In The Dark...

Fawkes’ sandy skin tantalised him as he took the corner.

The boy just left, the recently moved in, Brazilian family’s curb house to make it for his. It’d been a long day filled with excitement over the football match between Germany and Argentina and it was nearly 10 o’clock on this cool Trinidadian night.

Milo had never gotten to see him take off his shirt even in the heated football matches the block boys got into. So this was a treat.

With shirt hem in mouth revealing a relatively smooth, barely rippling stomach, the young man walked slowly down the street, oblivious that he was being watched, or that he had been watched for quite some time.

Milo had to know where the boy lived. The crush was getting unbearable and he needed at least some information other than a name.

He jumped down off his perch from his one-storey balcony and hit the ground hard on his feet. It was a little painful but with the amount of practice he’d had in his spare time, due to a lack of a social life, he’d trained himself to get used to the shock and had developed a number of other useful skills as well.

He ran up to his wall and ran up the face landing on his palms with his legs hanging lazily behind him. He brought them over his head and secured his feet onto the wall’s flat top. He ran across the top and when he reached his neighbour’s gate he hurled himself into the air and landed hard onto the wall on the other side.

He quickly regained his equilibrium and continued until he reached the Jamaicans’ house and slowly took the bending wall.

Shuffle!

He’d stumbled on the wall.

Fawkes had already reached the end of the little street that turned into another circular of houses. He turned around immediately at the sound.

Milo held his breath as he froze up.

Fawkes looked directly at him. Or at least in his direction. Then he looked away, shaking his head, not showing any sign of having knowledge of being followed.

Milo exhaled a relieved sigh.

The night’s darkness was blocking him from sight. But he was getting dangerously close to the orange pools of light that the streetlight cast on top of Fawkes.

He watched as Fawkes disappeared into one of the open yards of the circular’s houses. Milo slowly dismounted the wall. Moving cautiously so he may not reveal himself in the pools of light, for he knew that that was the weakness of his clever trick.

Milo crept closer to Fawkes’ circular as he left his.

“Boy,” a deep voice came.

He was petrified the instant the voice came.

“Leave that boy be.”

He knew who it was. It was that old witch that lived behind the Jamaicans.

“Maman,” he addressed her respectfully, “I’m not doing mischief, just...looking.”

He turned to her.

She was probably the only one who could see him, next to baser creatures, like animals. Their eyes met. Hers were as cold as ice. But he maintained the stare for a few seconds. Then they thawed.

She took more puffs of her smoking burning cigar.

“Oh,” she breathed and turned away, “Shade what you are looking for is to be presented before you. But will you know what to do with it?”

She continued disappeared into her house.

Milo leered into the dark house until the door slammed on its own, spooking him off balance and throwing him onto the ground.

He felt the light of the streetlights hit him. He was no longer out of sight! He launched to his feet and looked around to see if he’d been spotted.

No one was outside. No one saw.

He turned to the house Fawkes had gone into. He’d have to dodge the entire ring of street lights that covered the houses in revealing orange light; which was absolutely impossible.

His pursuit was over.

Creak!

He jumped. A side gate swung open a bit. He looked at it then up at the house. The witch’s house.

“Thank you witch,” he said to himself and he entered the premises.

He trailed into the backyard until he reached a weathered wall smudged with moss and various fungal growths that bordered the neighbourhood. In it was a cast iron gate that opened into the wild bushes which spread around the neighbourhood.

Each house had a gate leading inside their backyard. He had to figure out which one was Fawkes’ own.

He trailed along the wall looking into each cast iron gate to see whose house he was looking into. After four houses he reached one with a bicycle leaned up against the house’s back wall that looked familiarly like Fawkes’.

This house was much closer to the wall, possibly due to individual renovations. A light went on in one of the back rooms. Milo cowered behind the wall, peeping inside the gate. He could see Fawkes, bareback. His heart jumped.

Fawkes was picking some things off the ground while a laptop adjacent to the side window of the room booted up.

Milo looked at the boy’s body. He felt a little awkward since the boy was a year younger than he was. Still he was bigger than he was and was pretty sure could get beaten up by him.

Click!

Creak!

