Secrets 7

Now I felt his dick pressing up against mine. And even though I knew this was really happening, and even though I really wanted this to be happening, there was that feeling, somewhere in the back of my head, that maybe this shouldn’t be happening. Maybe I was making a mistake. Maybe the one thing I wanted more than anything in the world was the one thing I should’ve stayed far away from. The Patrick I had fallen in love with was beautiful, confidant, nice – a great human being. But the Patrick who had his tongue down my throat, the Patrick’s whose fingers were roughly squeezing my nipples, the Patrick’s whose warm, muscular, sweaty body was grinding against mine – this was a stranger to me; a beautiful stranger with my best friend’s face. 

“Put your hands on me,” Patrick said.

I placed my hands on his back and squeezed. His skin felt so warm and smooth. I felt the hard muscle beneath his skin. I wanted to be in love with him like I had been when we first did this. I wanted to feel the way I felt then, before Danny had shot himself in the head, before Patrick started lying to me. I slid my hands lower down his back, over the arch of his lower back, and my fingers hooked into the inside of the elastic band of his Calvin Klein briefs. It had only been a week ago that I had dreamed about putting my fingers into Patrick’s underwear, wishing to touch the hard, tight skin beneath, wanting to slide my finger into his ass crack. Now I was doing that. I dug my hands into the back of Patrick’s underwear and squeezed his ass hard. He groaned in my mouth. I didn’t know if that was a real moan, or if he thought that was what I wanted to hear. I couldn’t tell anymore with Patrick. I hoped it was a real moan. 

I pulled Patrick’s underwear over the sharp curve of his ass, until they were around his hamstrings. His naked dick touched mine. He started to grind himself harder and faster against me as he kissed me with a wild passion, which was as enticing as it was a bit frightening. It in that moment that I realized how much physically stronger Patrick was than me. He could do whatever he wanted with me. I didn’t know if I would be able to do whatever I want with him. I rubbed his small, tight asshole as he licked my Adam’s apple. I licked my finger afterward, and it tasted like soap. Patrick had taken a shower earlier, and he was clean, while my ass was probably sweaty and non-soapy. Patrick sucked my nipples and I groaned out loud and curled my toes. With one of his hands, he grabbed my dick and started to stroke it softly. He was doing all of these great things to my body, but I was still wondering if this was what he really wanted to be doing right now. Was he fucking me because he wanted to, or because he thought it was the only way for me to believe in him? I wanted to believe in him, but at the same time I wanted to be smart. 

Patrick continued to lick down the middle of my chest, stopping for a brief moment to lick my navel, and then continuing downward. His hand roamed between my thighs, cupping my balls, which I knew were sweaty and smelled musty. He squeezed them gently, rubbing them like they were something important and valuable to him. He sniffed my pubic hair, and then his face was next to my dick. Patrick looked into my eyes as his bottom lip grazed the tip of my dick head. He kissed the tip gently, and at that moment I thought I was going to melt like wax. 

Without warning, Patrick engulfed my dick whole, and I felt the back of his throat, and if felt slimy and wet, and real. I wanted to stay inside of his mouth forever. His fingers were still massaging my wet nipples as he slowly started to move up and down my dick with his talented lips. Patrick had done this many times before, I could tell. He was too much of an expert. He knew too well how to make my inner thighs quiver, my balls bounce, and my whole body feel as though I had just been shocked with jolts of power electricity. I was beginning to think this was a game to him. It was probably fun for him to watch me twist and groan in all this pleasure. 

He licked my balls and raised my leg up in the air, so that the soles of my feet were pointed toward the ceiling. Patrick looked at my asshole and smiled. A part of me felt embarrassed for some reason. I wanted to know what he was thinking when he saw my asshole. I felt like a little child. Patrick lowered his face to my ass, and I gasped when I felt the sharp, wet tip of his tongue slide into my butt crack. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to relax. Patrick mashed his face deeper into my ass and started to lick around violently, tornado lashes that made me feel like I was gonna spontaneously combust. I opened my eyes and looked at Patrick as he ate my ass. His eyes were open too and he was staring at me, and there was something in his eyes, something lustful, but a little sinister. 

He bit one of my ass cheeks hard and I moaned again. Patrick’s tongue returned to my ass, and I thought about the guy that Danny had been sucking off in the library bathroom, the day before he was killed, the guy with the Japanese tattoo. I thought of Rose. I remembered Patrick telling me that he had never fucked her. Was that a lie? Or was it the truth? Was it really she that didn’t want to have sex with him, or was it he that didn’t want to have sex with her? My asshole was super wet now and it was ready to be opened with Patrick’s dick, but he continued to eat it anyway. Where did he learn to eat ass like this? Whose ass had he eaten before? I thought about Danny, how I had eaten his ass a few days before he had shot himself in the head and splattered his blood all over my bathroom floor. Was there still blood on my floor? Or had Patrick cleaned it all away? And whatever happened to Danny’s body? I wanted to know what Patrick did with Danny’s body. 

As Patrick ate my ass, I looked over at the desk across from the bed we were fucking on, and I saw the photograph. I had placed it on his face, so that I wouldn’t have to look at it, so that I wouldn’t have to…I remembered Patrick’s father. I remembered being fourteen. I remembered wishing how I had a dad like Patrick’s…I remembered how much Patrick’s dad used to smile at me all the time, and how I smiled back. I remembered, one time, a year before Patrick’s father died, I had spent the night over Patrick’s house. I had waken up at nine o’ clock in the morning, to use to the bathroom. I remembered walking down the hallway and hearing the sound of Patrick’s father’s voice as he hummed in the bathroom. I had pushed open the bathroom door gently, and looked inside. 

