The Dreamer Ch. 02

I stood dumb, not knowing what to do next; my eyes were riveted on the large shape against his stomach. Without saying a word his left hand grasped the remaining strap on his shoulder and began pulling it off his body. Slightly turning his body away, he pulled the fabric down his torso. When he reached his waist, he needed both hands to push the bunched, clinging fabric out, and down across his hips. He wasn't wearing an athletic supporter. He only had to step lightly out of the singlet to stand naked in front of me. Strutting out and upward from his body, his rigid penis jerked slightly.

Our eyes met briefly and in his I saw questioning change to longing. I looked downward at the hard cock standing like a pole from his body. Sweat remained on his chest, stomach, hips, and thighs, causing ringlets among his dark patch of pubic hair.

I thought to myself, "Leave, oh leave now." But even as I protested, my knees began to bend forward, and I felt myself lowering in front of him. His cock was right before my face. With my hand, I gently took the cock and guided it towards my mouth. It was so stiff I had to press downward. My lips opened, and my tongue darted and licked the sweet bubble of youthful pre-cum that had formed on the purple tip.

I felt him shudder from my touch. "Oh," he moaned. Quickly I leaned forward and closed my mouth firmly around his cock. He then let out a yelp before his knees buckled. He leaned backward, bracing himself with his hand, and lay back on the floor tiles. Waving his hand impotently in the air he whispered, "Oh, Mr. Warren, please don't. I can't..." I heard his pleading voice trail into silence. Hungrily I gulped on his cock, not slowly, but like a starving creature. He cried, he moaned, his hips gyrated beneath me.

His whimpered cries were high and loud, like a distressed puppy. Forcefully I moved my mouth up and down his swollen shaft. I could feel the bulging veins against my tongue and inside my cheeks. My hands pressed down on his hips as I plunged his cock deep within my throat and buried my nose and mouth into his thick, sweaty pubic hair.

Unzipping my trousers, I pulled my own hard member through the opening and began rapidly stroking myself as I sucked on his. Back and forth my arm drove in sync as my mouth plunged back and forth on his pole. I became oblivious to the room and the situation.

After a while he began to yell. His cock jerked in my mouth. Then there was a sudden, hard spray against the roof of my mouth. With each spray he cried out loud. I withdrew my mouth and plunged again and was rewarded by another hot spray of his acidic cum. The salty, pungent flavor filled my head. My nostrils were flooded with the smell of him. I began to swallow and yet another stream filled my mouth in time for me to feel jolts of fluid through my own cock. Then, just as urgently as it all began, his body instantly grew slack beneath me as the last of my own cum squirted over one of his extended legs and onto the floor.

He continued to twitch in front of me with his legs spread open and his arms thrown across his face. I felt his cock begin to soften, but still continued to suck, only more gently. With each pressure he moaned. Over what seemed an eternity, our breathing slowed. Then I finished.

Opening my mouth I watched as his swollen, dark pink cock fell back across the nest of dark hair covering his stomach and groin. Using my hands, I pushed up and rose, standing above him. My own now limp cock hung through the open zipper of my trousers.

He made no effort to move. His naked body was spread out on the floor in front of me. His expression contained a look of bewilderment and confusion. The clear green eyes appeared uncertain and darted between me and the ceiling. He must need me to explain what just happened between us, but I couldn't. I just stood looking at him unable to speak. I saw that drops of my white cum had begun to streak across his muscled thigh. After a while, he started to avoid my gaze as the thin stream of a single tear trickled down over his cheek.

Silently I stepped across him to leave the room, zipping up as I moved. Down the hall, on the right, I saw an exit leading outside and left the building. I ran to my car and, once it started, began to drive mindlessly away from the school.

I was a basket case. All concentration failed me and by the afternoon I had felt ill. I continued to drive around town aimlessly. In the light afternoon traffic panic began grew inside me. What I had done? I was losing control, becoming someone I couldn't even imagine a few days ago. I began to weep.

The stinging of my tears caused the roadway to blur. I blinked again and again, but was unable to clear my sight. It was necessary for me to pull off the road into a lot. Turning off the key, I began shaking, my face buried in my hands, tears forming like pools within my palms. "Oh God, what have I done?" I cried. That young man had been innocent, just as I had been that night at the lake. I had never imagined myself capable of such things. With each of my memories my actions seemed more and more repulsive.

"I will lose all control and do something that will send me to jail," I thought. I began to imagine the headlines, the shame I would bring to my family. Then I fumbled for my cell phone. "I need help," I said to myself dialing a familiar number, my fingers trembling.

"Holy Name Church," a calm voice spoke from the line. "Father Egan," I heard myself say. "Is Father Egan in, I must speak with him." A few moments passed until the low, comforting voice of Father Egan spoke through the ear piece. I heard myself blurt out my urgent need to see him. I spoke of my anxiety, agony and need. I prayed that I could count on Father Egan.

The sound of his reassuring voice somewhat quelled the hysteria I was feeling. I listened to him speak until he announced that he had to go, his afternoon was already filled with appointments, but could I come by tomorrow, after the noon mass? I replied, "Yes," and switched off the phone.

That afternoon and evening was spent in a state of desperate anxiety. My wife and I barely spoke over dinner. My son had come in later and was full of news about the wrestling match I had fled and the award ceremony to be held that next evening. I could hardly pay attention.