my kink for pit stink, and was gratified that he seemed to be enjoying this bit of body-play as well. I could feel the steely hardness of his prong against the bottom of my gut as we squirmed against each other, and I was also at full mast as I pushed my aching hardness along his thigh. For the moment, though, our oral explorations were absolutely the focus of our concentration. Buck sighed and pulled me back up into another tongue-swap, holding me tightly against his wiry muscled teen body, seemingly desperate to hang onto the moment. I responded with the same, mine a bearish hug, and, honestly, I could not recall the last time I had felt such raw need, such hunger for the caresses of a lover, as right now. It felt heavenly and perfect to be entwined in each other's embrace, breathless with abandon, time at a standstill. Oh Buck, my mysterious waif, my wandering stranger, my wayward angel, I would be held in thrall for eternity, your lover, your devotee, your secret prisoner, your orgasmic explorer, your interactive fleshlight, your human spunk-sock, anything, if this night could last forever. But it can't, it won't, and already you express a desire to take me away from this safe haven, this place you describe as sanctified, and haul me before judgement. What do I do? (Do? Jacky-boy, you know exactly what, and who, you want to "do." You want to boink this kid senseless, and it's pitiful that you moan and whine about being judged for something that you refuse to actually follow through on. What is this, a rom-com?) Dammit, brain, not again; shut up! You always spoil any mood. Must you always butt in? Why don't you offer some constructive advice instead of spewing bile? (Hah! If I give you advice, will you stop resisting and follow through? First suggestion, do you realize that you're arguing with yourself inside your own head? Who is butting in on who, anyways? Time at a standstill, indeed. You're wasting both of ours. Stop it!) Buck at this point sensed my distraction, and had stopped kissing me, and looked at me questioningly. This was precisely the worst time for inner dialogue, but I seemed less and less in control of the other side of "me," that split to my personality, and I sensed the uneasiness in him about my internal conflict, displacing the repose of the previous moments. Okay, this sucked. (Whoopsie! I don't know if I got your full attention yet, Jack-O, but I've got his, heh, heh. Since he's aware of our discussion, want me to say hello? Want me to do the talking?) I don't, definitely, but I have nothing to say right now, and so I just stroke Buck's head of curls for a moment, hoping this personal turmoil will pass. Buck, thankfully, also waits, slowly drawing circlets along my chest with his fingers, eyes now locked with mine. (Okay, you want me to be quiet, then? Here's my two cents' worth. I know you're too pansy- ass conflicted to ask this boy to spread cheeks for ya, so do this -- let him fuck you instead. I'll grab the cranial popcorn and sit back and watch the action. You want it, he wants it, I want it. Simple. C'mon, go for it. Go there and we'll all be happy. Right? Good. Back to you, Guy LeDouche, Kenny Blankenship, over and out.) In the mental silence that followed, I found that this obsessive idea, once planted, was harder and harder to shake. My `evil twin' brain, of course, knew the rational side of my head well enough to know that, yes, I indeed wanted Buck to fuck me. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I was tempted by the idea. Buck, for all his youth, had a distinct streak of domination in him; me, a submissive side, even though I was the `bear' and he the `cub.' This could work. It was just a matter of asking him the right way, to put him at ease with taking our lovemaking to the next level. And, it was just a matter of summoning up my courage, preparing myself for the intimacy of being taken and penetrated. But this had to be worded lovingly, in just the right way. I looked deep into Buck's eyes, and took a shaky breath, willing myself to speak. Yes, come on, go for it. "Buck, I want you to fuck me," I blurted out. Shock and dismay registered on his face. Damn. Okay, that was definitely not just the right way. As usual, it was open mouth, insert foot, and I could hear my `brain' cackling with mirth at my inept proposition. I hastily tried to rephrase what I had said. "Buck, that didn't come out the way it sounded, not like I don't want to actually want to, you know, but I hope that you feel, well, this all seemed to be leading up to feeling more for each other, not that I expect you to feel a certain way for me, but yes, feeling each other more, I mean, more feeling, and so if this is going to..." I lapsed into silence. I was not making any sense. Buck seemed at a loss for words momentarily, too, and then, hesitantly, he