The Dreamer Ch. 03

The next afternoon I parked my car behind the large building and entered through the back door to the church offices. The anteroom outside the priest's offices was dark and cool. I sunk into a soft leather chair to wait for Father Egan.

Sitting in the darkened area, my breath seemed too loud, too exposing what I wanted to hide. My ears pounded from my heartbeat. I closed my eyes and began inhaling deeply in an attempt to calm myself. After a while I grew anxious again, it was taking too long to see him.

From down the hallway, I heard a door open. Looking toward the sound I saw the dark shape of a priest motioning toward me. I rose and followed. As I stepped through the doorway he closed the door behind us. We stood facing each other.

The priest who summoned me wasn't Father Egan. "What's wrong Don? Why are you sweating so much?" I heard him ask. I was afraid to speak. He continued, "Father Egan said he tried to tell you that he couldn't meet with you. But since you seemed so distraught he asked me to take his place."

The man in black greeting me was called "Father Hulk" by the parish teens. He was much younger than Father Egan and had obviously spent a lot of time in the weight room. His large, dark brown eyes were always piercing and left me uncomfortable. His shirt was open at the collar, revealing a tightly gnarled mass of black chest hair. His broad shoulders loomed over me.

"Father, oh Father, I can't believe what I've done," I heard myself mutter. I couldn't return his gaze, I felt such shame. My head began to swim, I felt his hand on my arm as he led me towards a chair, but then I fell.

I landed face down, my knees and hands stopping my fall. Tears began rolling down my cheeks; I began choking with my grief. I was looking down at his shoes when he spoke, "Get up, Don, nothing can be that bad." I looked upward to see his handsome face looking down at me. He was standing close. Lowering my gaze I saw that the crotch of his dark trousers was directly in my vision.

"Nothing could be this awful" he spoke, his hand resting on the back of my head. Then, slowly and gently, he began pushing my head toward his crotch. "Let me comfort you, you seem to have such need."

I closed my eyes and felt my forehead touch the fabric of his trousers. I felt the thickness of the fabric at the fly opening. But, pressing against my chin, I felt a quickening bulge. His cock was pressing outward against his trousers. I leaned back in shock, "Father."

"Oh, I know what you think," he spoke with quiet authority as his hand began lowering his zipper. "But I've had my eye on you for a long time Don. It was obvious to me what was coming." I watched in horror as he reached inside the fly of his trousers and withdrew his long, hard cock. "But I know that this is what you need. It's all right, take it, it's natural and you'll be comforted," I heard him say.

I was in shock, how could this be happening? This was no comfort, this was sacrilege. I began to resist, but he said impatiently in a voice growing angry, "Get up then. Do you want more," he said as his rough hand pulled me upward, forcing me down over his desk.

"So you say that what I'm offering won't satisfy you?" he spoke gruffly. "Then you'll have to take what I give." I felt his hand go around my waist and begin unclasping the buckle on my belt, then he jerked down the zipper to my pants. Shoving me forward on the desk, he pulled down my trousers and underwear.

"No, please, don't" I heard myself whimpering. This couldn't be what I needed. His cock pushed down on my ass crack. Bent over the desk with one arm pulled behind me I felt powerless to stop this man. He began thrusting his prick into my crack. I felt the head press against my tight hole. "Oh no, please," I cried. It was so big, I couldn't possible stand that.

He pushed further and farther, and I felt the head pressing against me. I squeezed my hole tightly, but it only seemed to allow his cock head to go deeper inside. Then suddenly I felt a searing pain as something huge tore into me. "Aghh," I cried aloud. I felt broke open, brazen heat erupted from within me. His huge cock had been rammed inside of me. My eyes blurred, I clamped my teeth together like a horse biting the bit.

"There, do you like that," he spoke through his gasping breath. "I've been watching you since I arrived in this parish, the way you always look at me. Isn't this what you really wanted?" He began thrusting inside of me, withdrawing some, then thrusting again. His huge cock filled my hole. I couldn't feel anything but its size; my ass hole felt completely spread open.

Bent over the desk the way I was, when he began thrusting I was shoved forward. His breath became louder and my pain changed to a tingling which seemed to go outward from my hole, across my butt, and then filling my balls. To my own horror, I noticed that my own cock had become engorged. I felt its head grinding against the desk.

Alone with him in the sanctity of that room it became darker. Both of us were panting, our breathing came in gasps. My ass now felt lubricated, and his cock was sliding back and forth inside of me without resistance.

I grabbed the side of the desk with both hands and spread my legs further to be more open to his thrusts. He pounded me, grabbing my waist from behind. My cock banged into the desk sliding downward and causing friction, which only made me harder.

We stayed coupled like that longer than I could have imagined. We were rutting, and grunting like hogs in heat. My sweat rolled down my body and my butt cheeks were wet from the sweat of his crotch.

