The Sand & the Keyhole Ch. 04: End

"My, immaculate dream, made breath and skin. I've been waiting for you." -Duran Duran

Chapter 4:

Anger. One could call it a negative emotion. But acting out on it, with the right person, with a willing man, could make a memory that lasted forever. I burned with anger. The angry fire fueled my lust. I would never forget that night.

The silence overwhelmed as I sat on the upper balcony of my cabin. I could only hear the random drip-drip of stubborn water droplets from the dense Wisconsin forest around the cabin. The torrential rain had ended an hour ago and the clouds continued moving west. The balcony looked east, off the glacial hills, down to a flat cow pasture. I could see the green on green of the grass field when the yellowish light of the dim moon would show through the opening clouds for a few moments at a time. There were no sounds from the cicadas at this hour. Even the dairy cows were sleeping in the small barn in the far distance. Juan was asleep on the couch, presumably still alive.

Murad had stabbed Juan with the syringe he'd had delivered from his police-friend. The Narcan was supposed to bring him back from the overdose of the Oxycontin he had snorted. An hour ago, I heard the scream through the lingering thunder of the storm as it traveled East towards Madison. I figured from the sound that Juan had survived. I imagined what it felt like for him - to come down, from perfection, from a moment of almost touching God - and then to have that euphoria ripped out of his hand with the overdose kit. It was a loss of self that I never wanted to experience. But fate had its own plans.

Juan would live another day. I was somewhat jealous of the abandon with which those young men lived their lives. I only watched. Watching, I could look when I wanted to, and look away when the consequences came. And the consequences came, and I left them. I sat outside as Murad did his doctoral magic to revive Juan. I hoped he lived so I didn't have to explain in court what had happened. But I stewed in anger that this whole day had seemed beyond my control. I was forced to deal with the negligence of other's drug-fueled sexual escapades. And I was still sexually unfulfilled alone outside. My consciousness seemed hazy from the Oxycontin I had taken. Its effects were wearing off, and the long intensity of the day had successfully melted away my general politeness. Now I just burned with anger. I didn't want to be only a narrator in someone else's story. I wanted again to have control, even if I sacrificed pleasure.

I could hear the back door open as Murad sheepishly exited the cabin. He joined me silently on the stained Adirondack chairs. He sat for a moment as I didn't look at him. His jeans were back on, but his shirt was off. The olive skin of his chest and back were covered in glistening sweat, like the rain still hanging on the trees. As he sat down, I could see he wasn't wearing underwear, so that I could see an inch at the top of his ass crack. I imagined he had hastily put his jeans on when he had gone out to the driveway to grab the overdose kit from his friend. His lips looked parched. I handed Murad the cold can of Cherry Coke I had prepared next to me on the small wooden table.

"I think he's going to be okay." Murad sighed deeply, exhaling hours of fear over what he had done.

"How could you trust those... those rednecks with your prescription pad..." I turned toward him with open anger. "What did you think was going to happen? You could have lost your license. I might have had to bail your ass out of jail."

"I fucked up," Murad said as he stared out down the long forested slope behind the cabin. "Sometimes I trust in people too much, that they will know what it is right." He took another sip.

"Well grow up," I said. "People like those two don't know what is best for them. We spent our lives getting an education and money so that we could stop trash like them from fucking it up for the rest of us."

He looked at me with his green eyes that were the same color of the cedar trees after a summer storm. "I just think there is a beauty in knowing that they can live their life the way that they want to, even if it's not the life we would live." He looked angry at himself. His fists were clenched so that I could see the muscles in his arm and shoulder bulging. "I admit I am jealous that they just live life everyday like it is their last, while we sit here and obsess over politics and finances and our houses and decorations. I don't like to say I'm envious, but I am. How nice would it be to not have to make decisions every moment of your day? How nice would it be not to have to live with the guilt and suffering, knowing that you could always help more? I can always do better. If I had better judgment I could have stopped them. What if I just lived in a camper and didn't make everyone else's problems my own? How nice would that be?"

"Nobody is stopping you," I snapped back him. "You have enough money to live however you want."

