Dirty Little Secret Ch. 04

I began a new email. The subject line read: "Living off-campus."

My fingers wanted to fly over the keyboard telling him everything that happened, but I froze - what if 'they' hacked into our computers and was eavesdropping on our emails?

Yeah, I know that sounds silly and paranoid, but with the revelations of the NSA listening to our phone calls and reading our emails, maybe the university was doing the same thing-who knows? Could I risk Denny's career for my own self-interests?

I typed: "Great game! Your catch was auto-mat-ic-as usual!" Then hit 'send.'

When I climbed into bed I was too excited to fall asleep. I saw Denny's face and heard his voice. I thought of the night on my knees when I made love to his beautiful cock. I could feel its silky warmth in my mouth; his manly aroma filling my nostrils.

I pushed down my bikini briefs and caressed my erection. I remembered how I'd bobbed my head back-and-forth over his steel-hard cock; I could taste his pre-cum on my tongue.

The middle finger of my free hand found my mouth; I thrust it in-and-out of my mouth and pretended it was Denny's wonderful piece of flesh. The semen began to boil inside my engorged balls.

I raised my legs and rubbed my anus with the finger. My hand worked harder and faster over my prick; my breathing quickened; I pushed a half-inch of my finger into my rectum and the walls of my asshole greedily closed around it.

When my balls signaled my impending orgasm, I thrust the finger all the way inside me. My body spasmed and shook; I thrashed wildly about the bed as I furiously stroked the sperm and semen out of my pulsating prick.

I cried out: "OH DENNY-YES-YES-OH GOD YES-I LOVE YOU DENNY-I LOVE YOU!"

There was fifteen minutes to go before the end of my Quantum Physics class. Professor Sheldon was the most boring teacher I'd ever had in my life. Worse still, he would make 'clever' jokes that only he found funny. My mind wandered. I thought about the previous night.

It began as an ordinary Sunday. I studied hard knowing my new job was starting the next night and would take up more of my time than tutoring had.

I frequently checked my emails, but there was nothing from Denny. I hoped he understood what I'd sent him on Saturday; I was sure he would.

There was nothing from Lane either. I sent him a quick note saying 'hello', and asking how he was, but hadn't received a reply. I didn't expect to hear from him. If Mr. Hanson had threatened him like he did me I knew Lane would be scared out of his mind.

He would do absolutely anything to keep even one person from knowing his dirty little secret.

I wanted to hold and comfort Lane; kiss away his pain and caress his smooth, supple flesh. I wanted to assure him everything would be alright, but sadly, I suspected that would never happen.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. Good grief, only two minutes had gone by. Professor Sheldon was so boring he could make time stand still. I adjusted the collar on my shirt to make sure it covered the purple hickey the fat bastard had given me.

Then I thought of the events of last night—again.

I'd been sitting at the computer when I heard sounds from the apartment above mine. It was an old house, and the floors creaked when the person living there walked on certain floorboards. I heard the sound of two people walking, talking. I heard muffled voices but could not make out what they were saying. It sounded like a man and a girl.

The man raised his voice and seemed to be mad at the girl; he was yelling at her but I couldn't hear what he was saying. Their footsteps across the floorboard indicated they were moving to another room.

I followed their voices to an air vent near my sofa and the voices became more distinguishable the closer I got to the vent. I didn't know who lived above me and was naturally curious so I sat on the sofa and listened.

I could hear their words when they spoke in normal tones, but not when they lowered their voices. I felt slightly ashamed to be eavesdropping on their conversation but I couldn't help myself.

Suddenly, the man became angry again.

"WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT PLAYING WITH YOURSELF?" he screamed.

Goose-pimples broke out on my flesh; ice-cold finger-nails of shock scratched up and down my spine; I shivered violently with fear and disgust when I realized the man's voice belonged to Mr. Hanson.

"THE FRONT OF YOUR PANTIES IS SOAKED WITH CUNT-JUICE!" he shouted.

"I'M SORRY, DADDY-I WAS THINKING ABOUT YOUR BIG COCK INSIDE ME-YOU KNOW HOW EXCITED I GET WHEN YOU FUCK MY PUSSY, DADDY!"

"WELL, LITTLE GIRL, YOU"VE EARNED YOURSELF A SOUND SPANKING-LOWER THOSE PANTIES AND GET OVER MY LAP!"

"YES, DADDY-I'M SORRY, DADDY!"

"NOT AS SORRY AS YOU'RE GOING TO BE!"