The gate, that Milo was pretty sure was locked tightly, creaked open.

“Thanks witch but I didn’t need that.”

He swallowed hard as readied himself to get closer. He moved from behind the wall and walked right into the gate, walking through it as if it were just air. It swung back as his entire body passed through and made a quiet creak.

He hoped that they didn’t own any dogs. Looking to see if there were any, he made a quickly survey of the premises and noticed a mango tree. Standing in front of a small deck was a tall mango tree which provided enough shade for him to hide and watch into the room. He quickly made his way into it and climbed up the branches and toward the branch that clawed at the room’s open sash windows.

He hid behind the wall next to the window and peeped in. Someone could easily access the house if they wanted to. This room seemed to have no burglar-proofing over the wide open windows. He could jump in if he wanted to.

He was closer now to see the boy. Beginnings a six pack etched its way across his stomach, while his chest warned that if some hard work were put in would fill out very nicely. His legs were already big and every time he bent down to pick something up off the floor revealed his stone-hard calves.

Milo bit his lip.

He took out his iPhone and played around with it until he came upon the camera app, set the camera on multi-shot option. He held his breath and stretched his arm out and pressed the capture button. A flourish of electronically generated camera flashes came and stopped.

He pulled his hand back immediately, buried his iPhone in his hoodie’s frontal pocket to hide the light and pressed his body against the wall, hoping he hadn’t been heard.

Milo slowly poked his head out to look into the room. Fawkes was sitting down on the chair in front of the laptop. His hand was below his waist, disappeared into his crotch. Milo’s eyes were wide open.

He watched as he pulled the waist of his pants down and let out his erect penis. Milo licked his lips and pursed them tightly.

An electronic chime filled his room. His laptop had finished booted up. Fawkes immediately turned down the volume.

He moved the mouse’s pointer to the red O on the desktop and double clicked.
Milo’s hand instinctively went down to his crotch as he watched his pursuit play with his own crotch.

A window opened and pornographic images splashed across the screen.

Milo almost choked when he realised what Fawkes was gawking at. That can’t be true. Milo knew those images.

A video popped up and Fawkes directed the cursor to the play button. A younger man was sitting on top of an older hairier guy while he lay back letting the younger one ride his penis. It was gay porn.

Milo set his iPhone on the camera app again and set it on Fawkes this time he wasn’t being cautious not to be seen. He positioned the iPhone in just the right place so he could catch Fawkes. Then when he was satisfied with the angle he selected the multi-shot option and clicked the capture button.

Voom!

The electricity was cut off with a loud sound. The entire place got dark. Milo’s iPhone and Fawkes’ laptop shone in the darkness.

“Shit!” Fawkes swore.

He saw the laptop screen close down. Then the lights flickered on but his head was still poked
out into the room.

Milo didn’t even notice that Fawkes had moved to his door and he was now in his line of sight.
But Milo’s eyes were fixed on the laptop.

“What the fuck! You! What the fuck are you doing there!”

Shit!

Milo tumbled off the mango tree’s branch onto ground but felt something yank him up by his hoodie’s hood. He almost choked. He needed to think fast without pissing Fawkes off anymore.

“I...I...I have photos of you, leave me alone,” Milo whimpered trying to bargain with the, obviously, pissed Fawkes.

He felt him let go and he dropped face first on the floor.

Thud!

Fawkes vaulted through the window and landed over him.

He felt a heavy foot clamp down on his neck. “Give me the pictures, now!”

“No, I can’t.”

He felt Fawkes’ foot ease off his neck.

“I’ll let you go if you just give me the pictures,” Fawkes backed away.

Milo raised his face slowly off the ground. He came to a kneeling position. His face was nearly in kissing distance of Fawkes’ hot crotch. He looked at it and then up at Fawkes. He couldn’t believe what he was about to say. But Fawkes could kill him if he wanted to, pictures and all.

“We’ll do a trade,” Milo looked at the boy’s crotch and then down on the ground.

Fawkes looked down at the boy and knew exactly what he was talking about. The thought flashed acorss his mind; the pictures were more incriminating than one bad memory. He clenched his teeth and pulled down his pants.

