Date: Mon, 21 May 2007 14:21:38 +0800
From: J.D. Carson <dear.carson@gmail.com>
Subject: The One With Submission and Need: Chapter Six

           The sound of my shower woke me. Tony was seated politely at
the edge of the bed, to my side. Wiping at my eyes, the faint memory
of the night before slowly came into view. My head already hurt, but
the throbbing at my temples ached more with the awkwardness and my own
faulted idiocy for allowing this man--no matter how alluring--to come
home with me.

             "I thought I'd run us a warm shower..." Tony said quietly.

             "Tony, I... I can't do this... I'm so sorry," I told him,
my heart aching at what I was saying and at his gentle, hopeful
demeanor. "I'll drive you back to Jake's..."

             "Do you mind if I asked why?"

             His eyes were focused intently, as if trying to hold down
my gaze from its fluttering darts around the room. I shook my head,
wanting to tell him that I didn't have an answer, but even that I
couldn't bring myself to say to him.

             "Was it... I thought..." He took a deep breath and then
continued his sentence with a wrenching silence.

             Needing to evade whatever was to come from the
circumstance, I climbed out of bed from the side where I could avoid
his physical presence and went into my bathroom, shutting the door
behind me. I still hadn't found the words to explain myself to him,
though I couldn't shake the feeling that he would somehow understand.
There was a quality that floated around his mysterious air, a quality
that... I cannot place... But the warm water was a comfort to pause my
thoughts, pouring over my skin.



            After my shower I found a note on my kitchen counter, next
to my blazer that he must have taken off me at some point last
night... I couldn't remember. I read the note.

             "Last night was amazing for me. I know it was for you too.
            You must let me see you again before I leave. But I won't
leave till I see you again."

             There was a cellphone number under his name, which he had
signed in three Chinese characters--and I couldn't help but smile at
them. Still I shook my head to myself, left the note where I found it,
and returned to my bedroom. Grabbing the small duffel bag from my
closet, which I kept always packed and ready with
overnighter-toiletries and a couple changes of clothes, I left the
house. My BMW would be fine with the club's valet, so I drove my blue
SUV out of the garage and finally got onto Interstate 5.

             The drive up towards Monterey was calming, even though
the purpose of my impromptu trip had my stomach in knots. It wasn't
the same butterfly-shakes that I had felt last night with Tony, and
that realization again threatened my struggling maintenance of peace
of mind. I chased the thought away, but it kept returning. So at the
first Warehouse Music I spotted from the highway, I turned in and
picked up a cd copy of Hot Fuss. Popping it into the car stereo, I was
soon satiated by his voice. Even through the electronic noise effects,
it was strangely comforting to hear. (I hadn't heard the album before,
with the exception of two or three songs that seemed familiar from the
radio.)

            When I heard the very first track that played, it dawned
upon me that he hadn't spoken a word while I had been conscious that
morning at Illyas' place... but it was a curious pleasure that I did
recognize his moan... It made me smile to myself, remembering our
'meeting'. But it wasn't till a little later along my drive, when he
sang the line "leave your number on the locker and I'll give you a
call," that I had to pull over at the closest rest-stop to replay the
song with my full attention.

             "On the field I remember you were incredible...
            On the match with the boys, you think you're alone
            With the pain that you drain from love
            In a car with a girl, promise me she's not your world
            'Cuz Andy, you're a star...
            In nobody's eyes but mine..."

             Hearing the vulnerability in those words and the way he
sang them, and remembering the way Illyas had spoken of him with such
admiration... It choked something within me, pulled me tighter into
myself... I couldn't comprehend how this boy did it. How was he able
to be like me, with his needs, and yet... command such a hold over a
man whose sadistic authority gave my weaknesses the name of
'pleasure'? Illyas said that morning, that he had loved Brandon since
their encounter under the bleachers... Love... Illyas was capable of
it... I couldn't understand it all. And Brandon... Illyas had also
said that Brandon married the woman he loved... What did that mean?
How was he able to separate his... depraved longings...from that
elusive thing we call 'love'? It didn't make any sense...

             A tap on my driver's side window shocked me out of my
reeling incomplete thoughts. It was a highway patrolman; he had a
helmet under an arm and I could see his parked motorcycle in my
rearview mirror. Fumbling to turn off my blasting stereo, I wound down
my window.

            "Everything alright here?" the gruff voice asked through the window.

            "Yes... Yes, sir."