What the hell is going on here? Is that bastard screwing his own daughter? This isn't right! I have to do something, I told myself. This is the most perverse thing I've ever heard.

I sat there dumbfounded and frozen in place. I knew if I went up there and confronted him he'd have the sex videos of me and Denny and Lane spread across the internet in the blink of an eye. Denny and Lane's lives ruined forever.

Then the first SMACK assaulted my ears. The poor girl screamed in vain as SMACK after SMACK landed on her buttocks.

"DADDY—NO—PLEASE!" she pleaded with her tormentor.

It was the lowest point of my life. I wasn't a man - I just sat there listening to her cries for him to stop and did nothing to help her. I was an impotent little boy cowering and shivering in shame and fear.

Suddenly my ears pricked up. There was a subtle change in her voice and I became confused. Instead of pleading with 'Daddy' to stop spanking her, she began moaning. It sounded to me like she was enjoying the punishment.

"OH GOD, DADDY-YES- THAT FEELS SOOO-GOOOOD...YES, PUSH YOUR FINGER INSIDE MY PUSSY, DADDY!"

The hair on my neck stood straight. WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE??

HER voice had dropped a full octave and I suddenly realized that SHE was a HE!!

A mental image of them filled my mind and I couldn't help it-my prick became hard as a rock.

Mr. Hanson had a boy living upstairs from me who dressed in women's panties, and talked like a girl! I couldn't believe I was aroused by such depravity-I couldn't believe Mr. Hanson's own kinky depravity.

For a while, all I could hear was groaning and small exclamations of pleasure interrupted by a sharp SMACK to the boy's buttocks. By the sound of his 'normal' voice, I guessed the boy to be close to my age, and as his moans grew louder, I figured this was a game they played quite often.

Clear as a bell I heard Mr. Hanson ask the boy: "Are you ready to ride my cock, Sweetie? Are you going to give Daddy a good fuck tonight?"

"OH GOD YES, DADDY-PLEASE LET ME RIDE YOUR COCK-PLEEEEEZZZZZZZ..."

Feeling ashamed of my lack of will-power, I threw off my robe and lay full-length on the sofa. I felt the wetness on the front of my briefs as I wriggled my hips and pushed them to my knees.

I couldn't believe how hard my prick had become listening to Mr. Hanson and his boy. I'd never felt dirtier in my life as I stroked my erection and strained to hear the sex action from upstairs.

I didn't know why I was so excited. All I knew for sure was I needed to cum and that when I did-it would be fantastic!

"You know how I like it, Sweetie-face forward and sit on my cock!"

"YES DADDY..."

I heard a floorboard creak; the boy must have been positioning himself above Mr. Hanson's cock. The boy began a continuous stream of moans and groans.

"uuunnnnngggghhhhh-OHHHHHHHH-AAAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH..."

I knew those noises-I knew exactly what he was doing.

He had a firm grip on Mr. Hanson's erection and placed the cockhead against his anus then slowly lowered himself until every inch of the older man's cock was stuffed inside his asshole.

Chills of delight coursed over my shivering flesh as my imagination took hold of me and I pictured impaling myself on Denny's wonderful cock.

I coated my middle finger with saliva and pressed it to my anus. I massaged the opening and ran it back and forth over my perineum.

The boy's groans grew louder and louder, and I suddenly, almost brutally, thrust my finger thru the rubbery opening of my anus and buried it deep inside my asshole.

"OOOHHHHHHH..." I cried out before closing my mouth; aware that if I could hear them-they could hear me.

I finger-fucked my asshole in time with Mr. Hanson's sodomy of the boy; I could almost feel myself sliding up and down Denny's magnificent cock; his hot, hard flesh stretching the narrow walls of my rectum.

The shouts of pleasure and delight from upstairs grew louder and I knew they were straining to climax. I frantically finger-fucked myself; my hand moving faster and harder on my turgid and pulsating prick.

When they reached orgasm, their screams and cries of pleasure quickened my own climax. With one final and brutal thrust of my finger into my asshole, the cum shot straight out of my balls up thru my throbbing prick.

"OH-GOD!!" I cried out. "OOHHHHH-GODDDDDDDD-OHHHHH-DENNNNYYYYYYYYYY..."

My hand moved swiftly up and down my cock coaxing every last drop of semen from my balls. My body thrashed wildly about the sofa; jets of cum squirted in all directions; I stifled my cries but knew damn well Mr. Hanson had probably already heard my orgasm.