Milo watched as the silky pants dropped to the floor. Fawkes’ penis was long between his legs, about 6 or 7 inches semi-hard. It bounced up and down as the pants slid along it. Milo swallowed.

Fawkes grabbed Milo’s brown hair and pulled his head to face him. His olive skin shone in the light from his room. Those hazel eyes were filled with fear and a twinkle of excitement.

His eyes dropped to his fairly round lips. It was better than his hand and Milo wasn’t bad looking. But, it was somewhat discomforting that he was going to do what he was going to do with the boy he and the block boys had labelled queer, and weird.

Fawkes stooped and looked into his eyes, “Just give me the camera. This is the beginning of something you don’t want to continue.”

“You and I both know that I’ve just uncovered the biggest secret since Area 51.” Why the hell was he bargaining with a boy who had nothing to lose if he just beat him up and take the phone?

“Do it quick. And don’t even fucking think about choking. You vomit, I fucking kill you,” Fawkes growled and pushed his face away.

He reclined slowly placing his elbows on the ground behind him. He closed his eyes, spread his legs. His erect penis sprung up excitedly.

Milo came forward hesitantly. He was trembling--nervous. He crawled closer up to Fawkes' crotch and slowly grabbed the boy's penis. He lowered his face and brought his lips to the head. He licked it like he'd seen in the movies. Then he wrapped his lips around its hardness. His tongue slid down the shaft, then up.

Fawkes shuddered. Milo stopped when he did and looked up at him. Dark eyes shot lasers at him as if to scream, "Why did you stop!". Milo continued.

Up and down he pushed and pulled his lips, mouth and tongue. It wasn't as enjoyable as he'd seen in those movies because he had to continue lubricate his tongue with spit that seemed to be running out. After a tiring process of Milo trying not to gag, while keeping his mouth wet, and trying not to drag his teeth too close to the boy's skin, Fawkes breathing grew ragged and faster.

Moments after Milo heard him let out a sharp grunt and something wet and warm shot behind his mouth. Coughing, Milo recoiled quickly and slammed into the wall behind him. Milo swiped his hand around his mouth after spitting the ejaculate out.

Fawkes looked at Milo sitting with his back against the wall. His expression was mortified. He knew the boy would regret it.

“Happy now, battyboy? Pictures,” he said with his hand outstretched, after he’d pulled up his pants over his monster.

Milo looked down. Ashamed, he couldn't even face him even though the embarrassment was on Fawkes, for allowing him to.

He fished in his hoodie’s front pocket and took out the iPhone. He crawled over to the side of him and gave him.

Fawkes yanked it from his hands and got up. He walked to the deck behind the mango tree. He turned on the light and sat down on a chair.

Milo followed him.

Fawkes looked up at him. “What! You’re not getting this back.”

“It’s my phone—“ he whined.

“It's my backyard. I could call the motherfucking police.”

Milo bit down on his lips. He was right. He began to turn to walk away.

“Serves me right, then,” he said solemnly, remembering the witch’s warning.

He snailed away heavily.

Fawkes stared up at him. In a few seconds, everything flashed across his mind. Summer was beginning, his sexuality was getting harder and harder to deal with, the spying had caught him on a terrible time, there was too much to deal with having to deal with this too. Probably this was a chance to deal with it. He couldn't have a boyfriend, no, this would be like therapy--yeah therapy.

His thoughts chewed at him. He clenched his teeth behind his pursed lips and balled his hand up into a fist, squeezing the phone in the other. He couldn't believe what he'd decided next.

Fawkes let out a sharp breath. “Hey.”

Milo wheeled around.

“Keep it, keep everything,” he said throwing the boy’s phone back at him.

Milo caught it and tried hard to stifle his forming smile, but the relief was too great. He looked up at Fawkes in unsureness, steel eyes stared back.

“Thanks. And I'm really really sorry.”

“I'm not,” a devious glint came at the side of his eye, “Um,” he scratched his head and looked down, “Tomorrow, same time?”

Milo looked at him confused and just to make sure he asked, “Is that uh...a date?”

“You're fucking up the moment, man.”

“Ye-Ye-Yeah,” he stuttered while walking backward out of the yard.

