Dirty Little Secret Ch. 04

"'Happy Thanksgiving,' I said to him with a grin on my face. We wouldn't see each other again until Monday.

He smiled and said, "Same to you ...take good care of your boyfriend's giblets tonight, okay?"

I laughed and watched him walk until he disappeared into the darkness.

It was then I realized how much I cared for Tim; that I would do anything to try and help extricate him from the clutches of Mr. Hanson.

I told myself that on Monday, I would begin to examine our predicament logically.

Emotional thinking hadn't solved the problem. I'll use the scientific method. I'll arrange all the pieces of the puzzle on a blank easel in my mind, and move and re-arrange the jagged pieces until they come together and form a clear picture.

I'd always known I could do that, but I never thought about the real-life applications.

I walked about fifty-yards when I saw a van parked alongside the curb. In the darkness I couldn't determine its color. When I was close enough I heard the engine running then saw a long, thick stripe on the side-paneling.

An adrenaline rush surged thru my body as I opened the door and pulled myself up into the front seat. His smiling face was the first thing I saw.

"I've missed you," he said, even though we'd eaten lunch together the past two days.

"Me too," I said. "Life isn't fair..."

He drove off. His eyes were on the road while mine were on him. There was something about him...his face seemed older, his body tense. It was clear the nut-jobs who'd been protesting against him had taken their toll on him.

I vowed to make this a night he would remember for a long time.

Little was said between us. The longing we felt for one another was palpable; the air inside the van was thick with anticipation. I knew he felt the same as me: we couldn't wait to be naked in each other's arms.

Something brushed the back of my head and it startled me. My neck whipped around and I saw a curtain hanging, separating the cab of the van from the back.

"Wait til you see what Todd has back there..." Denny said with a chuckle.

We rode a few more minutes in silence then Denny said, "Lane left for Kentucky tonight."

It was the first time I'd heard his name mentioned in quite a while. I thought about him most every day.

"Oh," I replied. "Good for him...he should be with his family on Thanksgiving."

More silence.

Then Denny said, "He told me to tell you he's sorry."

"Why would he say that?" I asked. "None of this is his fault."

"No, that's not what he means..."

I looked at Denny with a puzzled expression and asked, "What is he sorry for?"

After a brief hesitation, Denny said, "He's getting married on Saturday."

Stunned silence—married? How could this be? To whom?

Denny continued, "He's marrying his high school sweetheart, Amy...I think he's paranoid about the Olympics...the host country has been sending out some pretty strong anti-gay propaganda lately."

I understood. This was extreme, but I knew Lane would do anything to protect his dirty little secret.

My heart went out to him. In all our encounters he never once mentioned a girlfriend, and now he was going to marry her?

I was sure he didn't love her; he was going to marry someone to put an end to the gossip and rumors and try to bury his secret forever.

"Are you alright?" Denny asked softly.

No, I wasn't alright, but I didn't tell Denny. I was enveloped by a crushing sadness that Lane had to resort to a sham marriage because he was so ashamed of his feelings for men.

Lane and I had been very close, but we had used one another more for moral support and sex. We'd both known all along our relationship was not about love.

I turned to Denny and with a sad smile on my face asked: "You don't have a high school sweetheart waiting for you somewhere, do you?"

He chuckled and said, "No, in high school the girls gave me a lot of 'sweet treats', but no one ever won my heart...until I met you."

My eyes misted-over and my heart soared with the eagles.

"I love you, too," I said softly.

Denny drove into a secluded, wooded area and when I saw a lake shimmering in the moonlight I knew where we were. Theresa and I came here to play and experiment with each other's bodies. This was an ideal lover's paradise, and tonight there were no other cars to be seen. I guessed most people were preparing for Thanksgiving.

"Sir, what are your intentions?" I asked in mock indignation. "Is this 'put-out' or 'get-out' time? I suppose if I don't satisfy your animal-lust I will be forced to walk home from here?"

Denny laughed and leaned over and kissed me on the lips. He reached back and pushed open the curtains. In the back of the van, illuminated in brilliant moonlight, I saw a mattress on the floor.

"Any objections, pretty-boy?" he asked teasingly.

"Well, sir," I replied. "I will NOT be walking home from here tonight."

