Date: Fri, 11 Dec 2020 18:03:32 +0100
From: Daniel Comnenus <daniel.comnenus@gmx.com>
Subject: Sex Cult Confessions (part 6)

SEX CULT CONFESSIONS (6)

By Dolphin Dan


I've spent a lot of time on the beginning of my relationship with "Jeremy
K." In this chapter I'm going to speed up by a lot. Things did change over
time in the strange little solar system orbiting Planet Jeremy. I had not
yet hit bottom, far from it.

For about eight months after the infamous Sespe camping trip things were
very tranquil. I considered myself Jeremy's boyfriend, though he never
called me that and there was no understanding, spoken or otherwise, that we
were exclusive. I was totally in love with him. Every week or ten days or
so we would have some sort of sex. My favorite by far was anal, and I was
always, and I do mean always, in the bottom position. That's a bit
different with most guys I've been with; I'm pretty versatile. But with
Jeremy you did it his way all the time. He also liked oral sex a fair
amount of the time. This was good for me, but not as much fun as anal. Once
we went to see a movie and he made me blow him in the front seat of his car
at the theater, with dozens of people walking by in the parking lot around
us. Another time he got a room for us at a hotel in downtown L.A. which
must have been pretty expensive, and there was a bottle of champagne. We
stayed for two nights. Jeremy fucked me in the shower, in bed at night more
than once, and even on the floor of the hotel suite. Usually he would get
me off by masturbating me. This was always after he'd already gotten off,
and I was usually so excited that it didn't take long. Sometimes he'd
plunge his middle finger into my ass which would cause me to cum
instantly. He always made me eat my own cum. He often called me "dirty boy"
and "cum eater." Occasionally he said he loved me.

Sometimes there were parties or other gatherings involving the other
friends, the ones I'd met at the Palos Verdes party and others as well. In
addition to Jeremy and eventually me, the core and most stable group
consisted of Sonia, Deidre, Dack and Greg, though Shawn, the nephew, often
accompanied us though he was never really a part of the group. One night we
all went out to Olive Garden. There were some new faces there that night,
two college girls who didn't end up staying with the group very
long. Jeremy dominated the dinner conversation, talking about drooie and
the balances of the universe. Later, on a weekend, Jeremy took us to the
Huntington Gardens; that trip included me, Sonia, Dack and another woman
Jeremy occasionally saw, Rachel. We were a strange little family, bound
together by Jeremy's philosophy. All of us hung on his every word. I no
longer saw my own friends. I stopped talking to April altogether.

I found it somewhat hard to develop friendships within the group. The only
person I really bonded with was Dack. He called me one day and wanted to
know if I wanted to come over to his place and get high. I wasn't that into
pot, but I said, sure. We ended up killing the whole day getting stoned and
watching horror movies. Dack was a source of gossip about other members of
the group. He told me that the reason we didn't see Tommy, Deidre's
husband, around anymore was because he told Jeremy to stop fucking his
wife. She wouldn't, and now she and Tommy were separated. Jeremy wanted her
to divorce him but there was some financial reason why she was
reluctant. Dack also told me, when Sonia's appearance began to change and
she started wearing baggy clothes, that she was pregnant--again. It was the
"again" that surprised me. She had become pregnant by Jeremy before but
something happened that nobody knew about. Dack thought she had a late-term
miscarriage or possibly even an abortion but everyone in the group was too
scared to speak of it or even acknowledge that she'd been pregnant. Jeremy
was apparently so devastated he went on a bender and Tommy had to bail him
out of jail in O.C. (Orange County). No one spoke of that incident either.

On another occasion Dack and I went to a joint with epic hamburgers and
craft beer. In the midst of casual lunch conversation he mentioned that I
should beware of Greg, who hated me. I told him I had no idea about
this. Greg had always been nice to me. "Fuck man, he'll stick a knife in
your ribs if you don't watch him. He's looking for ways to get Jeremy mad
at you."

"Why? What did I ever do to Greg?"

Dack licked barbecue sauce off his thumb and stared at me with his crossed
eyes. "Jeremy plays favorites. Aside from Sonia, who he's always fucking
because he wants her to have his baby, at any given time he's got a chick
favorite and a guy favorite. Greg was the guy favorite. Then you came
along." He didn't say anything more about this, but there were two things I
gathered from this conversation, one of which I understood right away, and
the second that I should have understood but didn't at the time. The first
was that Dack had been the favorite before Greg. The second--the thing I
didn't want to think about--was that eventually there would be a new
favorite who would replace me.

Indeed, almost immediately, a new face appeared at the next party we had. I
was totally unprepared for the turmoil that this person's arrival caused in
my world, which I hadn't realized was so fragile. Beginning at Christmas
2005 and continuing for several months afterward, the bane of my existence
was spelled B-R-Y-A-N.