“Okay, alright, um good night? Wait, I never really got your name.” Fawkes looked up to meet a locked gate and empty yard.

He furrowed his eyebrows, and then he returned to the window leading to his room and jumped inside.

Three Hundred Dollars...

Gabe, wide-eyed, biting back the tears, holding his breath behind the lump in his throat, continued down Baptist Street. Half-holding his grade sheet he made his way to West Hall University Admission office that was just at the end of the street.

Dell’s Annexe had served as a Pre-University centre that was supposed to ease entry into West Hall for students who were willing to pay their exorbitant tuition fees. What he’d seen on the grade sheet was definitely not worth the ten thousand dollars his parents had to grudgingly fork over.

Ring!

He almost vomited his beating heart out. Wedged inside a pocket on the strap of his Levi’s sling bag, was his cell-phone. He looked down at the pocket and sped up.

The opening grounds was filled with students, smiling, laughing. He wished they'd stop. He felt as if they were laughing at him. How did they get pass those exams?

He entered the admissions office. The waiting area was sparse. But too sparse. He scanned any face to see who he’d known. When he was sure he safe that no one he knew was in the office he sat down after taking a pink number at the front desk. He looked at the Now Serving screen. The LED lights blinked then changed. They were serving his number now.

He got up immediately and rushed to the closest open desk. He sat down and was welcomed with an exasperated sigh by the admissions clerk.

“How may I help you?” the bored clerk breathed out.

“I’ve come to complete my application,” Gabe squeaked.

A large hand stretched out for the necessary paperwork and lazy eyes bore holes into him.

Gabe tremblingly raised the grade sheet over the desk’s top and handed it to the clerk. She took it from him and began tapping away at the keyboard. She turned it over and almost fell back.

After slowly punching in the information she turned to him and looked down at the grade sheet then back up at him.

“You know—“

“I know,” Gabe said with his face dropped.

“Alright, you have a good day sir,” she said rolling her eyes returning the slip back to him.
Gabe trudged heavily out of the door. His life was over.

He couldn’t go home now.

Ring!

He fished out his phone received the call. It was his mother.

“What did you get?” she asked, Gabe noticed the twinkle in her voice.

“D,” he said bluntly.

A silence came over the phone.

“Don’t bother to come home today.”

Click!

Tears finally broke his eyelids and rushed down in rivulets down his cheek. He practically ran to the bus-stop.

His mother had told him not to come home but if he’d ever broken curfew he would surely have lost his life. He needed to get home quickly just to beat his father home. He needed to be there for his expression. He couldn’t meet him home waiting for him.

Though he needed to get home at a certain time fate had something a little stranger planned out for him. He boarded a Watersley Bus and sat down near to the back where the seats became two-seaters that faced the front of the bus.

He grabbed his iPod out of his sling bag and plugged the earphones into his ears. Before he put it on a young man sat down near to him.

He knew him. It was that Jacob boy from Dell’s Annexe. He was a year behind him. He was an attractive guy who Gabe had developed a little crush on during the year. A blush would come across his face when he came around. That reaction was not relevant now he had to worry about his parents, the beating he was sure to get. But first he’d have to see his father storm out of the house and storm back in with T-square.

He felt the youth’s eyes pierce him from the side of his eyes, searching him. Gabe wiped his eyes, just in case he’d notice him crying. Pulling himself straight up against the seat’s back, he made sure nothing gave away his emotions so the boy could stop looking at him. Then he felt the boy’s hand travel across his thigh and on top of his crotch under his sling bag.

Gabe tightened up then garnered enough strength to whisper the most peculiar words.

“Uh-uh, pay first and not here.”

The boy looked at him confused for a few moments then with a risen eyebrow a smirk crawled up the side of his thick lips and he took his hand away and dove into his back pocket.

He pulled out a wallet and parted the inside lips of the money holder. Gabe noticed a couple hundred dollar bills fitted neatly inside.

“How much?” he sighed.

“Two,” Gabe whispered putting up two fingers.

The boy’s eyebrows rose. Gabe's eye met his and didn’t leave.

He sucked in a breath and shook his head then took them out and threw it on his lap.

