Gothic

By Davis Trell

Published on Feb 26, 1997

Gay

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Gothic. by davis trell

They say....

"An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth..."

After the humiliation, I swore revenge, for the grievance of my sullied flesh. A youth, paltry, whose gates had been stormed and pillaged. A tear-stained pillow the only witness, the stained sheets the only evidence, long since destroyed. A temple, desecrated, debased, degraded, debauched.

I lured him back, the lunking hulk of the man he'd become. With promises of honey.

To the top room, up the stairway, with its lighthouse window, an aperture opening onto the roiling sea of humanity below, a view of beached whales, porpoises, lobster and dolphin, tuna and trout. I closed the curtain so none can see in.

I had grown, both in body, brain and cunning.

I hadn't recognised him at first, at the Hesperion resturaunt o'er looking the Bay. Where ships that pass in the night, meet, unload after docking, replenish and leave for newer shores.

I gone to borrow a pen from the bar, to note the address of one Thom Barth, a tourist from Sarajevo, sitting at the table across from me. I glanced at the mirror, to tidy my hair, and saw the face, I'd learned to loathe in the dark dewed glass. A scowl disguised as a grin, creased his bull like face. His eyebrows grunted a flicker of recognition. A hand slapped around my thigh, gripping buttock, vulgarily, uninvited and unwelcome.

"It's cocksucker Matt! Haven't seen you in a jew's age. My, but you've fleshed out your sorry scrawny frame. Grown a pair of man's tits since last I seen you; how's your cock, grown, I hope?"

"Fletcher! How utterly fabulous to see you! Handsome as ever, I see."

The lying response came easy to my lips. Like a poker player, playing stud, I hid my true feelings, of disgust, of deception.

But first a feint.

I made my excuses, to say farewell to Thom, but alas, he had gone. My chance to flavor East European peccadillos, staunched. I returned and now could pay full attention to my reclaimed foe.

He sat at the bar, alone. His body big, shirt-opened to expose blackhaired chest, leathered muscle, a bead of sweat trickling along the pectoral ledge to a cavernous armpit that smelled of temptation.

"How long as it been?" I asked.

"Since my dick grew down to my knee."

I picked up the pink drink he bought me, pulled out the plastic umberella, rolled the cocktail stick end on my tongue, twisted my torso, rested an elbow on the counter and brushed my ass against his bulbous lap. The buttons of his fly, strained to constrain the enormity it held secret.

I pressed my left hand palm against his jaw, feeling the quivering masseter muscle; and he turned his head and licked the flat underside of my wrist.

"Still a cocktease, you little fucker."

"Still a horsecock, you big man you."

The flirtation continued thuswise, for an intemperate length of time. The compliments becoming coarser, closer to the gutter, the language of love twisted into sado-machositic romance.

All the while my mind formulating the plot of my revenge.

The stratagem simple - seduction.

And so he was here, all six feet-three, two hundred ten pounds, a body full of expectation and impatience, his lust forming an aura of sensual libidinous emanations, striated with sexual anticipation.

An eagerness, he had, to bare my body, expose my carnal orifice, impale me with ferocity, give no quarter, leave me bleeding, as he had done before, at the dawning of my innocence. I would be revenged.

You might think me insane to invite the luggard into the very environs of my home, where I had slept peacefully only the night before, with the kindly married tax-accountant who had shared my flowers and sowed the sweet seed of man, at harmony with the universe. He'd left quietly, leaving a small token of his admiration and of my enterprise.

Fletcher paid a passing comment, how he liked the size of my room, glad to see there was a lock and barred windows.( A recent spate of neighborhood robberies making this inevitable.)

The bed with strong head board had been made, freshened sheets lain thereon, the pillows fluffed, the duvet turned down. An invitation for lovemaking, a rose in the center, now out of place, poisoned by his presence, contaminated by his decadence.

His raven colored hair, his face a mask of red passion. He made one grand movement and emerged from his clothing, cock hard.

"Whaddaya say we skip the foreplay. Grease your butt, it's gonna get a lot of friction."

"No. No, we musn't forgo the pleasantries, you have to suck till I cumm, then you may have your anal way." I pirouetted away, but not before teasing him, displaying my ass.

In the bathroom cabinet I found what I was looking for. A form of laudanum, or so my doctor tells me, an opiate for insomnia as I have difficulty sleeping, awakened as I am by wet dreams, that come in the night, violent in their fantasy, luxuriant in their imagination, but the nocturnal emissions make me look haggard at work, and I need to keep my scrivenly job.

I pour the potion into the KY jelly, and return to my satyrnine guest. He lays abed, idly flopping his engorged cock, and working up his cannon balled testicles into boilerrooms of sperm production.