hoarsely whispered, "F..Fornication, Jack? Is that what you mean? The sin of Sodom? If you let me take the D- Devil's pleasure, what if I become enraptured so I spill my seed in your nether chamber? Jack, you did not say so, but was not your vision that of possession by a demon of this sort?" I could see the trepidation in Buck's eyes. Son-of-a... the crazy-talk again. I had almost forgotten that Buck's understanding of the world, and of his own emotional and sexual motivations, was colored by an outlook vastly different from my own, and that the use of biblical terminology was, to him, definitely not role-play or banter. The Devil, to him, was real. Well, the only way I could see to meet this was head-on. I could almost hear my own `evil twin' brain munching a handful of imaginary popcorn, feet up on a divan, watching this conversation unfold. I'll be damned if I give it the satisfaction of hearing me try to fib and wheedle my way out of this. My words better be honest, this better be good. I sighed deeply, and looked Buck in his eyes. One of my arms was still underneath him in a half- embrace, and so I moved my free arm to stroke his shoulder and down his back, feeling the taut muscles there under smooth, downy skin. Buck was unresistant but I could tell he was tense, and I did my best to make my touch light and comforting. Buck's lower arm was also encircled underneath me, and he continued to press his fingers through the hairs on my chest. I'm sure he could sense my strain too as I drew in a breath in anticipation of speaking. "Buck, yes. If you want to see everything that we done since the moment we set foot in my apartment, everything we have said to each other, every time we touched, as a sin against some sort of wrathful god, as a violation of a set of laws put in place to make us guilty every time we think of or act upon our desires, then yes, this too is fornication. There's no way I can see to draw the line at some particular act, some specific combination of words or deeds, that put us into the category of damnation or beyond forgiveness. Either every kind word, every loving touch, every bit of passion, all the fun we had and pleasure we felt, is right and proper and due us as human beings on planet Earth, or we are already royally hosed, and are facing everlasting torment at the hand of a vengeful supreme being, for who we already are and what we have already done. You can't have it both ways. Yes, I have my doubts about my own motivations, so I am sure you have yours. But have either one of us tried to manipulate the other into getting what we desire, have either one of us deliberately tried to hurt the other? My conscience is clear on that point. There was no `inner demon' that forced me to force you into anything. In fact, I'm terrified of the part of me that is angry, mean, and wants to do that, to punish others to make them feel as bad as it does." (Hey! Call me mean? That's not nice either!) - Shut up, brain, I'm telling it the way I see it. "Why should I believe that any god feels that way towards me, want to tempt me and then punish me for that temptation? I want our connection to each other to extend to it's logical conclusion; I want our connection to be enduring. Buck, I want us to fuck. There it is. I said it. Am I a little scared? Yes. Full-on sex is incredibly intimate. Do I think I'm wrong or evil for wanting to? Do I think some outside malicious devil is putting this idea into my head? No. Furthermore, Buck, do we have to do the deed now that I've suggested it? Absolutely not. If we stop here, right now, and the only thing we do next is brush our teeth and go to sleep, I still plan to get up in the morning, take you home, wherever that is, meet your `Maven,' whoever she is, and tell her exactly what I saw in my dream, plus whatever details of your escape from The Center and our resulting adventures together that you want me to tell. And I'll do it because I need to talk to somebody, I'll do it because I think it will help me; help me to become whole and complete, because right now I'm not, Buck, I'm coming apart. I have to, I know, but I'll do it because I want to as well. I promise. My dream, uh, my vision, Buck, since you want to know? It was about force, about your, your, um, rape, Buck, of me hurting you deliberately in the future because of the hurt done to me by others in my past. There, I've said that. I'm sorry. It was not about consent, or agreement, or mutual desire. It was about me taking something from you without your permission. And I never, ever, want to be that person. And I'm scared. Buck, that I could become that person, someone who hurts others for power or pleasure, not by some external damnation, but by my own failure, failing to heal my inner wounds. I need help, Buck, I need loving. So do you. We all do. Hence the