Gabe grabbed it up, and looked at Jacob as he looked in the driver’s direction. Minutes passed as he waited for the boy’s next reaction.

Then it came.

“Press the bell.”

Gabe looked outside to see the next stop. It was Newnanton. Anywhere but here. The cliché would have been too ironic. Newnanton was the capital of sexual immorality on the East-West corridor. It was always dirty, a wet dirty and stank. The people looked dirty and shifty characters stood like sentinels at every corner. Abandoned buildings served as private nooks for the carrying out of whatever fantasy was on the menu.

“Press it,” the youth demanded.

Gabe hesitated, thinking about what he was going to do. He was still a virgin. But it was the fastest two hundred he’d made in his life.

He pressed the bell for a stop.

The stop came and other things.

They had made their way into a room of an abandoned hair salon; where Gabe's virginity was lustfully taken from him.

Jacob slammed Gabe into a wall and tore off his pants and began.

It wasn’t hard diverting Jacob’s attention from the fact that it was his first time because he had to do everything Jacob said he wanted to do to him.

“Here’s another for good service,” a hundred dollar bill floated onto the ground in front of him as he wiped his mouth off.

Gabe picked it up and crumpled it up and shoved it into his pocket.Then the young man began walking away.

“Wait,” guilt overcame him.

“You don’t have to tell me it was your first time.”

“No,” Gabe forced a foxy smile over his face and took out his sharpie marker from his bag.

The boy turned around and looked at him. Gabe slid his hand into the boy’s shirt and up to his chest where he gently rubbed his nipple taut. Then he took his other hand, sharpie marker in his grip and pushed up the shirt.

“Tell you friends about me, tiger.”

Gabe penned his number across his wide trunk. Then put his lips on his hard nipple. Something hard poked his thigh and then he let go.

The youth tried to pull him back. Gabe's heart raced but he managed to pull away. He ran to his bag and walked away, “You didn’t pay for all that.”

Gabe left him with his hand fishing in his tented crotch and a wet smile on his face.

Three hundred dollars.

Those Eyes

The dog flew between the iron railings, slammed into the car, and landed on the grass below, dead.

Retracting the foot that had just launched behind the brown pup, he looked down at the limp body with cold indifferent eyes. As he was getting ready to go downstairs and hide the evidence his eyes caught its brother on the other side of the iron grate fence.

An innocent inquisitive look came upon its young face as it tilted its large head to one side and looked at his brother lying on the floor.

Their owners were warned about their frequent uninvited visits into his yard, the territory of his blue-gray Chartreux, Ocean. This time the pup had managed to kill Ocean after successfully wounding it a week and a half ago. So he’d taken it upon himself to reciprocate.

He looked into the silvery-blue eyes of his dead cat wide open. It was the trait they shared. Like two silvery ocean pools, their eyes shone bright in the sunlight and flashed a mirror-like sheen in the night.

Then he saw the pup’s expression changed. The innocence melted off its face in a flash. What replaced it shouldn’t belong to a darling creature. In fact that expression didn’t belong to any animal in the animal kingdom.

The young man looking at the dog did know to whom, or to what, it did belong.

Warily he made his way down the flight of stairs. They weren’t pups, or dogs for that matter. Now that he knew what they were he knew that he was no longer safe, in his house or in this neighbourhood.

Their eyes locked as he reached downstairs and walked over to the body. Then as he picked up the body the most unearthly bark emanated from its small mouth. He quickly made his way to the backyard running alongside the fence. Rustling leaves followed him as he flew into the backyard, his eyes caught the pup as it appeared. Blood-red dots replaced its previously brown eyes a thirsty look in its eyes appeared.

The young man threw the dog’s corpse over the moss-stained wall that blocked his backyard from the overgrown empty lot behind his house.

A yelp followed then he snapped his neck just in time to see the pup launch into the air. Mid-air a most gruesome transformation took place.

Bones arthritically bend over each other and broke making room from much bigger bones. Its paws spread out painfully and snapped apart as longer claws stretched forth. Shoulder bones arched over dangerously and cracked making room for a much wider, more humanly shoulders. Its jaws dislocated and dropped then a large snout protruded as rows of sharp teeth made their way out of its gums to fill up the space. Its forelegs snapped a 90 degree angle from its shoulders as muscle spread across its underbelly.

