Date: Fri, 27 Nov 2020 19:40:08 +0100
From: Daniel Comnenus <daniel.comnenus@gmx.com>
Subject: Sex Cult Confessions (part 2)

SEX CULT CONFESSIONS (2)

By Dolphin Dan


In 2005 I met "Jeremy K.," not his real name, on a dating site. Our first
date ended in some incredible sex, but on the other hand we didn't go all
out and I had the sense that it was preliminary, basically an
audition. Jeremy was a tall, chubby, imposing man, a former Army veteran
who'd lost part of his leg in Iraq. He was devilishly cute and seemed to
exude an almost unnatural charm and charisma. After the date I waited with
baited breath for him to text me so we could see each other again. I'd
already fallen under his spell. I had no idea what I was getting myself
into. He was about to initiate me into a cult where he was the chief deity
and the way to show your devotion was to let him put his dick in you. There
was no hint of this at first, of course.

This was the era of Nokia flip phones, if you remember them, and for some
reason Jeremy's texts were always rendered in all caps. I have no idea
why. To be honest his texts were sometimes bizarre and random, blunt and
explicit not infrequently, and often a little curt and demanding. The
morning after our first night together he texted, YOU WERE GREAT LAST
NIGHT, UR MOUTH SO HOT. U WANT TO SEE ME AGAIN? I texted back yes,
definitely. The next text read, WOULD U GET TESTED FOR ME ASAP? THERE WAS
STUFF I WISH WE COULD HAVE DONE LAST NIGHT BUT I HATE CONDOMS. IF YOU'RE
CLEAN THO, GAME ON!!! This didn't bother me at all. In fact it struck me as
quite responsible. I was sure I didn't have HIV and had been generally safe
but I had no problem getting a test. Jeremy did say, FAX ME THE RESULT OF
THE TEST, and gave me a fax number. That same week I got a test at a
Planned Parenthood, and I did what he wanted, faxing the results page to
the number he provided. The next text he sent read, YOUR ASS IS MINE! I got
a boner as soon as I saw it.

Next thing that happened. A while later he texted, DISCLOSURE: I AM NOT
EXCLUSIVE. I SEE OTHER GUYS & WOMEN SOMETIMES TOO. THIS IS WHY I INSIST
EVERYONE GETS TESTED. While I wasn't super keen on being just one of a
harem of guys (and girls) he fucked, I told him I was okay with this. Then
he invited me to a party at a house in Palos Verdes on Friday night. While
he didn't explain, I got the impression that other members of the Jeremy
K.'s Penis Fan Club would also be there. I turned out to be right.

The night before the party, Thursday night, he sent me a couple more
texts. They were in the middle of the night and I didn't get them until I
woke up and turned my phone on. One, sent at 3:42 AM, said DO YOU BELIEVE
IN GOD? The other, sent at 4:44 AM, was very weird: I ENTERED A PERFECT
STATE OF MEDITATION TONIGHT. WAS ABLE TO LEVITATE OBJECTS. WHAT DO YOU
THINK OF THAT? As to the first one, I replied that I didn't really know, I
wasn't raised religious. I had no idea how to respond to the second text
though so I just ignored it. About midday he sent me a text of an ASCII
penis, just 8====D. I replied with "hehe" or something. I didn't hear from
him until I went to the party.

The party was in a nice house on the Via Anita in P.V., not on the water
but less than half a mile from the beach. I had no idea whose house it
was. Weird trance music was playing when I walked up. There were only about
ten or twelve people there. Most were in their 20s or 30s. I'll take you
through the most important of the guests in the order I met them.

Sonia was about 30, long dark hair, and dressed like a hippie from the
early 70s. She was high on something, very smiley, and loved
everyone. "Your aura is really strong!" she said. "It's coming off you in
waves."

Tommy and Deidre, husband and wife, were about 35. Deidre had some kind of
job in the travel industry but I wasn't quite sure what it was. Tommy owned
a small construction company. They were standing around in the kitchen with
Greg, about my age (27), a good-looking guy who had some kind of IT or tech
job. He wore a Stanford T-shirt. All three of them were standing near
Jeremy, who was holding a glass of red wine--actually they all were except
for Tommy--and talking about something very intense. They all seemed to
hang on every word. What Jeremy was saying made no sense to me. He was
describing something he'd seen or experienced in Iraq, and he kept using
the word "drooie" which was gibberish to me. Like, "The drooie I was
experiencing was hella negative," and "When they shot that guy, you could
just see the drooie draining right out of him." Jeremy was wearing shorts,
his Birkenstock sandals and a T-shirt that had been cut up the sides to
form I guess what you'd call a muscle shirt. Let me just tell you what an
extraordinary feat it is for a man who was nearly 250 pounds and 28.8 BMI,
very little of it muscle, to manage to look sexy in a muscle shirt. But
Jeremy just exuded this sort of magnetic confidence that made him
attractive, whether you were a chubby chaser or not. I couldn't keep my
eyes off him and neither could anyone else.