fucking. If I'm going to contemplate the giving, I had better be willing to receive. And, yeah, um, this has definitely turned into a tirade, a soapbox speech, so I'm going to shut up now. I will let you make whatever decision you want. I love you, Buck. There, I said that too." I smiled wanly, trying to put my brave face on, but, when I looked into Buck's eyes, I could see tears forming in the corners of his eyes. I fell back, hurt, drained, and saddened, and squeezed my eyes shut, tears forming in mine as well. I had said way too much, exposed myself too fully. Nobody needs to have someone else's tribulations dumped onto their lap, least of all a teenage boy who is still lost and confused himself. I mean, I kind of suspect he's confused, but I know for a fact that he is lost, literally lost. I brought him here, and he has no physical point of reference to base either going somewhere safer, or returning from where he came. If I scare him into leaving, he's got no place to go. As usual, I had let my mouth prattle on until I had run myself, and everyone else, into a mental and emotional dead end. I felt like throwing myself off a cliff. I squirmed in torment, and, sensing that I was on my living room couch, not some high mournful aerie, realized that throwing myself off the sofa wouldn't be nearly as dramatic or effective as a cliff; besides, the coffee table didn't deserve to be crushed under the weight of my anguish, it had done nothing to warrant such a fate. I mentally scratched that idea off the list. I could still feel Buck's body next to mine, his arms now reaching out to hug me tightly to him, encircling not just my body, but his flexing bicep also catching the back of my head and pressing me down into his shoulder. This not only served to pull us together in a protective wrestler's clinch, but also pushed his armpit up beneath my nose, and again his sharp scent wafted up and made my nostrils instinctively twitch. Even in my turmoil, Buck seemed to arouse an animal instinct in me, whether by design, or inadvertently, I did not dare to question. I surrendered my thoughts of self-annihilation to the mental wastebin, useless as they were, and shrugged myself into Buck's embrace. "Can I hug you back while we either decide what to do next, or until we fall asleep? I could use this hug, Buck; I'm really wound up, as you can probably tell. Sorry for being such a mood-killer." I struggled to hold my tears back; self-pity is such an ugly and worthless emotion anyway. I felt Buck's embrace tighten, and shifting, he also threw his leg over mine, pulling his body fully against me, leaving me all but immobilized. Whether he was doing this from passion or self-protection, I couldn't tell, but it felt calming to me, and so I relaxed into him, allowing him this full-body lock. He held on for at least a full minute before beginning to pull away. This is it; this is where he gets up and leaves. I steel myself for the event. "Jack." I nod numbly. "Jack, open your eyes, please." I do, and I see Buck staring back into my own eyes, tears wet upon his face, but his eyes shining with love. He's still holding me, but not so tight that we can't look at each other. "Jack, you witnessed to me! God spoke through you! It was not, um, soap-box, it was Truth! Jack, witness is not always joy, sometimes it is pain. You spoke from your deepest heart, allowing God's word to come out. I felt it! Yes, I know what rape is, Brother Christian Mentor told me of his trials before he came to us, and I cried when he witnessed to me about it, I felt the pain. And I felt Truth in your statement of love, Jack. You were not saying it because you felt you ought to, in fact, it hurt you to have to say it, and I felt that too! I love you as well, Jack. Even though I do not understand it fully, our love is part of God's plan. So is our pain. God does not put painful limits on love because He wants to punish us, Jack, He does so to protect us. I believe that with all my heart." I listen, dumbfounded. Not all of what Buck is saying makes sense to me, but I can feel his enthusiasm, his conviction in what he believes. And, although I'm not sure, I think I feel a little of what he means. Love and pain; two sides of a mysterious coin turning so that we can never see both obverse and reverse sides simultaneously. Love hurts. Yeah, they write songs about it. Buck, stops, swallows, pauses for another moment, and then continues, more hesitant now. "Jack, you once told me that you fear no Devil. When you said that, I did not believe you. I thought you were being, um, I thought you were bragging. But I now see that you were saying so out of a place of, um, authority, not pride. You saw the Devil but did not give Him the power of fear over you. I-I see that now. Just because we can't say what happens next when we make a decision, does