First off, Bryan was dreamy looking. He was well-built though not super
athletic, and he had long blond hair, twinkling blue eyes and an infectious
smile. He was about 23 and apparently just dropped out of college at
UCLA. At one of our early parties, at a house with a pool, Bryan sat around
with his shirt off playing the guitar almost all evening. He was very
talented, had a beautiful voice and wanted to start a band, but of course
every long-haired kid in L.A. who'd ever picked up a guitar wanted to start
a band. I thought he was just some wayward college kid Jeremy had met, but
then I saw his car, a Dodge Viper, and he told us about skiing in Aspen, so
it became apparent that he was wealthy. It turned out Bryan was the son of
a Hollywood studio executive. The fact that he had money made me resent him
at first but it turned out to be very important as you'll see.

Jeremy was open about his relationship with Bryan. They kissed in front of
everybody and during that party, the one at the place with the pool where
Bryan played guitar, he and Jeremy disappeared inexplicably for the middle
part of the evening and I knew what was going on between them. The thought
of Jeremy's sperm shooting into Bryan's ass, the thought of Bryan sucking
Jeremy's dick, or the even more horrible thought of Jeremy also calling him
"dirty boy" made me boil with rage and jealousy. Bryan was friendly enough
to me and I tried to reciprocate but I couldn't help being cold toward
him. The next few days I texted Jeremy several times suggesting we go out
and even once asked point blank if I could come over and spend the
night. BUSY TONIGHT, was the answer. Yeah, right, busy fucking Bryan. I
wrote back, "Do you still love me?" He said, OF COURSE! and added a
smiley. This didn't help much.

One thing Jeremy did do was to ask me to read one of his scripts. You may
remember that that's what he really wanted to be was a scriptwriter. Around
the Christmas holidays he gave me the script he said was going to break him
into the business, and he wanted my honest opinion on where it could be
revised. Jeremy sometimes talked about making a big movie to introduce the
world to the concept of drooie, DIT and the whole philosophy he had and how
he came to discover it. The film was based on his life and his experiences
in Iraq. This script, he told me, was for that movie. So he gave me the
script, which was bound up the way Hollywood scripts usually are, three
hole punched on the side with brass brads as binding. The movie he'd
written was called "Dawn of Consciousness." Jeremy had been talking about
the movie as long as I'd known him, but he suddenly got it in gear and
finished the script as soon as Bryan was brought into the group. Obviously
Jeremy thought that Bryan would show his father the script and sell him on
making the film. So it wasn't an accident that this was happening now.

I started reading the script the weekend before Christmas. If it had just
been a bad, poorly-written movie script that would have been one thing, but
it was much worse than that. The story concerned a soldier who was deployed
to Iraq and wounded while on a patrol in Baghdad. But then inexplicably the
main character wakes up on planet Venus, with a race of super-beings called
"The Masters" recruiting him to spread their philosophy back on
Earth. Characters gave lengthy, pages-long dissertations about drooie, DIT
and the coming World War III. Then, after a side trip to Jupiter, the
Masters send the main character back to Earth on a mission to assassinate
world leaders. The last half of the script was a laundry list of gruesome
scenes of the character snuffing out the Pope, the Queen of England,
President George W. Bush, Putin of Russia, and for whatever reason Michael
Jackson. The script used their real names. At the end of the story the main
character himself becomes the Pope but also sort of the emperor of the
world, and orders mass executions "to cleanse the world." Even in my state
of abject blind love for Jeremy it occurred to me that if this was what was
going on in his head, he might think about getting some kind of
professional help.

On the up side, though, there was one completely ludicrous sex scene in the
middle of the script, apropos of nothing, that was unintentionally
funny. Jeremy had no ear for dialogue. He had a woman say at one point, in
the heat of orgasm, "The way my vagina feels right now is truly
extraordinary!" That made me laugh out loud.

Jeremy and Bryan vanished inexplicably over the Christmas holidays. I kept
texting him, asking where he was. On December 28 he finally wrote me a text
and said, I'M IN THE SIERRAS W BRYAN. SEE U IN THE NEW YEAR. I decided to
call Dack. "Shit, man, come on over," he said. "I've got booze, weed,
whatever you need." I brought Jeremy's script with me.

Dack and I drank a lot and ate a bunch of Christmas turkey that Sonia had
made (she baked turkeys for various members of the group). We started out
watching movies but halfway into a bottle of Southern Comfort we wound up
laughing over Jeremy's script. He too thought "The way my vagina feels
right now..." was the funniest thing he'd ever read. "You know that he
thinks Leonardo DiCaprio is going to play the main role?" Dack laughed. I
realized that Dack, though undoubtedly an adherent of Jeremy's philosophy,
had the ability to take him with a grain of salt. I'd lost that ability.

I can't tell you what triggered it, maybe the booze or the weed, but after
a while Dack and I were making out on his sofa. It was just a casual
thing. We started kissing, and I took off his glasses for him and we got
more into it. He was surprisingly passionate and before too long his hand
was in my lap, just gently massaging my groin. It felt good and I started
to get hard. Dack was odd looking but he had an interesting kind of
attractiveness about him, totally different than Jeremy. I reached under
his shirt and felt a nipple. It was stiff. Dack was quite thin, not an
ounce of fat on him. His skin was smooth and warm. He paused to take his
shirt off and tossed it to the floor beneath the couch. Although he laid
down under me, he was largely in control, putting his arms around the back
of my neck and pulling me down toward him. We started grinding our hips
against each other. It was strange, being with a man other than Jeremy whom
I'd gotten so used to, and also strange making out with a guy who was
skinny. I was so used to overweight men and preferred them. But I needed
something different now.