"Yeah, but after so much time of preparing for the future, it's hard to just let it all go and live in the present," he chugged the soda in several large greedy gulps. His face cringed as if he could taste something bitter at the bottom of the can. "I think the city has infected me. I don't know if I could ever go back to herding goats."

"You herded goats?" I asked him.

"I realize it's hard to believe, but I wasn't born a doctor," he laughed. "Not everyone from Dubai is the son of an oil baron. I wasn't anyway."

"Well," I said with genuine surprise. "You don't look like 'new money'." I knew that phrase bothered him.

"Sometimes appearances are necessary to be successful." He smacked his lips. "Sometimes all you need is to convince people that you are high class, and the world is given to you. It's just a question of what you are willing to give up along the way. And if you let yourself lose who you were."

I had never been good at math, but I had an hour on my own to read the label of the Oxycontin bottle that Murad had left on the table in front of the fire. I figured how many pills a large stocky Arab could handle without also being on the brink of death on the couch. It was risky, but I had little to lose. If the police came, I could say he took the pills himself. He had enough evidence against him. I had made certain to only touch the bottle with a paper towel, before pouring the last of the pills in the can of cherry coke.

He smiled back at me, and his eyes unnaturally widened. I wonder if he knew. I wonder if it's what he wanted. Was I just playing into his hands like usual? I often found myself wondering whether my own games were just part of his plan as well. At this point, I didn't care. I felt rage that I needed to release. I was tired of being someone's toy. Finally, I would turn the tables on him. He set down the empty can with a distinct clank.

His gaze rested on me a little too long. His irises were constricted so that his pupils were small and the emerald green seemed to cover his entire eyes. He leaned his head back and he sighed. His lips curled up subtly. His mind always seemed to be calculating, simulating all outcomes of a situation. His mind was like a emerald: cold, sharp, and brilliant. Now, for once, he has a look I hadn't seen before, one of being genuinely relaxed. It was a difficult thing for a man like him who felt as if he had to carry the burden of the world on his shoulders. His conceit made him feel like everything revolved around him, including everyone else's actions. It took a certain humility to admit that there was suffering in the world that Murad could not cure on his own. What he needed was someone to forcibly show him what it was like to be without power, if just for a moment.

"I think you need to relax some," I said, beginning my unbalanced seduction. "You've been through a lot today. You've done all you can do. It's all in God's hands now or whoever it is you believe in."

He sighed. "Muslims believe in the same god as..." he went off on some diatribe about the technicalities of religion as I walked behind him in the chair. We both now stared into the East, toward the clouded blood moon and the hidden morning sun. As he spoke, I got up and walked behind him. I put my hands on his broad muscular shoulders and began massaging the tension out of them. He pretended to ignore me as he continued to talk about god-knows-what.

I massaged his scalp behind the ears, and he let out a subtle moan of relief. "Thank you," he said genuinely and then continued on. He spoke about the trinity being representative of higher cognitive processes and sometimes I would mouth an uh-huh to pretend like I cared what he was talking about. His words slurred together more as I found the pressure points on his jawline with my thumbs. As I pushed in, sometimes he would give out an involuntary sigh. It gave me deep sexual pleasure to hear him verbalize from the mix of pain and pleasure that I gave him. I imagined he would make the same noises louder and deeper, as I pressed myself into his body. They would get louder and less inhibited as I raped his furry, conceited ass. His body needed to feel the hard rod of a man inside it in order to relax and give up his worries. He just had too much pride to admit what he wanted. I would give it to him.

I worked my hands down the edges of his large shoulder blades, holding my thumbs against the tense muscles for a few seconds until they released. I was working slowly on his exterior as the drugs worked on his insides. His mind would be helpless soon. I imagined I could feel the drugs flowing through his bloodstream - to his brain, to his ass, to his cock. Soon, he'd be too happy to put up defenses against me. He could finally be free to admit how much he needed me and how much he always wanted me. My hands skillfully made their way around the outer line of his shoulder blade and ever so subtly toward his nipples.

"Murad?" I asked him after several minutes of staring down the large forested hill toward the moonlit pastures in the distance.