not mean that we should fear making that decision." Buck, honestly, is speaking philosophy way above his age, and way above my head. I don't recall drawing upon some inner wellspring of wisdom when I said that. I recall being horny. Whatever. Maybe Buck is latching on to this `witness' thing of his again, speaking truth with a capital "T" without fully comprehending what he's saying, just processing it as he goes along. I listen raptly; this is leading somewhere. I hope. Either that, or Buck is adopting my unfortunate tendency to talk himself in circles. I hope not. "Jack, I can decide to say that too. I fear not the Devil." Although he makes that statement with force and conviction, I notice that he then glances over my shoulder and around the room, as if he almost expects Satan to now jump out from behind the couch wearing cape and red tights and poke us with a pitchfork. Honestly, given the craziness of the last 24 hours of my life, I wouldn't be surprised if it actually happens. Brain? Hello? This is where you usually step in and cause a minor freak-out. Gonna do it? Gonna hallucinate Satan for one of us? Conjure up a cloud of sulfurous smoke? Silence. I guess my inner gremlin is still munching virtual popcorn and watching the show here. Good. Buck now drops his eyes and gulps before continuing, and I swear I can see him blushing as red as a tomato. Here we go, he's going to pop the question, and he's as nervous as if he were asking me to the prom. The sheer teenage awkwardness of this moment is overwhelmingly cute, and I hope I remember it forever. "Jack, if we f - if we do this, what do we start with?" I can't resist a little inward mental gloat. I lean forward and stage-whisper conspiratorially into his ear. "Lube, Buck, we start with lots of lube." I can see in his eyes that Buck is uncomprehending, that his limited life experience back at the Center doesn't include bottles of KY Jelly laid out on nightstands for communal assignations. Well, no worries, this is definitely a situation where a demonstration will work better than a description. "Buck, give me a minute, and I'll show you exactly how this all works. Trust me. I'm going to the bathroom and freshen up so I'm ready." I give Buck a peck on the forehead, stand up, and pad towards the bathroom, mentally compiling a list of what's needed, determined to make this first experience unforgettable for both of us. As I grab the door handle to slip in, I realize that Buck is right on my heels, eager as a puppy. Okay, this won't work. I place a hand flat on his chest and wait until his forward motion stops. "Uh, Buck, when your lover tells you that they're going to `freshen up,' or `powder their nose,' or `slip into something comfortable,' that means that you are supposed to make yourself momentarily scarce. I won't be long; shoo!" I gently shut the door on Buck; if his face had been any closer to the door, it would have grazed his nose. Obviously, this will have to be quick. I shuck my shorts to the floor, grab a towel and the bottle of Gun Oil, squeeze a bit onto my fingers, and prod my backside until I find my hole, allowing a little slipperiness to coat my butt crack. Pressing slowly, I slide a finger in, then two, wincing slightly. I can feel my sphincter spasm and tighten against the intrusion. Damn, it's been a very long time since I've indulged in any ass-play, and this might need to start carefully. Well, at least there's no `floaters' up there, a good thing since Buck's eagerness is not going to permit time for a thorough douche. And honestly, I'm eager too; I've got a very sexy virgin waiting anxiously for me, keen for this rite of passage into full manhood. Why overthink or over-prepare for this? I wipe my fingers off and step out into the bedroom, bottle of lube and towel in hand. Buck is at the foot of the bed, so nervous he is practically dancing from foot to foot, his hands alternately pawing at, and attempting to cover, his obvious and substantial tumescence. Despite my initial urge to step forward, I stop to admire the breathtaking sight before me, and, seeing my stillness, Buck also pauses mid-jitter and gawks back. I can hardly breathe or move as I take it all in -- the mop of brown curls worthy of Caravaggio atop his head, the prominent straight nose that hints so strongly of exotic ancestry, the light dusting of blond fuzz along his jawline that begs to be touched and stroked, framing a face that has innocent softness yet an incipient handsome angularity. His brown eyes, formerly mild and guileless, now seem to have an anticipatory, impish gleam to them, and his full red lips begin to turn upwards into a slight knowing smirk as he watches me scrutinize him hungrily. My gaze travels downward along his teen frame, seeing broad shoulders and rangy musculature under supple skin, evidence of a