I lay on the sofa wrapped in a warm afterglow feeling a strange mixture of satisfaction and remorse. I was certain the boy living upstairs was just as much a victim of Mr. Hanson as I was, and I regretted taking sexual satisfaction at his expense.

When my breathing returned to normal, I wiped the cum off wherever it lay, and ignored the voices from upstairs.

It was late and I was tired. I fell into bed feeling dirty and unclean; wondering how I could get excited and aroused from someone else's misfortune.

I was awakened from my daydream by the sounds of chairs scraping the floor, and students hurrying to the nearest exit. Professor Sheldon was finally finished; class was over.

My heart quickened as I moved with the purpose of a man on a mission. I WAS on a mission: I was going to see Denny.

I became aware of dampness on the front of my jeans; I'd leaked pre-cum just from remembering the previous night's activities. I held my briefcase ahead of me as I walked to the student cafeteria.

I found a vending machine that still contained sandwiches and assorted chips. I pulled a crisp ten dollar bill from my pocket and bought a turkey sandwich and a bag of plain chips; from the next machine I purchased a bottle of water.

Denny's and mine code referred to 'auto-mat-ic'. He had told me a story how his grandparent's had met in New York City after WW II in an 'automat'—a place much like this where people bought food from machines.

I left the building and saw Denny sitting at our 'usual' bench. It was a cold but sunny day, no one else was eating outside; we would be guaranteed privacy.

His face lit up when he saw me approaching him. His wide grin brought a smile to my own lips. I sat next to him; I didn't care if anyone saw us.

"Hi there, cutie, come here often?" he playfully said.

"Are you coming-on to me, sir?" I asked with feigned outrage. "My boyfriend would take offense at your impudence towards me!"

"I wouldn't blame him!" Denny replied before we both laughed heartily.

I saw the burning hunger and passion in his eyes and I knew he could sense the same from me.

"Life's sure gotten out of control, hasn't it?" he said.

I sighed and nodded.

"I came looking for you yesterday," said Denny. "Someone told me you moved...I heard you're not a tutor anymore...did that asshole Hanson have something to do with this?"

I nodded my head as I fought back tears. I coughed and cleared my throat.

"I have a basement apartment not far from here, and a new job I start tonight...it's in the computer field, and it's only two blocks from where I live—I'll be able to walk there."

We ate in silence for a while then I asked: "How are you? How do you feel? When is this craziness going to end?"

A rueful smile spread across his mouth as he answered, "I don't know, but we'll survive."

"I'm scared for you," I suddenly blurted out.

He ran his hand up and down my back to comfort me. His eyes searched warily all around us for lurking spies. He quickly removed his hand.

I knew he was gripped with the same fear and paranoia as I was; a heavy sadness overwhelmed me.

"When do you leave for Nebraska?" I asked. The team's last regular season game was Saturday. For the most part, I just wanted to change the subject.

"Friday morning," he answered. "Coach wants us all to have Thanksgiving dinner together Thursday afternoon..."

"That'll be nice..." I said.

He talked about an old movie he'd watched last night that he loved. It was one of my favorites, too. Our mood lightened as we made small talk. Anything was better than our current reality.

"Todd offered to lend me his van Wednesday night...maybe we could get together and do something..." he said; his voice sounded shy.

I smiled. I was pretty sure I knew what he meant by 'do something.'

"The hours at my new job are supposed to be from 6 to 10...would after 10 be too late for you?" I asked.

"No, not if it means I'll get to be with you," he said.

My heart melted with his words. That was the sweetest thing I'd ever heard.

We finished our lunch and made arrangements for Wednesday night.

Before we parted, I wanted to hold him close and feel his strong arms around me. That was impossible - there could be spying eyes hiding in the bushes watching us - how sad.

We said our goodbye's like two casual acquaintances; my heart was heavy with longing for his touch.

As soon as I opened the door to my apartment I knew something was wrong. The light directly above the massage table illuminated the room. I knew the 'ogre from hell' was skulking in the shadows. My stomach began to churn.

I heard him before I saw him.

"It's about time you got home, boy!" he said, not hiding his anger at having to wait for me.

He was sitting on the sofa, and to my horror, I saw he was wearing my bathrobe.

I'm getting a new one as soon as possible, I told myself.

The television was on and the flickering images on his face made him look even more evil.

"C'mere boy, I want to show you something!"

It was not a request. I went to the sofa then turned and faced the screen.

OH MY GOD - HOW IN THE HELL?

Clear as day, there I was on screen, laying on the sofa masturbating. Not only that, but I had a finger buried deep in my ass and I was unashamedly fucking myself with it.