After he finished his story about "drooie" he noticed me. "Hey, you made
it!" He introduced me to everyone in the room, got me a glass and poured me
some of the wine. (I know very little about wine). He apologized because it
was only the 1997 vintage, not the 1998, as if that was bad. As he handed
me the glass he leaned in close and whispered, "I'm going to come get you
in about 20 minutes and we'll go upstairs. Don't make a big deal of it."
Then he wandered out of the room, leaving me to figure out how to disguise
the boner I'd sprung.

In the living room I met a very strange looking guy. He was mid-20s, tall,
thin, and had part of his head shaved to stubble but with a long
mohawk-like curtain flopping down on the side of his head and a single very
thin dreadlock hanging down in back. He wore glasses and he was slightly
crosseyed. He was wearing a Metallica T-shirt and also carrying a wine
glass. He said his name was Dack. "The first thing everyone thinks of is
Luke Skywalker's tailgunner in The Empire Strikes Back," he said. (I hadn't
thought of that until he said it). But he insisted this really was his
name. I found Dack attractive and he was positively oozing a closeted-gay
vibe so I was sure Jeremy was fucking him.

"Can I ask you a question?" I said to him. "Do you know what 'drooie'
means?"

Dack immediately laughed. "You must be really new!" When he realized I was
serious he said, "It's kind of like karma, but a little different. Don't
worry, he loves to talk about it, so he'll explain."

Two others at the party are worth mentioning. Patricia, a woman in her 40s,
was there. She also had a hippie vibe, like Sonia, but it was more of an
aging hippie type of thing, and she was at least old enough to have caught
the end of the '70s for real. I learned this was Jeremy's sister, the one
he'd moved to L.A. to be close to. She had brought her son to the party, a
boy I guessed was about 16. His name was Shawn. He was thin and blond, long
hair, and had a big nose. He didn't really seem to be into the party,
though he was drinking a beer. He basically sat around texting on his
phone.

It took more like 45 minutes than 20, but Jeremy found me in the living
room. He said casually, "Hey, Dan, come with me for a minute. There's
something I want to show you." He took me by the hand and led me
upstairs. The trance music was still audible from down below. He went up
the stairs and led me into a bedroom with a king-sized bed and tasteful
knickknacks made from coral and driftwood. Literally as soon as we got
inside and closed the door Jeremy reached behind himself with one hand,
pulled his shirt off, and stepped forward and kissed me. With a sweet smile
he said, "I'm really glad you came." He touched my cheek in a very tender
gesture.

We made out for a little bit and it didn't take long for the engines to
start running, if you know what I mean. In fact it was almost like Jeremy
flipped a sort of invisible switch and started emitting pheromones or
something because inside of five minutes I was so turned on that my breath
was short and my body was literally quaking. Jeremy told me that this had
to be a quickie because he had to get back to the party. In one of the
pockets of his cargo shorts there was a small little nylon pouch with a
zipper. He took it out, unzipped it and removed a small bottle of oil which
he set on the bedside table, not drawing much attention to it, but it spoke
volumes about his intentions.

The thing about Jeremy that I learned that night, and inside about 20
minutes, was that lovemaking with him could and often did go from very
gentle, tender and tranquil to roaring, pounding hard-core lust without
much transition between them. We were on the bed kissing and caressing each
other. He was running his hands along my bare back, touching my neck,
gently brushing my arms. My fingers were entranced with the curves of his
body, the curves of his pecs, his rounded belly, the shape of his
shoulders. Our tongues danced and flicked against each other
playfully. Then, without any warning, he was suddenly a grunting beast. He
tore down my shorts and my underwear, flipped me over on the bed and
slapped my butt hard enough to leave a red handprint. (The closet doors in
this room were mirrored so I could see everything that was going on). He
reached for the bottle of oil. "Holy shit, look at your ass. You got such a
perfect ass. I bet it's tight as a drum. I'm gonna enjoy this." He greased
himself up and I could feel oil dripping off the tip of his dick onto my
back. He leaned over me, his long hair hanging down into my face and he bit
my left ear softly. "You ready? You ready for me to take you? You want me
to take you now?" His voice was a harsh whisper.

"God, yes, please."