"Huh?" he asked in a way that said his mind had gone to a far distant place. "Sorry," he said, "I'm starting to drift off. Today, has been so..." he didn't finish his sentence, and I noticed a small drop of spit falling on his thick beard. I reached around and wiped it from his mouth. "Thank. You," he was able to mutter without a hint of resistance. I knew now he was mine. I had won. Finally. After all of these years, he was mine to pleasure, to dominate, to take his body as part of my own. I felt such deep euphoria at seeing the helpless alpha sitting beneath me, waiting to be used as I wanted.

Without giving him time to resist, my fingers worked their way to his nipples. He didn't fight me. I knew then, that there was no turning back. My hands felt his strong, broad chest as my fingers crept up by the sensitive part of his neck to his drooling face. I wiped the spit from his mouth as I gently caressed his lips. He moaned again, but this time it was from pleasure. The fear was gone. He looked, for once, happy.

"Did you? Did you?" he tried to ask. He knew now I had drugged him, but his cognition had been short-circuited by the feeling of pleasure coming from all sides. Even if he realized it now, it was too late for him to fight back. Now he was in that dimension where all the body wanted was pleasure. The desire for pleasure was too intense for him to fight back against someone who wanted to please him as much as I did. The moon broke free from the clouds, and I could see his olive skin and his hazel eyes. I saw he had dark, sensual clouds under his eyelids as I craned my neck around him to kiss his large, soft beard. I savored the bristly feeling against my lips.

He didn't resist. He couldn't resist. I tasted the hairs of his mustache with my tongue. I burrowed my tongue down to the soft skin of his cheek. As I felt his flesh beneath the beard, it felt as if our bodies were connected. We were one person, without boundaries, seeping into one another. I reached my other arm around his body and gently held his chin. I moved his confused lips toward mine. There, our lips finally touched for the first time. My tongue worked its way into his mouth so that I could feel his tongue against mine. It seemed so natural. This was the way things were meant to be. When I had built this balcony, I had imagined him being happy sitting there, being grateful for all of the things I did for him. And now, finally, after years of work, I managed to break him down enough, to give his body what it always craved. I would release all of his inner inhibitions, just as he had tried to release mine. It was only fair.

The stress from the day had broken him down. Murad rarely made mistakes and when he did, he felt so much guilt, and the guilt made him vulnerable. He thought of himself as a good person and to question his ethics was a dangerous affair. The drugs and the late night helped destroy his last defenses. I walked in front of him, so that my crotch was at the same level of his distant stare. I looked at him in the eyes as I sat down and straddled myself on his lap. From this position, I could kiss him face to face. I could penetrate my tongue deeper and taste his sweet spit. I could feel the thick bush of his beard against my face. It smelled like everything I imagined. I could smell cloves and smoke and cedar. I could taste the subtle flavor of the boy's ass he had tongued. I could taste regret and anger and fear with my stolen kiss.

I knew he felt a great amount of guilt about Juan, recovering from his drug overdose in the den. Murad had too much empathy. His week would be ruined from the weight of the guilt he held, knowing he may have hurt someone. I wanted to release him from the burden of that guilt and fear. I, too, knew the feeling of regret. I had won many cases. Sometimes I was talented enough to get a client off for domestic abuse or worse. Sometimes they might even do it again. But that was the life of a lawyer. Too much empathy would tear anyone apart. We had to focus on the pleasure of the moment. At least that is what Murad had often told me.

As I kissed him, I slowly rubbed my well-sculpted ass against his crotch. I knew he had gotten off several hours earlier, but knowing Murad, a single orgasm would just whet his appetite. Getting off in a boy's ass only gave him the taste for more and more. He was like a happy Satyr who had the perfect type of pleasure - it felt perfect and left you wanting more. I smiled as I could feel my rubbing stimulate his body. I pushed my ass harder against his crotch, until I could feel movement in his pants. I licked his tongue and his lips and then worked my way down to the side of his neck. I licked with long, wet strokes on the erogenous zone behind his chin hair. As a sign of acceptance, he leaned his head back and now stared up at the stars. The clouds had now moved, and we could see the Milky Way. As each star appeared from behind the clearing clouds, they reflected off his distant, beautiful eyes. I could even see the red hue of Mars in his gaze. His mind seemed transfixed by their glitter as I worked my tongue down to work his exposed nipples. He let out a sincerely genuine cry of pleasure as I circled them each with my tongue. I alternated from one to the other, until they became hard, and tears of pleasure filled his eyelids and almost dripped down on his long dark eyelashes.