The console between us made it awkward but we embraced and kissed. Our kisses grew warm and urgent. He pushed his tongue into my mouth and I greedily sucked at it.

My hand found his muscular thigh and I gently stroked and kneaded the flesh thru his jeans. I boldly placed my hand on his crotch and found him already hard. I ran the palm of my hand slowly over his long, hard cock. He groaned into my mouth.

I broke off the kiss and flicked my head in the direction of the mattress and whispered, "I want to be with you back there."

The warmth of his smile made the chill in the air disappear.

A blaring car horn shook me from my reverie. I was going thru an intersection underneath a hanging red light and I heard the car on my left slam on his brakes, his tires squealing angrily.

"Sorry," I said out loud even though he couldn't hear me.

I sheepishly waved and shrugged my shoulders then proceeded thru the intersection. I looked around for the police but saw none and continued on the way to my parent's house.

My mind had drifted back in time and re-played every sweet detail of the night before—the sweet night of lovemaking with Denny.

We had moved to the back of the van onto the mattress and quickly shed our clothes. We both felt an urgency; an overwhelming need for intimacy, to revel in one another's flesh.

We lay side-by-side, kissing, stroking, fondling each other. Denny's sexual generosity was one more reason I loved him. He didn't lay back and expect to be serviced, no, he was an eager and active participant.

Finally I couldn't take any more. I pushed him onto his back and knelt between his open legs. I teased his rigid and pulsating prick for a few seconds before I slid my moistened lips over the plum-sized head and slowly pushed my face lower and lower until I'd taken as much of his hardness into my mouth that was possible.

Normally, I would have sucked his cock slowly, letting my tongue lather every inch of his flesh, giving him prolonged pleasure. But I knew by his grunting and heavy breathing and the movement of his hips that his orgasm was already close.

I sucked him with wild abandon moving my head rapidly up-and-down his wonderfully hot and expanding flesh. My hand moved quickly on his shaft and I massaged his heavy, cum-filled balls.

When his body stiffened and he cried out, I flattened my tongue over his slit and lapped-up his discharge. I must have swallowed five or six mouthfuls of his creamy elixir before his wildly bucking body came to rest.

I kept him in my mouth until his penis was flaccid then my tongue went to work cleaning whatever semen had escaped.

I crawled upwards and lay on his body. His heart was pounding against my chest. He held me tight. I kissed his forehead but he wanted more. He pulled my head to his and kissed my lips. His tongue searched out mine.

I was thrilled he was the kind of man who wasn't afraid to taste his own juices.

He shifted our position so he could have access to my prick. He took it in his hand and stroked it wonderfully until I too climaxed. I'd forgotten how fantastic it felt for someone other than me to masturbate my prick to orgasm.

The big red sign to the supermarket where my mother shopped suddenly caught my eye. On impulse, I decided to stop.

I walked directly to the liquor department and found the brand of Cabernet my mother liked, and took two bottles to the checkout stand. I looked around and didn't see anyone I knew.

A girl in her early twenties looked first at the wine then at me with a 'Are you kidding me?' expression on her chubby face. I fished out the fake i.d. Donny had made for me and paid for the wine.

When I eased myself back into the car there was still a lingering, delicious-aching sensation in my rectum. It wasn't painful; frankly, I liked it. The memory of Denny's long and thick cock sliding in-and-out of me was still fresh in my mind.

I chuckled to myself as I recalled Denny's amazement when I begged him to fuck me. He was on top of me between my wide-splayed thighs.

"It's too big—I don't want to hurt you," he said.

"I'm ready for you—I took precautions—please...I want to feel you inside me."

When he pressed the bulbous head of his cock against my opening I heard him gasp.

"You're wet down there!" he said with surprise.

"I want you so badly I prepared myself earlier," I said in return.

I still had the lubricating dildo Donny had taught me how to use. Just before I'd left work earlier in the night, I'd gone to the bathroom and inserted it inside me. The oily substance would keep my passage wet and slippery for some time.

The only problem was leakage. I solved that by attaching a feminine maxi-pad down there to soak-up any oil that might escape my open hole.

I didn't give Denny the chance to ask questions or wonder about his discovery. I raised my legs up and over his back forcing more of his hard cock into my hole. I grimaced in pain and my head rolled side-to-side but I stayed quiet. It was too dark inside the van for him to see my obvious discomfort.