It was almost on top of him when he yelled, “Cirsmetré!”

A thing long dark wand materialised in his grasp it was pointed at the dog-beast that was getting really to land on top of him.

He quickly combed through his memory of spells to find the perfect one.

“Bir Sighit!” a series of arrow shaped orange flames sputtered from the tip of his wand and swallowed the beast in fire.

Before the fire-encased creature fell upon him it was consumed by the fire which burnt itself out in a small wisp of smoke.

Growl!

He returned his eyes to the fence. His neighbours were standing looking at him piercing him with blood-red eyes, hungry.

He readied his wand.

A Secret, A Regret

I stared into his brown eyes. They were close enough to notice the pugilistic steeliness in them. They were genuine, unflinching. It wasn’t a joke. And he wasn’t drunk.

“Aaron?” I choked.

I almost fell back as I nervously forced out the question behind the lump forming in my throat. His strong arm caught my back. I melted into them.

He was biting and licking his lips as he alternated his brown eyes from my eyes to my lips.

Uncomfortable, I tried squirmed out of his arm, but his grip locked on me.

I could feel his breath as he lowered his lips onto mine. They locked. His heavy body pushed mine further onto the cold dusty ground. He slid his arm from under me. A hard hand caught one of my dangling legs and pulled it around his waist. I felt a hard lump rub slowly between my legs.
I groaned and pulled my lips away. Our eyes met again for a moment.

“I promise I won’t,” he said, half-pleading to continue kissing.

“No, Aaron,” I pushed him further off, “What are you doing? Your boxing?”

“Don’t think about that?” he shoved himself at me.

“No,” and turned my face away.

Warm, wet lips met my neck. They kissed it and kissed again then again descending my neck every time.

“Aaron, you can’t be gay.”

The kissing stopped and then he slowly rose off me.

I propped myself on my elbows. I peered over the ledge it was a little way down but substantial enough to cause damage after abruptly ending the descent with the concrete floor waiting below.
Aaron slid off the ledge and caught the ground with his feet like Spiderman would.

“Aaron,” I called, he began walking away.

I knew how badly it would jeopardise his boxing career. There were no gay boxers. I hardly knew him. All I knew was that he was smart and boxing was his passion. He was a friend of a friend and now we were here.

The night was rolling over into morning and I had gone over to the ledge of the elevated deck where the party had begun to get away from the noise. The party had now moved to the pool that was peeking through the brushes adjacent to the deck.

Party noises floated all the way over here, I could still hear that the party still had its life. The laughs were louder now, the topic of the jokes were slowly slipping into mundane silliness brought about by a burgeoning alcohol-fuelled buzz.

I sighed and tried to get over the fact that the first time I would kiss a guy was spoiled by yours truly. He was so good looking.

In the distance, I saw him peel off his shirt and throw it in the basin that welcomed people to the poolside. He looked back at me just before he disappeared behind the brushes that cordoned off the pool area from the massive hill mansion.

“Hey!”

I was yanked away just before I thought saw Aaron put his finger on his lips. I looked up it was Yates, Aaron’s manager. Then I turned back to catch a glimpse of Aaron disappearing into the pool area.

“Yates!” the words shot out of my mouth nervously.

I shot up and tried to hide the fact that Aaron was here just moments before. Yates was draped with a sleeping robe standing in front of the glass sliding doors that opened up to the large deck.

His small finger was studded with his classic massive gold ring, quite reminiscent of those mafia bosses’. He had his hand wrapped around a plastic cup of bubbly in his hand.

“Aren’t you going to the pool?” his eyebrows rose, as he brought the drink to his lips.
The mansion was his, this party for Aaron and his win.

“Yeah,” I shook my head as the images of Aaron’s warmth and his body pressing close at me were immediately erased.

Erasing them may somehow clear me of the building guilt that was stifling my entire body.

“Well go on, boy,” his tone was rough, just like a boxer should be.

I turned off at the order and began to descend the stairs when his next words hooked me like an unsuspecting fish nibbling on the free lunch that had just infiltrated his part of the pond only to be yanked out of the water and into death.