youth spent active outdoors; a skater's body, although the tan line along his bicep, the noticeable difference in color between bronzed veiny forearms, and chest covered in the same delectable blond fuzz as his jaw, suggests farm life, not the streets. Hands still cover his crotch, although I can now detect that Buck seems to be slowly kneading his erection with both hands rather than trying to hide it, so my eyes continue their downward journey to his firm, slim legs, the circlet of darker hair around his ankles, and the little Hobbit- tuft of hair atop his oversized, pigeon-toed feet. I am stunned into amazement by the totality of his beauty, but the former visage of beatific innocence no longer completely suits him. Instead, the gossamer robes of virtue I envisioned just a few short hours ago seem to be dropping away in favor of a more earthy, even salacious, aspect. Our wayward angel, it seems, has bitten the apple of knowledge of good and evil, and likes the flavor. My eyes are now drawn back up, as Buck's hands have moved, are now on his hips, arms akimbo, and the light, dusty treasure trail below his navel angles directly down to a prominent pulsing penis that points almost directly back at me. I see atop his bulbous glans a gleaming pearl of precum, ready to drool down the underside along the frenulum, and, when I tear my gaze away from the prize on display and look up, I am met by a piercing stare, his leer proclaiming lecherous thoughts as he cocks his head back in proud exhibitionistic display. My mind's eye now formulates not angel's wings, but the swishing tail and sharp horns of an incubus, sprouting and taking on form and substance on his countenance as we face off. Buck, it seems, has enjoyed my rapt contemplation of his nakedness, and likes the idea of me being smitten with him to the point of incapacity. I finally manage to snap out of my reverie and stumble forward the few feet between us, my own hard-on bobbing in expectation, and drop to my knees in front of Buck, bottle of lube in hand. I drop the towel and snap off the cap of the bottle, and, hands shaking with desire and anticipation, pour a dollop of goo onto his red, swollen cockhead, and then grab hold of the base of his pole to smear it around. Buck gasps and trembles as I grease his member to rigidity. Again, I am in awe of the size of his tool, the small patch of wiry black hairs where it connects to his pelvis giving way to a prominent blue vein running along the top, which clearly provides substantial blood flow to the thick, curved shaft and wide, flared head. I can barely close my fist around his girth, and I could, if I wanted, get all eight fingers along the length. A man's meat, made all the more impressive by narrow, athletic hips. "Oh, Jack, t-that's cold," he stammers. "Easy there, Buck, it won't be cold for long. Haven't you ever used some grease to make stroking it feel better before?" "N-No, Jack. Aaagh! Oooog! Hmmmfff!" Buck's inchoate declarations testify to the powerful, unfamiliar surges coursing through his young body, and his turgid prong is now hard as a crowbar. I slow my ministrations to light strokes lest he blow his load prematurely. I rise carefully, my hand still wrapped around his shaft, and shift myself so I'm sitting on the bed behind him, spinning him around to face me as I do so. I glance upward at his face, and I see that the cockiness of a few moments ago has been replaced by astonishment at the intense sensations I'm provoking by my oily touch. I continue to squeeze firmly, my thumb rolling slowly over his reddened glans, causing tremors to course through his legs. He is very obviously ready; more than ready. I, too, am panting, my heart thudding, the cravings of a thousand lifetimes coming to fruition. I come to a decision. "Buck, I want you on top, facing me, when you enter, so we can see the look in each other's eyes as we do this. I want you to know how good I feel as you penetrate me." Buck's eyes, clouded as they are with desire, manage to convey a bit of doubt. "Show me?" I lay back along the edge of the bed, head near the center, and I coax Buck into grabbing one leg as I lift up, pressing it back towards my shoulder as he leans forward. I grab my other leg behind the knee and pull it back, splitting me open and exposing my ass fully. Buck, for his part, has his feet planted on the floor, leaning over me, and I push his hair back from his eyes with my free hand so we are gazing at each other, our faces close. I maneuver a pillow underneath my rump so that I am turned upwards, giving Buck both the right angle to enter and the ability to control the rhythm of our coupling. This is about his pleasure and education, his rite of passage. I want it to be everything he's dreamt about. Buck tentatively leans frontward, like an edgy rider getting comfortable