I clamber up, and kiss him full and langourously on the lips and he tells me to quit with the sissy stuff. So I flaunt my too-aroused dick, and press it close to his face, bouncing the shaft against his nose, so he can smell, and rub the pink head against his mouth, so he can taste my succulent stick.

He pounces on and savors full, boysweet flesh, yummy delicious, straight and true, not like my heart, black, tell-tale of my soul.

He sucks greedily, like a fastee breaking a hungerstrike. His lips warm and wet, noisily greedy, his tongue - sandpaper rough clutching my penis like a trowel, swishing it inside his mouth, nipping with his ivory white teeth, grazing and almost bruising my intimate extension, Jonah in the belly of the whale. My buttocks clench as I plunge inside his face, slurped and epiglottised, churning my lower abdomen, harpooning in a seaspray of saliva and pre-come.

It tasted sweet, I know it did, as I had lubricated my cock with the imbrocation, that would produce stupor, even before I could ejaculate. But did any way, and my pearl-white come splashed and oozed on his snoring face, not waking him up. I sat down in his heavy breathing lap, and licked off my cumsnot and tasted him, mixed with me and drank the concoction of sweat and sperm, matted into his chest hair like beads of milk-dew.

While he slept I tied him up, gagged and chained him with handcuffs and fisticuffs, manacles and rope.

His body was heavy as I pulled him up to a sitting position, his head hanging down as if he had been rabbit-chopped, and turned him over, his torso on the bed, his knees on the floor, legs spread wide, restrained to the bed. I found the Xtra large dildo, a joke present from friends, and jammed it into his hole and buried it deep between his butt cheeks and waited for him to wake and for my testes to resupplement, as when what I was going to do next, needed total refurbishment. I pushed and pulled on the way too far inserted dildo, playing with it as a gearshift, changing from forward to reverse and park in no particular order. The smell of brimstone and excrement filled the soft air, like atop the Himalayas, rarerified and heady.

A murmured grunt arose, stopped, became a wail, painful and excoriating, like I had felt, lo those many months before.

My captive awoke, and the gag forced his protestations into a garble of Joycean nonsense.

I ran to the other side of the bed and rubbed my ass in his face, slipping the tip of his nose into my anal rose, forcing his nostrils closed, engulfed between my ass cheeks and let him smell my unclean hole, letting wisps of flatulence gag his sensitive nasal membranes.

His eyes blinded by buttocks, gouging his eyelids, the gag shouting entreaties to my non-listening scrotum. I climbed over his back, scissor gripping his head with my thighs and gained easy purview of the giant barber-pole stuck fat up his ass. I gave it a turn, to produce an Indian burn on his sphincter, that winced at the pucker, groaned under the strain. Some measure of compassion flitted through my brain so I pulled out my mimetic cocksword, stained with shit, I threw it away. I pressed open his globular gluteals, clamping hard with my hands, and filled in with tongue, the wingeing whimpering calyx, and breathed fiery venom, into the echoing walls.

A fist, I thought, were bigger than a hand, so I delved deep inside, until only wrist was exposed. I should rip out his prostate, and bury his gonads into his duodenum, but compassion won out: I relented.

So I slid down and everted myself to sandwich my manhood Ôtwixt cushiony flesh, meaty and tense, and grabbed hold of his shoulders, a fulcrum for the force as I dipped my dick in. With Trojan protection, polyurethane armored, I crossed the portcullis and forced my way in. A maelstrom of boiling man-eating man, I fucked his bronzed ass, with self-indulgence, and allowed poetic license as I sawed, and jack-hammered, with lumberjack frenzy, a steelworker in hell, like Vulcan's smithy, smelting ore into gold. The bed groaned and creaked under as I fucked him with due anger, lunging and plunging, giving no quarter, until the wet explosion, spurted within, cockthrobbing, spending it's load. White vengeance, slick with slime, his cobwebbed interior, clammy walled posterior, sore with my exertions. A volcanic rumbling ensued and he started to come on the covers, I put a handstrangle round the base of his dick, and he humped it, bleaching the paisley pattern with hot fetid cum.

I rolled on my back, stroked my rod, strong warrior, now soft soldier, pulled off the condom, and wiped away the excess. He lay beside me, furious with anger, you could read the indignation as I slapped his ass hard.

I took off the gag, so at last he could speak.

The vein in his temple turned white as he let out the invective, unsuitable for human consumption, filled as it was with blood-curdling oaths, threatening my extinction. I was highly amused.

He spluttered on, until his vocabulary weakened, as he ran out of words. He struggled awhile, the bonds held him firm, he posed no danger, so I kissed him full, and a twinkle shone in my eye.

I feed him daily, with nutrient protein, gleaned from the health store, I want him to stay fit.

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