I grunted and groaned but finally locked my ankles together above his broad back and shoulders. He was all the way inside me; my hole was stretched wide like never before.

Lucky for me, Donny's cock had blazed a trail before Denny's. I knew from experience it was only a matter of time until the pain subsided, and I too, would feel the pleasure and joy of our lovemaking.

Above me, Denny held his breath. He was afraid to move a muscle. I knew he was waiting for me to respond, to signal everything was alright.

My own prick, which had gone limp during the searing pain of impalement, suddenly roared back to life. The sharp pain in my rectum was gone. All that remained was the pleasant sensation of being filled with my man's hard cock.

Soft mewling sounds escaped my lips; I threw my arms around Denny's shoulders then slowly lowered my hips until just the head of his cock was inside me. I took a deep breath and my legs worked hard using his back as leverage and pulled myself upwards forcing all of his cock inside me again.

Denny understood I was ready and gently fucked me until we found our rhythm. We exchanged soft sighs, gasps and exclamations of our mutual pleasure and love.

I was content to wait for the lust to build within Denny and maintained his pace allowing him to set the tempo. His hips would pull back and withdraw his hot steel pole to the very tip then my legs, wrapped tightly around his back, would pull his cock deep inside me.

I briefly wondered how many human bodies thru-out the world were locked together in similar embraces of passion and love.

Like breathing, eating and water, the lust and desire in all of us require humans seek release and satisfaction regardless of nationality, ethnicity and gender.

It amazed me to think that some humans believed this simple act was intended for procreation only; that fornication was a spiritual act between a man and a woman.

Yes, when the participants are deeply in love and care more for their partner than themselves, this can become a deeply personal and spiritual moment; and that is when it is best.

But to limit this act to one purpose, one goal, is to deny the existence of our God-given urges and needs, and our abilities to bring great pleasure and satisfaction to others.

Good God, I thought. I wish people would get off their sanctimonious mountain-tops and admit to themselves people like to fuck because it's in our genes, and it feels good. It's that simple!

"OH-GOD..." I cried out when Denny's velvety cockhead suddenly banged my prostate.

His hip-thrusts became quicker with more force. My legs tightened their grip on his back and I met his downward thrusts with violent bucking and jerking thrusts of my own impaling his hard cock deep inside me.

It was at this point my memory fades. My brain was a fog of pure lust and all that mattered was to feel his hot jism explode inside me.

Our grunting and groaning and panting were loud inside the van. We became lost in the fucking; we were the lust-crazed human beings Mother Nature intended us to be.

The friction of my hard prick rubbing against his belly on his every downward thrust was driving me insane with pleasure.

I opened myself completely to him. He was my man—I was his bitch-in-heat and I was proud to admit it. I was determined to meet his violent thrusts with my own.

Suddenly, and wonderfully, I felt his cock expand in my already stuffed back passage. My eyes bugged open—my nerve-endings exploded with delight-filled jolts of hot energy.

I heard his primal scream; his body stiffened and for a split-second he was quiet above me. Then all hell broke loose.

He dove hard into me to the hilt and shouted his pleasure. The tightly gripping walls of my asshole felt the cum rushing thru his cock.

His final thrust violently rammed my prostate and I was sent spiraling over-the-cliff. I screamed as my body wildly jerked and contorted as my own cum shot out of my prick in spasms of delight and ecstasy.

Our orgasms lasted forever. I was sure we frightened the curious animals gathered outside the van.

He collapsed on top of me. I felt the moisture on his flesh co-mingle with mine. We were sweating profusely in the cool night air. We fought for every breath; I held him tight.

He deftly reversed our positions and I was now on top of him. I covered his face in kisses. He squeezed me so tight I thought my ribs would burst.

In one of those rare and beautiful moments in life, we both said "I love you" at the same time. We laughed and kissed and clung to one another.

The next thing I remember was awakening to a chorus of singing birds and watching the sun rise over the shimmering blue waters of what is named 'Lovers Lake' while holding hands with my boyfriend.

"Hi, Mom," I said, smiling when she opened the front door. It had been a couple months and I was actually happy to see her.

"Did you lose your key?" she asked.

"Uhh, no..." I replied.

"You know I had to walk all the way from the kitchen to answer the door—God forbid your father could get out of his chair and do it," she scolded.