             The officer frowned from under his large aviator sunglasses.

             "I mean... Is there a problem, officer?" I tried to
remember parking laws and if I had a smashed tail-light or an expired
something or other...

             "No problem. I just thought it was too early in the day
to find... solicitors... here."

             Solicitors? Immediately I remembered my trip's purpose
and realized that he was referring to the 'illicit conduct' that goes
on at rest-stops such as the one I was parked at.

             I chuckled nervously.

             "Oh no... No, sir... I was just listening to something...
My soliciting is going to be miles away from here... out of your
jurisdiction, I assure you," I said with a straight face. But it was
definitely the wrong time to attempt dry humor.

             "Excuse me?"

             "Oh... I'm... I'm just kidding," I chuckled nervously
again. "No soliciting at rest-stops at all for me..."

             His silence and frown unnerved me, so I then said the
most ridiculous thing...

             "I'm very straight, in fact."

             I don't know why I said it, but as soon as I did a smile
crept across his sneer.

             "Are you sure about that, pretty?" he asked with a
lowered husky voice, his tone and choice of words instantly recalling
Illyas. My cock twitched and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

             "Why don't you step out of the vehicle, boy... I think we
need to do a routine check."

             I could tell it wasn't so much a request as it was an
order, as he set his helmet on the front hood of my car. My hands
shook slightly as I turned off my engine, wishing I could turn off my
libido as well... as I felt an excitement already spurring my dick.
Getting out of the car, I felt the blood rise promptly to my cheeks as
the officer grabbed my shoulders and pushed me against the side of my
SUV face-forwards.

             "Let's see what we have here..." he growled softly to my
ear, his hands patting down my sides. "Any drugs, weapons...?"

             From the corner of my eye I saw him remove his black
leather gloves; I shook my head, half nervous but half turned on.

             "Have you had anything to drink in the last four hours?"

             "No, sir..."

             "Are you transporting any illegal substances, material, or aliens?"

             "No... but I did drop E.T. off with his spaceship about
20 miles back..."

             Again I regretted my horrid timing. I couldn't see the
officer's face, but I could tell he wasn't amused. Why do I always try
to be funny in awkward public situations? God, I'm an idiot...

             "Okay, funny boy... I think you should come down to the
station with me to see how funny it is to be held overnight in a
crowded cell... I don't think you'll need to be soliciting at
rest-stops once you spend a night with the boys we have down there."

             Shit. How as I going to explain this to my lawyer.. or my
agent...? My publicist was going to kill me. The officer was taking
out a pair of handcuffs when as a last resort I attempted to apologize
my way out of the situation.

            "Look, I'm sorry, officer. I've had a rough morning... I..."

             "Don't get your panties up in a bunch, boy. I think we
can work something out..." he said, interrupting me, the sneer in his
voice more evident. "Tell me now, pretty, you been with a man before?"

             At this he kicked my feet further apart and leaned his
beefy weight against my back, his warm breath on my cheek smelling
strongly of chewing tobacco. I could feel the handle of his nightstick
press into the right cheek of my ass as I squirmed under him. I shook
my head 'no', squeezing my eyes shut and trying to think of dead sheep
and rotting cattle... anything to lose my growing erection. Although I
had planned to ease the tension of my sordid desires on this trip, a
large part of my need was for complete anonymity. The officer didn't
seem to recognize my 'celebrity status', but that wasn't enough. After
the incident with Tony and all that Illyas had let me into, I just
wanted things to be simple again. All my adult life I've managed to
keep my guard and guise up... just until the next out-of-town trip
when I could lock myself in a public restroom stall at a notorious
rest-stop, faceless cocks being fed to my watering mouth through a
hole in the wall--or behind bushes under the cover of darkness, in the
middle of the night, where I could grip the trunk of a tree as
security while I was bent at the waist and taking a stranger's big
hard dick up my ass.

             Having to confront people is too much for me; and
although the night with Tony let me see how it was truly my self that
I couldn't confront, it also made me realize that I didn't want to. I
don't want to face myself. All my life I've run from facing the
humiliation of my needs and I was not ready for that to change.

             "I find that hard to believe, pretty," the officer said
from behind me, his nightstick now between my legs and stroking lewdly
against the bulge of my crotch. "That you've never been with a man
before..."

             I couldn't find my voicebox in my throat, the snicker in
his voice and words rushing to my head in an unwanted thrill.