I wondered for a moment how far away he had really gone. Were the drugs that strong or was it just an excuse for him to feel pleasure with a long-time friend without having to admit to it? Was it a mix of the two?

His mind was still conscious as he stared at the crystalline spheres of planets rotating above his head. I worked my lips down and unbuttoned his tight jeans. Despite his brain floating in space, his dick still was fully aware of its time and place. It stood erect as I pulled his pants apart. He had no underwear to prevent it from popping to full attention. As I opened his button fly, his cock was already covered with a thick drop of precum. I greedily caught it with my tongue as it was dripping down the shaft. I didn't want it to be wasted. It tasted sweet and salty, and I felt warm and fulfilled as I swallowed it into my own body. His disembodied mind floated freely in the heavens as I held complete dominion over his body.

When I was done licking the fluid from the tip, I made my way down slowly of the thick shaft. I had the time to feel each sinew and crevice as my tongue made its way to his large hairy scrotum. I felt around where the erect member attached to two large balls. I wrapped my lip around each ball, caressing every inch of its surface with my mouth. I pulled his jeans down below his knees with my hands, as I took both testicles in my mouth at once and felt the gap between them with my tongue. He moaned and began to mutter, but the words were soft, distant, and incoherent. I could tell by his soft, bright tones that he was smiling. It made me feel like this was what I was meant to do.

I pushed his hairy thighs apart so that I could lick the area where his ball sack met his muscled flesh between his cheeks. As my tongue touched his taint, he groaned louder amidst his incoherent mumbles. The more I tasted, the more of his body I wanted to feel, until I wanted nothing more than for the surface of our skin to be pressed against one another. Now his only piece of clothing, a pair of jeans around his ankles, were the last distraction between us. I quickly pulled them off and threw them into a ball against the sliding glass door to the house. I spread his muscled legs wide apart, so that he was now, just a naked man, outside, a body for me to use however I liked.

I placed one of his knees on the wooden arm of the Adirondack chair, followed by the other, so that his ass opened wide to me. I stared at the dark curly hair on his ass cheeks and the crack in between. I pulled his butt closer to me so that I could see his tight hole surrounded by a tuft of hair. I could only stare for a few moments before my body seemed to be hijacked by its own desire to taste him. I plunged my tongue into his hole. This time he groaned so loud that it echoed back to us, deep and distorted. I imagined the cows in the distance hearing his low moans. I licked his hole in all directions. I circled it. I pushed my tongue deep into it to moisten it. The more I worked, the more I could feel it open up to me. I spit the few pieces of hair in my mouth and continued worshipping his ass, splayed wide, as his feet dangled on each side of the arm chair. It looked as if he was drugged in an outdoor sling with no one around to see but me and the stars above us.

"Murad?" I asked and reached my hand out to grasp on to his long beard.

Somewhere in the distance he could hear me, but his answer was too garbled by the distance to reach me. I took the answer as consent, as I unzipped my own pants. My cock was longer and thinner than his own. It would be a perfect fit for his tight, unused hole. It was now glistening from precum in the moonlight. I leaned over his splayed body and dripped a thick wad of spit onto his exposed hole. You've been wanting this forever. Now take it.

I approached him and felt for his tight hole with my left hand. I held my rock-hard cock in my right and pushed it flush against the hole. He didn't resist as I pushed my oozing tip inside his body. I felt its warmth envelop me as if I felt warmth over every inch of my skin, despite being in the cool night air of the Wisconsin forest. Instead of clenching, he spread himself further. "That's right," I said to the mumbling fool. "Just let yourself relax. You'll enjoy it." And his hole relaxed, almost pulling my cock inside of him. I spit a second time after my tip was further in, to make sure it was well lubed, and then I pulled his hairy thighs toward me and pushed my cock deep inside him as my filled balls finally came flush against his skin. He gave a deep moan among his incoherent syllables. It was so strong and deep, that I could feel the vibration transferred to my own body. It made my dick twitch, and I began to thrust inside his helpless asshole.