the first time in the saddle, and makes a few nervous humps against me, pressing his body weight forward, and so I reach beneath us to guide his lubed prick towards my winking rosebud. I know that since this is his first time, he'll need encouragement, so I decide to offer some verbal pointers as we move slowly towards loving consummation. "Okay now, your cock is not a guided missile, you can't expect it to just find the spot by GPS, so just inch it forward until...OOF!" Buck inexpertly prods downward once, his prong sliding alongside my crack, and then, on the second downward jab, manages to find his target and spasmodically impales about two-and-a- half inches of slickened teen cock in me. I can feel my sphincter unsuccessfully trying to clamp closed at the invasion, the lube foiling it's efforts, and involuntary bodily distress signals radiate out from my suddenly unbuttoned ass-ring, causing me to give a grunt of alarm. Buck freezes momentarily at my vocalization, and our eyes briefly lock, but then, as I watch, the light of comprehension fades, his expression screws up into what I can only describe as the most glorious `fuck-face' imaginable, and, hissing, he drives his hips drive forward with another thrust, plunging a further inch of turgid, invading pole into me. I again attempt to look up into Buck's eyes, hoping to silently plead for a moment of respite for my unguarded anus, but I now see only a slack-jawed glaze, and it is apparent that nothing exists in his world right now but sex- crazed nerve endings and primordial brain-stem urges. The lights are on, but nobody's home; I brace myself for the assault. Buck lowers his head and begins determinedly to piston into me, ferocious, insistent, every muscle in his body taut, his outsized feet flailing and hands clawing, searching for any leverage his fledgling body can find. His thick tool relentlessly burrows deeper as each powerful stroke reams me open, his singular goal that of enveloping his dick-beast in wet, hot heat right up to the root, to the base of his balls, to drive his organ all the way to the nexus of the primeval pit. This is unadulterated animal rut; Buck's instinctual reflexes compelling him to push his phallus right through me, skewering me, the savage impulse of domination and possession old as the sex-drive itself. I can do nothing but grit my teeth and hold on, pinned to the bed and split open like a dissected frog. Finally, what seems like the eternal invasion stops and I can feel Buck's meat-weapon buried fully to the hilt, his balls against me, every youthful muscle straining to push it further inward, his legs rigid, hands grasping at my back, but he has reached full bore and depth. His breath tears out of him in ragged gasps and his dick thrums and throbs victoriously in the very core of my guts as the certainty of masculine conquest washes over and through him. "Oh God! Oh my God! My God! Oh God!" Buck cries into my ear, his pleas a chant, a mantra, of frantic pleasure, seemingly directed to the Almighty in urgent supplication that the tethers holding the synapses of his brain to the waves of rapture radiating from the center of his crotch do not unravel and send him spiraling disembodied through the cosmos. My brain, by contrast, struggles to comprehend the merciless onslaught by which I am besieged; my prayers right now are ones for survival. I clasp Buck to me tightly, panting and perspiring, very much from instinctual self-protection rather than passion. As from a deep well, I hear ululations of torment mixed with sobs of anguish, and slowly realize these sounds are coming from within me, timed in counterpoint to Buck's cries of ecstasy. As I become aware in fragments of the helpless quivering of my body, of being ripped asunder and my prostate battered into subjugation, I also become cognizant of the vast sticky load of cum I've spewed between our bellies, and whimper as much in realization as in relief. As we clinch together, rasping huskily, Buck's eyes abruptly fly open in alarm, and he jerks his head back to lock eyes with me, motionless, hyperalert, his face a silent rictus of panic. I can feel his monstrous intruding member swelling impossibly harder, deeper, wider, ready to split me open from the bottom up. Buck holds himself stock-still, like a frightened deer, trying to forestall the imminent tidal wave of climax, but as I watch in fascinated dread, his eyes roll back into his head, and shuddering, he unleashes a torrent of spooge into me, his whole body spasming violently as a volcanic eruption of white lava empties into my bowels. He goes from guttural dominating growls to grunts to groans to whines to squeaks, his declarations of orgasmic pleasure rising by two octaves in the process. Finally, I can feel his prong sputtering up the last remnants of his load, and my bung