"Please! Oh, I like that. I should make you beg. I should make you get on
your hands and knees and beg for my cock. But since I'm already here..." An
instant later he slid his pulsing rod into my butt. I felt the warm
roundness of his dickhead pushing sharply past the resistance of my
sphincter and it felt good. He groaned in delight. "Awwww fuck! It is
tight. Oh my God, it's so tight. So goddamn tight, fuck, yes!" He began
pumping. My bowel felt incredibly full, like I had to take the biggest shit
of my life, and I won't kid you, it did hurt; Jeremy's penis wasn't
unusually long but it had a bit more girth than I was used to. But at the
same time it was an almost electric feeling, an incredible excitement that
made me enjoy this like no other episode of bottoming I'd ever done. He
treated it like a game, a very physical game. Jeremy rocked my body
mercilessly. He slapped the backs of my shoulders and my hips. His running
commentary was almost funny. "Whoa! This ass, though...Jesus...okay, I'm
starting to feel it...starting to feel it...oh yeah, it's gonna
happen...gonna happen...you're gonna get it all, I'm gonna fill you
up...get ready, here I come, you gonna take it all, here I come, fuck, yes,
FUCK!"

His orgasm was like a sharp hot wave blasting through me. I sensed every
spasm of his out of control cock in the pit of my stomach like the thud of
a powerful speaker with the bass turned all the way up. He collapsed in
exhaustion on my back and I felt a thin layer of sweat between his chest
and the skin of my lower shoulders. My own penis, hard as stone underneath
me, was almost screaming for release. Slowly he pulled out of me. It felt
good but I also missed the fullness of him inside me. "Turn over," he
commanded. I got onto my back. He squirted some more of the lube oil onto
his hands and then reached for my dick. He masturbated me in a very weird
way, by seizing my throbbing penis between his oil-slick palms and quickly
rubbing it between them like a snake of dough. Wherever he'd learned this
maneuver, it was incredibly effective. In less than ten seconds my entire
body went rigid, I gasped and gritted my teeth and my overstimulated cock
began firing shotgun blasts of cum onto my belly and Jeremy's hands. "Dirty
boy!" he was saying. "C'mon, get it all out, you fucking dirty, dirty boy!"

It was hot, but when it was over we had a big problem: we were in some
stranger's bedroom, on their bed, and we didn't have any towels. Jeremy
made a joke out of it. "Shit, we didn't think this one through, did we?" He
grabbed my underwear and started wiping his hands off with it. "Sorry. No
alternative. Here, clean up. This house belongs to a friend of my
sister's. This is a nice bedspread, wouldn't want to stain it." This was a
bit of a raw deal. Between us we used my boxer briefs to clean up the cum
and oil on both our hands and our dicks, and I had to wipe my ass and then
put my shorts back on, sans underwear, and try to conceal the sticky, oily
briefs--which smelled like shit, cum and baby oil--in my pocket. He never
offered his own underwear, which remained pristine, of course. Before we
left the room he kissed me under my chin. "That was beautiful. I think we
both gained a lot of drooie from that."

I left the party briefly to hide my stained underwear in my car. When I
went back into the house at first I wondered if everybody could tell that
I'd just made it with Jeremy. I went and got another glass of wine and sat
down on a sofa in the living room. When I started to set the wine glass
down on the coffee table I saw my hand was shaking and realized that it was
completely obvious. Also, with a bizarre kind of second sight, I suddenly
knew who among the party guests had also had sex with Jeremy. Sonia,
Deirdre, Greg and Dack all had, and when I glanced over at Shawn I realized
that he had, too. His own nephew, and just a kid! Under normal
circumstances the realization of who my new lover shared his affections
with would have been unsettling, but in this situation it made me feel like
an initiate into a secret club. It was kind of thrilling.

Sonia came to sit down on the couch next to me, carrying her own wine
glass. We got to know each other a little. She said she'd been friends with
Jeremy back in Bellingham (Washington, I presumed) and moved down here with
him when he came to L.A., which struck me as a little strange. But then she
started gushing about him. "Jeremy is an incredible genius, you know? I
mean, he's so spiritual, and so centered. He knows what he wants and isn't
afraid to go after it. He really helped me straighten my shit out and focus
on what's important. I've never known anyone like him in my life. I'm so
glad you met him too! I can see drooie coming out your ears!" She laughed
and clinked her glass against mine.

I got home at past 3:30 in the morning. I tossed my soiled boxer briefs in
the washing machine, showered, put on some clean underwear, fed my cat and
then sat on the couch with my phone. I sent my friend April a series of
text messages. I didn't tell her what happened at the party, except that
I'd spent the evening with Jeremy and that I really, really liked him, but
I wasn't sure he was as serious about me as I was about him. Then I got out
my laptop and did a search for the word "drooie." Apparently there was a
character from the World of Warcraft video game with that name, but nothing
else came up and that obviously wasn't what Jeremy was talking about.

More to come...


Check out some of my other stories, "My Elvish Boyfriend" and "Farm Planet
Chronicles" are probably the most popular:
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My book, "An American Elf in Paris," is out now:
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