"Keep quiet, boy - here's my favorite part," he said as he clicked the volume button on the remote control.

"OH-GOD-OOHHHHH-GODDDDDDDD-OHHHHH-DENNNNYYYYYYYYYY..."

Shame—guilt—humiliation!! I stood with my head hung low. Somewhere in my apartment there was a camera, probably more than one. This bastard thought of everything.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mr. Hansen's hand fondling his hard prick thru the fabric of my bathrobe.

I'd never felt so dirty in my life. I was certain his intent was to destroy my self-esteem and confidence and subjugate me to his whims and perverted desires.

I was prepared to submit my body to him, but I would never let him penetrate my mind.

"Wouldn't this be a lovely video for your parent's to watch? Imagine your dad finding this on the doorstep on Thanksgiving...your nice little family sitting around watching football, then he pops this tape in and he and your mom can see firsthand how their baby boy enjoys himself..."

His same old blackmail threat. Tears welled in my eyes as I stood frozen in place waiting for instructions.

"You be a good little boy and do as I say, and no one will ever see this video, or the sex tapes with your boyfriends...it's getting late and watching this has made me hornier than a goat...get your clothes off—strip-off your little panties, too—I want you naked when you service me!"

I'd already told him I wore bikini briefs, not panties, but there was no point in arguing with him. There was only two hours before I had to be at my new job, and I wanted him out of here as fast as possible.

The fat bastard struggled as he rose from the sofa. I wanted to laugh at him but thought better of it.

When he pushed the bathrobe off his shoulders and it fell to the floor, he stood there with an erection, patting his fat belly.

"You like my dicky-do, boy?" he smiled.

I had no idea what he was talking about. It must have shown on my face.

He patted his fat stomach and said, "It sticks out farther than my dicky-do!"

His chubby jowls shook as he laughed.

What on earth is so funny? I wondered.

He went to the massage table, and with some effort, he climbed onto it and lie on his back.

I was hoping his tremendous weight would be too much for the table and force it to collapse, but no such luck, the table was designed to support a great amount of weight and it did.

"Open the legs of the table and stand between them!" he ordered.

I maneuvered the legs as he wished. He handed me a bottle of lotion that was on the stand next to the table. I'd never seen it before. He had to have placed it there when he came.

"We don't have much time today...just squirt some of this on my chest and belly and start massaging me, boy."

I refuse to write in great detail regarding my 'sessions' with Mr. Hanson. I do not want to dwell on these experiences, and believe me, dear readers, neither do you.

Suffice it to say, after massaging his flabby flesh for longer than I cared, he had me rub lotion onto his scrotum and hard prick.

It took less than a minute of massaging his nether regions before he commanded me to "SUCK IT—AND MAKE IT GOOD!"

My mindset was simple: the better I sucked his cock the sooner he would climax and it would be over and done with and he would be gone.

I wet my lips and slid them over his cockhead and went to work. It bothered me when my own prick became hard. I briefly wondered what was wrong with me.

I fantasized I was sucking Denny's longer and thicker cock. I used my hands and mouth expertly; utilizing the skills and talents I'd developed the past couple of years.

His roly-poly body began gyrating on the table; he was getting very close. I had an idea. My middle finger was already well-coated with oil and I lightly rubbed his anus.

When his body stiffened, and his face contorted into the ugliest 'O' face I'd ever seen, I pushed my finger all the way into his asshole.

He screamed and thrashed about on the table like a fish out of water. I thought he was going to roll off the table and fall to the floor. It was difficult keeping his cockhead in my mouth as it exploded and shot load after load of his nasty jism careening off the back of my mouth and down my throat.

I'd never seen or heard a man have an orgasm quite like Mr. Hanson's. If it was Denny on the table, I would have been absolutely glowing with pride that I could elicit such a mind-blowing climax, but since it was the fat bastard laying there, I felt only relief that it was over.

When his breathing allowed him to, he shouted at me: "YOU LITTLE COCKSUCKER—DON'T EVER USE YOUR FINGER 'DOWN THERE' AGAIN-I'M NOT A FAGGOT, BOY..."

That was, perhaps, the most bizarre comment I'd ever heard in my life.

He climbed off the table, and saw my erection and sneered at me.

"You're a cock-slut, aren't you queer-boy? As much as you hate me you still got a hard-on having my prick in your mouth..."

My face reddened. I had no comeback; I couldn't refute his claim.

He suddenly grabbed my erection and said, "Follow me, boy!"

He walked quickly to the bathroom pulling my prick along with him.