             "Cat got your tongue, boy? How 'bout I help you find it..."

             The officer then grabbed me by the collar of my white
polo tee, turning me to face him for a split second before shoving me
down onto my knees. My legs were already weak and offered no
resistance. In a swift movement of his wrist, his pants were undone
and his semi-hard cock was brought to my face, smelling of stale
sweat.

             "Why don't you open your sweet mouth, pretty... Yes...
That's it... Now let daddy give you your first taste of manmeat."

             My lips had parted without my approval, my mouth now
opening wider as I let him poke in an inch of his cock. The strong
odor of his sweaty crotch was nauseating--but sending my mind to places
I was ashamed to go. I was so turned on... My heart pounded in my
chest, my face flushed with want and shame. I hadn't let myself look
into his face since he tapped at my window, but now I knew I couldn't,
though I felt his eyes on me, watching from behind his dark shades as
I took more of him into my mouth.

             "That's it... Nice and easy... Oh, you're good at this,
straightboy. You're... argh... You're a natural little cocksucker..."

             I had half of him in my mouth, slowly sliding back and
forth over my dancing tongue. I was trying not to breathe him in too
deeply, but was soon filling my lungs with his raunchy odor.

             "Oh I think you like this, babyface... I think you like
sucking on my fucktool a whole lot..."

             And I did. I loved it.

             "Daddy's getting nice and hard just for you... Oh you're
gonna' love my full length of meat stuffing your fresh little virgin
throat..."

             His filthy mouth kept going on, though my own
mouth--sucking slowly on his sweaty meat--felt filthier. Why was I
letting him do this? Why was I enjoying it?

             "Open up wider, pretty... that's right... Daddy's gonna'
teach you how to take some cock down your throat..."

             Again my mouth immediately obeyed, and the officer--with
one hand on my car and the other behind my neck--slowly leaned his full
erection into my throat; the odor of his thick pubic bush wafted into
my nostrils and stung at my eyes.

             "I don't want to feel no teeth, you hear me, boy?" he
warned, shaking his cock in my mouth. "But you're such a little pro
I'm sure we won't have no problems..."

             He grunted as my mouth worked on his sizable meat, as I
sucked his length down my throat, pulled my face back, and then
repeated the process at the slow pace he seemed to be enjoying. The
officer adjusted his stance, shifting his feet closer to me.

             "You little faggot... You filthy little shit..." he
sputtered, his hips finally moving to slam my head back against the
car painfully as he started humping at my face urgently.

             It was my turn to groan.

             "Oh, you like it, you little bitch. You love it, don't
you? You love my manmeat fucking your face-cunt, you little slut..."

             I couldn't help but nod into his crotch.

             "Fuck..." he murmured quite suddenly, as he pulled his
dick from my sweaty face and prepared to cum. "Fuck yes..." he
groaned, now jerking himself off as his thick white cum started
splattering onto the blue of my SUV. I watched from the corner of my
eye as his cum dripped slowly down the paintwork, next to my face
which he was still holding pressed against the car. A sick sadness
tightened inside me as I realized how badly I had wanted him to cum in
my mouth or on my face... how badly I then wanted to lick his sperm
off the side of my car.

             "Oh, fuck yes... That was real nice, pretty..." the
officer muttered under his breath, stepping back from me and pushing
his softened cock back in his black leather uniform pants. "Now, don't
look so hurt, boy... You know you enjoyed that little afternoon
face-fuck..."

             I stared straight ahead at nothing in particular, my eyes
glazed. I was still on my knees with my back leaned against the side
of my car, the repulsion I felt for myself gnawing in my stomach next
to my desires for more of the officer's cock. I could feel myself hard
under my light blue jeans--which the officer wasn't noticing. He just
retrieved his helmet, gave the top of my head a heavy pat, then
mounted his bike without another word. I watched him pull out from the
parking lot and drive away, my heart sinking from both the humiliation
of what had just happened, and in regret for not... offering the
officer a reason to stay.

             After what felt like hours, though it couldn't have been
more than fifteen or twenty minutes, I forced myself off my knees.
Dusting the sand from myself and wiping my mouth and face with my
sleeve, I got back into the car still in a solemn daze. It was a
distinctly familiar feeling, but this time it was tinged with
questions... Was this what I wanted? Was this all I wanted?

             It wasn't till I turned the stereo back on to Brandon's
voice lamenting that 'everything will be alright'... It wasn't till
then that I started to cry.