She saw the paper bag in my arms and peaked inside.

"Happy Thanksgiving!" I said still smiling, presenting her the paper bag.

"Wine? Are you drinking now? Are you boozing with your little college friends?" she asked in that smarmy voice of hers. "Where did you get these? You're not old enough to buy alcohol!"

"I-I ah...I had a friend of mine get them for me," I said, suddenly filled with memories of why I wanted to leave this house in the first place.

"Jesus H Christ, Mary-let the boy inside!" I heard my father say behind her.

She cradled the bag against her bosom. Her face softened and her mood seemed to abruptly change. Her free hand pulled my head towards hers and she kissed me on the cheek.

"Happy Thanksgiving, dear, I'm glad you're home," she said with the slightest of smiles then turned and returned to the kitchen.

My father thrust his hand forward and said, "Good to see you, son."

We shook hands then stood in awkward silence for a few seconds.

"Where's your bag?" he asked. "You packed a bag, didn't you?"

"Oh yeah," I said. "I'll go get them."

"Well, the games about to start—I'll be in my chair...you remember how to get to your room, don't you?"

I smiled and said, "Yes, dad, it hasn't been that long."

"It's been long enough, son," he said softly then turned away from me.

That was strange, I thought, as I retrieved my overnight bag and laptop case from the car. Did he just say that he missed me?

When I opened the closed door to my old bedroom I was hit with a faint but distinct odor. It was barely noticeable, but I knew it was the aroma of a thousand orgasms of months and years past.

I felt sheepishly embarrassed that I'd left behind such an odd legacy in my parent's house.

I set-up the laptop and checked my email. Nothing from Lane. I wasn't expecting to hear from him, but a message telling me about his wedding plans would have been nice.

Without bothering to unpack my clothes, I returned to the living room. The Lions kicked-off to the Packers just as I sat on the sofa next to my dad's recliner.

The Packers first drive was a three-and-out.

I asked my dad, "What's the spread on the game?"

"Packers by three," he answered.

"They're on the road in Detroit on Thanksgiving Day and they're favored?" I asked.

He seemed pleased with my sports betting knowledge. I don't think he was aware that I knew of his habit of betting on football games.

He went into a dissertation as to why the Packers shouldn't be favored. I had to admit his logic was sound.

"You took the Lions, huh?" I asked with a smile.

He looked at me with some surprise and said, "You're a sharp kid!"

We watched the first half in silence with occasional outbursts of "OH YES" and "WHAT A LOUSY PLAY" and "THESE REFS ARE TERRIBLE."

The Packers were leading at halftime by 14 - 10. When my dad went to the bathroom I pulled out my cell phone. I'd felt it vibrate in my pocket earlier, but knowing how my dad felt about emails and texting, I chose to wait until he was gone to look at it.

It was from Denny: "Had a wonderful night—and morning—I love u."

My heart leapt with joy. I didn't have much time so all I said in my reply was "ME 2."

When my dad returned he was carrying two bottles of beer. I was shocked, to say the least, when he gave me one of them.

"Don't tell your mother," he said with a wink.

"Not a word," I replied.

I wondered if he remembered that was his inside joke with my brother, and not me. It made me think about my brother's absence.

"Where's Jimmy? Is he coming today?" I asked.

My father grimaced and said, "We'll talk about it later."

"Oh—okay," I said. Uh-oh—what's up with that?

At a commercial-break mid-way thru the third quarter my father stood-up to get another beer.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

I showed him my bottle was still half-full.

He made a 'tsk-tsk' noise with his tongue and asked, "What kind of college kid are you?"

"The boring kind, I guess."

He shook his head and left the room.

I thought about Lane. My heart ached for him. I understood his predicament but I didn't like his solution.

God-damn him, I thought. He's going to live a lie the rest of his life to protect his dirty little secret? It's not right...

At the end of the third quarter I took the last swallow of my beer.

"Get me another one, too!" my father said even though I hadn't moved off the couch.

In the kitchen, my mother's 19-inch television was tuned into the parade from New York. She was busy making her wonderful deviled-eggs, and I saw an almost-empty wine glass to her right.

I uncorked the Cabernet that was sitting on the counter and filled her glass.

She seemed startled I was there.

"OH—umm, thank you, dear," she said.