“I told him to stop fooling around with his boys. You did something brave there, boy. He doesn’t really get much nos anymore since he’d become superstar.”

The words were seemed like just inconsequential words hanging on an individual thread that made no sense whatsoever. Even after Yates returned inside I was frozen, one foot on the last step I’d stepped down from and the other on the next. Five minutes flew past me in a stupor.

“I thought you were going.”

Dripping wet, glistening dark skin, tall, defined and toned, Aaron stood drying himself at the bottom of the stair.

“Yates—“

“Yates told you,” he turned his face up in a frown.

One bare foot took the first step then he slowly made his ascent toward me. He shook his head and looked down on the floor. I couldn’t stop my hand as it came up to his face. I caressed his cheek.

“How long’d you know?”

He swallowed and breathed in hard, and then he grabbed my leg up and with amazing strength lifted me off the ground and slammed me into the wall. He shoved his lips onto mine forcing me to open mine. A hot wet tongue penetrated my mouth, coaxing an eagerly waiting one to slide past it.

He locked our fingers and brought them up above my head. His hand left them and trailed down my sides as he freed my hands I wrapped them around his shoulders and neck as much as I could and felt his hands invade my jeans. They grabbed my butt as he thrust himself into me softly. I wrapped my legs around his waist and felt his hard erection stab my crotch. He unzipped my crotch and bit my lip. He looked boldly into my eyes and grinned as he tore off my belt and tore open my crotch. His other hand hiked up my shirt and snapped off each button. When he was finished it joined the other one on its conquest of my groin and pulled down my briefs.

His hand moved from them for a second. I looked down and saw him pull down his pants over a hard totem that sprung up as it was let out from its silken prison. He bit his lips and whispered something that sounded like, ‘Like it?’. I nodded sheepishly and he shoved his face into mine thrusting his eager tongue down my throat. I knew that all he could think about was where he could put the hungry monster between his hard thighs.

My pants dropped down and quickly followed by my briefs. I grasped tighter around his neck and shoulder waiting from the painful breaching.

It came. I tore from his lips and got ready to scream but was covered by a quick hand. He’d had practice with virgins.

He rammed it deeper into me without a care. It was only now did I realised what I’d gotten myself into as I watch at him anxiously dart his eyes here and three scoping for any intruders on their little tryst.

He turned back at me. Tear-filled eyes looked back at him. The pain was immense yet still inside me was a feeling that was indescribable I’d never felt it before. Was it pleasure?

He let his hand free slowly then pulled my head into his neck.

“Scream there,” he commanded as he savagely knifed me with his penis.
He continued touching me passing his hand over places I hadn’t known was erogenous. My taut nipples felt a pinch that sent roaring waves of pleasure across my chest. I released my buried face and looked into the night sky and let out a gasp as a familiar feeling came then intensified beyond anything I’d ever felt. My ears felt like they’d pop.

Then it was when I heard an animal grunt from the young man inside me did I realise we were done. He pulled out and slowly placed me back on the floor. Something cold and wet drained down the side of my leg as I felt something running down somewhere inside of me.

Aaron took up the towel and cleaned up the small mess on his rippling abs. Then he kissed me as he wiped up the mess between my legs. Inside was on fire, but his embrace abated the pain somehow.
Then the kisses stopped and I found myself redressed; weakly sliding down the wall as I watch him ascend the stairs. For a moment there was silence then I saw light click on and dash across the deck illuminating the ground. Then there was screaming. Something fell and then Aaron flew past me.

I looked at him go then up the stairs my eyes met with the steely gaze of Yates. He looked down in disgust as if he’d known what Aaron had done. Then I felt it, the guilt, it was like I had been violated—raped. I knew that that was all he wanted and I let him have it and now I would pay.

“Drew,” I heard a familiar voice call out.

I was halfway over the ground, half-stooping over the stairs. I quickly straightened up and looked at the bottom it was Nera.

“You ready?” she asked with a furrowed brow and confused eyes.

“Yeah,” recovering from everything in mere seconds though I wasn’t sure I really was.

Nera was in for a treat for the drive back home.