The sight and feeling of Dack's smooth chest and flat abdomen, and the
little trail of hair from his navel leading down into his pants, was
tempting. Alcohol had gone to my head. I started to unbutton his
jeans. Resting my hand inside, on his boxer shorts, I felt a long hard bar
burning through the fabric. I stroked gently. He smiled. "Aw, yeah." I
tugged on his jeans to pull them further down. His boxers were a tent. "Do
you feel like doing what I think you're gonna do?" I reached inside the fly
of his boxer shorts and pulled out the head of a long, slightly curved
penis. Dack had a surprisingly big cock. Its head, red and round, was even
more tempting. As I brought my mouth down onto it Dack clasped his hands
behind his head and grinned like the Cheshire Cat.

I sucked on him for quite a while, moving my lips back and forth across his
throbbing rod. Just having someone else's penis in my mouth was a wonderful
feeling. It was also nice listening to Dack's little moans and short
grunts, and feeling him squirm now and again, because I knew he was feeling
good. My own underwear was getting damp and I could feel a wet spot
spreading at the tip of my dick. It was all very casual up to a point. But
after a while it seemed like it was becoming something special for him. His
little comments grew more frequent. "Aw, that's good. Oh yeah. Dan, that's
really fuckin' good, buddy. That's just...oh shit, that feels good. Oh
buddy, you're doin' somethin' to me now. Yeah, that's good, that's so
good!" His squirming grew more intense. Looking up at him there were beads
of sweat starting to break out on his forehead. His dick twitched in my
mouth. I stroked his balls which were pulling up close to his body. As he
approached orgasm he groaned really loud and grabbed the back of my head,
forcing me down on his cock and making it impossible for me to get it out
of my mouth. His body shuddered. The dick between my lips quivered and let
loose. He shot several quick hot spurts of seed down my throat, all the
while grabbing my hair and holding me in place. "Uhhhhhh, God yes! Oh, fuck
yeah." Dack's cum tasted quite different than Jeremy's, almost a musty
taste. It was probably from all the weed.

I got off him, reached for the Southern Comfort and washed down his seed
with it. I already felt better, but my penis was now pretty insistent that
it be taken care of. I began unzipping my shorts. The splotches of precum
on the front of my boxer briefs looked, by coincidence, almost like a map
of Africa. Dack reached up and scratched my balls gently through my
underwear. "What do you want me to do for you?" he said. I was surprised
but there was real tenderness in his voice for the first time.

We kissed a bit more. I said, in almost a whisper, "Will you let me top
you? He only lets me bottom."

"Let's not talk about him." Dack kissed my neck. "And yeah, I will. Why
don't we go to bed?"

Dack's small bedroom was trashed and with the heavy metal and horror
posters it had the look of an overgrown dorm room, but that didn't
matter. He turned on some colored lights, turned them down low, got some
oil and spread himself naked on the bed, face-down. I gave him a back
massage first, rubbing oil into his shoulders, down his spine and his
hips. Then I started massaging his butt cheeks. He smiled, his hands
clasped under his chin, and said, "That feels really good." He began to
spread his legs, a little at first but then wider and wider. I put a big
glob of oil on my dick and slathered it on, dripping onto Dack's ass and
legs. I gripped myself tightly, aimed for his hole, and pushed. It took a
little while to find exactly the right angle but when he accepted me I slid
into him nice and easy. The feeling of being inside another man's butthole
for the first time in over a year was electric.

We had a surprisingly gentle fuck. I was quite turned on but it was nice to
do it low-key for a change. At one point I paused, bent over Dack and said,
"The way my penis feels right now is truly extraordinary!" He
laughed. Within a minute or two I was pumping in a steady rhythm. I
whispered that I was getting close. "You go right ahead and do it," he told
me. My climax crept up on me. I tipped my head back, sighed softly and then
came really hard. It felt like I shot a river into him. The release was
incredibly satisfying.

We were both drunk and stoned and I don't remember that much after that. We
woke up the next morning in his trashed bedroom, a sliver of sunlight
casting across the bed, and Dack's skinny arms were drawn up around me. He
was naked and I could feel his flaccid dick and slack ball sack against the
skin of my ass. It wasn't a sexual feeling but rather a comforting one. He
was asleep and snoring. I lay there, curled in his embrace, for as long as
I could. Finally he snorted awake and said something about being hungry.

In the state I was in over Jeremy, and especially my fog of jealousy about
Bryan, I would never in a million years have dreamed that Dack and I would
end up as lovers, but I couldn't deny how much I enjoyed our night together
and how badly I needed it. As I went home that day I figured it probably
wouldn't be long before we wound up in bed together again. Would that cause
problems with Jeremy? It's not like he forbade anyone in the group to fuck
each other, but then again a lot of his rules went unspoken. It was
definitely going to be a tricky thing.

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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