once more starts twitching and spasming as his cock loses it's steely hardness and colossal girth, my anal sheath no longer stretched beyond capacity and endurance. Buck, glans and shaft now super-sensitive, every movement and jolt agonizing to his nerve endings, withdraws his softened schlong out of my newly distended, sperm-soaked hole with an audible plop, rolls off of me, and collapses, sweaty and spent, on the bed. As my rectal conflagration subsides to smoldering ruins and my fevered brain once again becomes able to process space and time, I realize less than ninety seconds have passed from rude entry to full impalement to apocalyptic end. I also roll over, fatigued, grab the discarded towel, and swab gingerly at my butt, trying to staunch the flow of seed oozing out of me, and clean off. I then allow myself to stretch out luxuriously and let out a soul-satisfying sigh. That was a rage-fuck of epic proportions, unexpected to be sure, but sorely needed, no pun intended. Even the `evil twin' half of my brain, usually harsh and critical of whatever I do, lays stunned and dormant inside me, satiated by the sheer savagery of our coital coupling. Ye Gods! If Buck's debut performance was any indication, this guy is going to turn into one lethal lover! I pause in my self-congratulation to reach over to Buck, to see if he also has returned to a state of intelligible human speech, and am shocked to find him coiled up in a fetal ball, crying softly. I am immediately consumed with guilt, although I don't yet know what I have done. I gently place a hand on his trembling back, rubbing small circles in what I hope is a soothing manner. "Oh, Buck, what's wrong? Why are you crying? What have I done to upset you?" Buck doesn't immediately turn over, but, as I continue to massage his back and shoulders, I could feel some of the tension leave him, and his shaking and snuffling slows, then stops. I scoot over against him, big-spoon style, repeating my gentle strokes, and, slowly, he uncurls a bit so that he can lay back against me. My teenage satyr, it seems, sometimes suffers from post- copulatory regret. Eventually his breathing begins to even out, the tearful hiccups leaving him, and, warily, he turns to face me. "You're not mad at me?" he queries. I draw back ever so slightly, a bit shocked at the question. "Oh Buck, my back seat angel from heaven, my wild lover, why would I be angry at you?" At those words, his face screws up into anguish again, and fresh tears burst from his eyes. Dammit, another open mouth, insert foot event. Now, I'm really flummoxed. I don't know what I've done, or what to do next. Like a dummy, I just lay there and watch him cry; I'm at a loss, and he has me about to cry too, although I have not one inkling why. We lie there for a couple minutes, the thunderstorm of our emotional impasse glowering over us, tears falling like raindrops, until the squall passes. Buck slows his breathing, and I see that he is struggling to compose himself. It is my turn to be wary, and I can tell he is turning the words he wants to say over in his head. He hesitantly draws in a deep breath, expels it, then tries another. "Oh Jack!" he wails, "I scourged you! Why did I do that? Why did I hurt and punish you? You did nothing to deserve it! We were supposed to demonstrate our love for each other, grow together. Instead, I scourged you, chastised you as I held you down. I prayed to God to make it stop, but it didn't, and then I made you cry out in pain as I took the Devil's pleasure inside you! Oh Jack, why did it happen that way? I'm sorry, so sorry." Buck's declaration trails off into more tears. For once, I feel like I have an answer, rather than saying something inept. But I can't just give it to him, I have to get Buck to see it himself. I clasp his chin and turn his face to me, lightly kissing along his beautiful, velvet-furred cheek and chin until he opens his eyes and gazes at me. "Buck, answer me a question or two, before I try to tell you why. First, when it happened, did you enjoy it?" Buck's cheeks color in guilt. "Yes, Jack," he whispers, "I liked it." His voice grew stronger as he went on. "Oh Jack, that is what I don't understand. I saw that you wanted me to enter you, I saw that when we were looking at each other and you watched me display myself. You said before that I was seductive, that I was enticing. Brother Christian Mentor said the same thing, too. I don't know why I do that. I made you wanton and called forth the Devil by showing you my parts. Is that what you mean? Then, when I put my part inside you and it hurt, and you looked at me, a demon spoke to me, and, instead of resisting the demon, resisting the hurt, I obeyed." Buck hung his head in shame. I put a finger under his chin and lifted his head up so we were eye to eye again. "Buck, what did the demon say