Patrick’s father had been standing over the sink, completely naked, shaving. His whole body was wet and glistening, and he looked beautiful. I remembered thinking that was how I wanted to look like when I was his age. And Patrick’s father turned around and saw me standing in the doorway, seeing me looking at his ass. He didn’t frown or get angry like I thought he would…instead he smiled…

Patrick was fucking me. I wasn’t prepared for his dick as slammed into my ass, all the way. He kept in me and didn’t move for five seconds. When he pulled it out, I took a deep breath, and then he rammed it in again. It burned and it felt good at the same time. It hurt and it felt wonderful at the same time. For a long time, I had never wanted anyone else’s dick inside of my ass, instead of Patrick’s. And it was happening now. He was fucking me, hard. He was fucking me like he trying to get rid of all the anger inside of him and give it to me. He was fucking me like this was the last time he would ever fuck me – or anyone, and he wanted to make it count. He wanted it to be memorable. 

His cum shot into my ass. It was hot and wet, and it reached the deepest parts inside of me. Patrick howled and screamed, “Oh, shit!” and he collapsed on me, his hard dick still in my ass. I felt very wet inside. I stroked the back of his head and kissed his forehead. I hadn’t come yet, but that wasn’t important to either of us. Patrick’s dick finally softened and he took it out and rolled over on the other side of the bed. 

“I love you,” he whispered. He closed his eyes for a few moments and then reopened them. “You’re my best friend. No matter what.”

He sounded sincere and I wanted to believe him. I wanted to be stupid just for him. And a big part of me already was stupid for him. “Me too,” I said. We stared at each other for a few moments, thinking to ourselves about things that we probably didn’t have the courage to say to each other. “I’m about to go take a shower,” I said. 

Patrick didn’t say anything back. He just closed his eyes.

I climbed out of the bed, naked and sweaty, the inside of my ass still moist and wet, my dick still halfway hard. I left the bedroom and entered the hallway. I was intending to go to the bathroom as I said I was, but I noticed that Patrick’s bedroom door was wide open. For some reason, I felt compelled to go inside. 

Patrick had already made his bed. It looked new and perfect. His computer was on. There was a screen that said “Password Required to Open This Document”. My curiosity got the best of me and I sat down at Patrick’s computer chair and gazed at the keyboard. I typed the word: PATRICK, and waited for the computer to respond.

ACCESS DENIED.

I couldn’t think of anything else, so I typed in: BASKETBALL.

PASSWORD INCORRECT.

I don’t know what I was expecting to find in this document. But whatever it was, I wanted to know. I turned around and saw all the posters on Patrick’s walls. One of them caught my attention more than other posters of swimsuit models and rap stars. I remembered seeing that poster before, the one with the rabbit with the dagger sharp teeth: Darkbunny. I typed in: DARKBUNNY.

And then I remembered again, what the e-mail had said: Darkbunny in reverse. 

I typed in: YNNUBKRAD. I waited anxiously.

ACCESS GRANTED.

The document opened and a bunch of paragraphs appeared on the screen. All of the paragraphs had dates attached to them. The earliest date was labeled 10-9-04. I started to read.

10/09/02

-- He’s the reason why it happened. He’s the reason why he did it. I fuckin’ hate his guts. I wish he was…no, I’m not gonna even say it.

10/30/04

-- I asked K and that other boy if they would help me do it. It was easy to get K to say yes. It was the other boy that I had problems with the most. But you know me, I always have ways to get people to say yes.

11/15/04

--You know why I fuckin’ hate him so much? He fuckin’ acts like nothin’ ever happened. He acts like he’s not even fuckin’ responsible for what happened. He talks to me like we’re still friends…

12/8/04

-- It’s all planned out. Everything. Nothing better get fucked up. The hardest part is the wait. I’m so fuckin’ impatient. But it’s gonna be worth it.

1/4/05

So far, everything has gone right. I sent him the note and the book. Now it’s up to that boy to do his part…

“So, you’re Sean.”

I was so wrapped up in reading Patrick’s entries, that I almost didn’t hear the voice. The only reason I stopped reading was because I came to the sharp realization that the voice I had just heard wasn’t Patrick’s. It was someone else’s. Suddenly I remembered I was naked, and I felt cold. I turned and saw a tall guy standing in the doorway, fully clothed. Everything about this guy was dark: his hair, his eyes, his whole presence…but he was gorgeous. He looked at me, an amused expression on his face. And I remembered who he was immediately. I remembered the eyes. It was the guy from the bathroom, the guy with the tattoo. I knew this was the guy Patrick had been talking to on the phone in the middle of the night. 

This was Kevin. This was the guy Patrick had said, “I love you” to. Kevin looked at me like he knew me. He looked at me like he wanted to hurt me. He crossed his muscular arms over his chest, and I thought about the dream I had, of Patrick leaning against the wall, with his arms over his chest, looking sexy and dangerous at the same time. How long had been in the house? Had he seen Patrick and I together? I felt even more naked than I already was. I looked at the computer screen, and then at Kevin. 

I was afraid. At first I thought he wasn’t really standing there. And then it all became real when Patrick appeared in the doorway, next to Kevin. They stood there, Patrick completely naked, Kevin wearing a black shirt and tight blue jeans. And they just stared at me, Patrick with an expression of hatred on his face, and Kevin with a blank face. Patrick was holding the gun. Patrick was holding the gun that Danny had used to kill himself. Patrick was naked and he was holding the gun that Danny had used to kill himself.

And I was trapped.

To be continued…