to you? Be truthful. Remember, I'm not angry at you at all. Let it out, Buck; say it. What were the demon's words to you?" Buck hesitated a second, then looked me dead in the eye, challenging me to react. "Claim him." Yup, that seems about right. "Yes, Buck, you made me wanton and then you claimed me. Again, Buck, did you enjoy it?" He nods mutely. "Say it, Buck. Did you like it?" "Yes, Jack, I liked it. Oh Jack, when I entered you, it was the best feeling in the world. I thought that you felt the same thing. And then I saw that you did not, that you felt pain instead. But, it was as if you wanted the pain, at least that was what the demon seemed to be saying, and so I listened to the demon and scourged you, it said that I should claim you fully and that your cries of pain were not bad, but good, and God did not stop me, the demon was stronger!" "So yes, the demon was stronger. Then what? Did you enjoy the last part too, the part when you lost control and came inside me, claimed me fully?" "Yes, the Devil's Pleasure. I liked that too." "Not the devil's pleasure, Buck, your pleasure. Not him, you. Say it." "Um, yes Jack, I liked it when I, er, came." "And, did you notice when I came too?" I poked his belly gently, where the remnants of my nut still clung, unwiped. "Uh, I didn't, but yeah, I see it. You, you came from scourge? I don't understand." "Buck, I don't understand either. But didn't you say earlier that love and pain were part of the same thing? I didn't expect you to be so, um, dominating, Buck, or so, uh, proficient. I didn't expect to be claimed by a sex-demon. Don't interrupt me yet, I'm on a roll here, I'm witnessing. Look, most people don't describe it in those terms. You apparently have a really high sex-drive, and, when you get hot and fogged, you like being the giver, not the taker. It is called being a top. Being the taker is called being a bottom. Some folks like both, that's called versatile. But we're getting off track here. That is what happened though; when you claimed me you were the top. It wasn't some inner demon taking control of you, and making you scourge me, it was just you, expressing your innermost feelings to me. And I expressed mine to you, letting you have all of me, because that is what I wanted to do. Buck and Jack, loving each other in a very fierce and primal way. Pretty damn, sorry, dang good way of losing your virginity, if you ask me, going at it one hundred percent. Buck, you were perfect, you were magnificent, and I can't wait until it happens again." Buck considers my words, doubt etched on his face. "Jack, don't you say that you have an inner demon, that you fear listening to it and doing what it tells you to do?" I pause. He's got me there. Another case of foot-in-mouth disease, although not nearly so overt as the usual examples. Buck has basically called me out on this; I'm saying one thing and doing another. The old cry of `but this is different' rings a bit hollow, even though I think there's validity to it, since there's a bright line in my head between rough role-play and rape. Damn. Brain, you just got officially called a demon. (Grrr. You're a stinking asshole! Right now, very literally.) Smirk, I love you too, uh, Dee-man. So shut up. Buck is still looking at me, waiting for an answer. "Okay, you're right, I say exactly that. Well, it looks like both of us need to have the very same discussion with your `Maven' about all this. Maybe she can make sense of the crazy stuff in my head. I'm ready for your communal therapist's couch. You, Buck, you can tell her whatever you want. She's your Maven, not mine. I truly mean it, though. You were awesome. Any time, stud, any time. Sloppy seconds, my love, or call it a night?" Buck grins shyly, exactly the reaction I was hoping for after a heavy conversation and heavy action. Then, he stifles a yawn, and I can see that, emotionally, he is spent, even though his teen stamina could probably carry him for another round. How many has it been, five, six? Wow, no wonder. I, too, am bone-tired, reluctant as I am to end what has been one of the most picaresque days of my life. Yeah, we've had a lot of ups and downs today, ha-ha. More than I care to count. It is well past midnight. A shower and sleep probably is best. Wordlessly, I stand up, offer my hand to help him off the bed too, and we stagger together to the shower. I'm not sure if our embrace is from affection, or if it is for mutual support. There, we soap each other up and rinse each other off with a minimum of horseplay; we are just too bushed to react to each other's pokes and prods. When we get toweled off, we stumble back to the bed, crawl naked under the disheveled covers, and collapse. A well-timed mutual sigh brings a couple giggles, but that is it. We are both drifting off to sleep within moments. Tomorrow is another day.