Suddenly his gasping became louder and my own seemed to match it. I felt his pounding grow more abrupt. My balls seemed to be filled and heavy and tight. Inside them a growing tingle spread throughout my groin. We both began to moan. We both shouted. We seemed welded together, like one body, thrusting and grinding, unaware of the distinction of two. And then we both exploded. My own was first, shooting from my throbbing cock. Quickly I felt the sensation of hot squirting deep up inside of me. We both yelled again.

Then our grinding slowed; it became more rhythmic. I rose upward but still he was inside of me, we were swaying as in a dance. Like two large birds, one mounting the other, we moved slowly in rhythm. I felt his arms around me, squeezing me hard. With my hands I reached backward and felt his head against my neck. Our hair, and our faces, and our bodies were covered with sweat. We remained that way for a long time before we separated.

On opposite sides of the now darkened room, we each repaired our clothing while hardly looking at the other. Pulling up our underwear then our trousers from around our ankles, we tucked in our shirts and buttoned up. Wordlessly, I watched him smooth back his black, now glistening, hair. We still didn't speak. Finally he didn't even look at me, he just left the room. I followed shortly feeling complete disgust with myself.

The sky was dark when I pulled into my driveway. Lights were on inside the house. I hadn't thought at all on the drive home, I wasn't even sure where I'd been all afternoon. The events of the day now seemed too distant, even unreal.

I was beyond any capability of feeling when I turned off the car, got out, and walked into the house to be greeted by, "Where the hell have you been all afternoon?" My wife, her face angry, stood in our kitchen glaring at me. "We're supposed to be at the banquet in 30 minutes, what have you been thinking?"

"There's a banquet?" I replied, "What banquet?"

"The school sports awards banquet, you idiot," she hurled. "How could you have forgotten that it's tonight? It's all Jimmy could talk about last night at dinner."

I had forgotten. In my anxious state these past days I had completely forgotten our son's banquet. "I'll shower and be ready in 20 minutes," I snapped back.

"Not enough time," she replied. "I'm going ahead in my car" she said as she moved past me to the door.

"Stop," I heard myself snap. "What time did you get home last night?" I don't know why I suddenly was concerned. But it was all I knew to say.

"You were snoring so loudly that I slept in the other room. And why the hell do you suddenly care where I am. Now for God's sake get ready and get down there. There's a special speaker, an Olympic Silver medalist, at least Jimmy will be very disappointed if you miss it," she said with a sneer. Then, with a glare that would hardly be interpreted as friendly, she stalked from the house.

I showered and dressed rapidly. In 30 minutes I was pulling into the crowed school parking lot. Though there were no signs, I quickly assessed that the banquet was inside the gym, the same one where I had watched wrestling.

The room was washed in light. Somehow, somebody, or group of some bodies, had transformed the gymnasium to a banquet hall. I didn't know where to sit, but a young girl, a friend of my son's, greeted me when I entered the room.

"Hi Mr. Warren," she spoke. "There are no more seats up front with your wife and Jimmy, is it ok if I put you here at the back?" She gestured to a table with several empty chairs.

"Yeah, sure," I replied, following her to the table and taking a seat. I nodded and smiled at the other people at the table. I was surprised that the gym was full. When my son had told me about the banquet I thought it was only for the wrestling team. But this was obviously for all the school teams.

At the front of the gym, a dais had been built for the head table. I looked over the setting. The head table was staffed with the usual assortment of school officials and coaches. But there was one man I didn't recognized.

Looking furtively around, I extracted my seldom-worn glasses from my suit jacket. I'm not overly vain, but wearing glasses has been a concession to middle-age that I've been reluctant to make. So, they usually remained hidden and tucked away.

"That does help," I grudgingly admitted to myself. Glancing back toward the dais, I saw the figure of Father Egan sitting a few rows in front of me and looking quizzically in my direction. His facial expression registered a question as he lifted his shoulders and arms in an inquiring way. With a wave of my hand, I brushed off his look indicating that there had been nothing important, even though my sore ass served as a reminder of what had been.

Looking down the table I took in the sight of the visitor. Gasping, I held my breath and looked again. "It can't be, but it is." Sitting at the head table, right beside the high school principal, was Mike, my Mike, the jogger, the man who had broken my resistance and unleashed my urges. How could he be here?

And then I remembered that my wife, as she snarled out the door, had said that the speaker was an Olympic silver medalist. Could it be Mike?

I was taken back. "Why didn't he tell me," I thought. "Was he afraid of being recognized?" Of course, a man with that kind of athletic body must have been training for years. I had difficulty remembering our exact conversation. It now seemed vague.

Out of a mass of confused feelings, I began to feel pride. "Of course, he was afraid; he hadn't gotten to know me well enough to know if I could be trusted." But that was alright, I'd explain to him that he was safe. We could continue to meet privately, unknown by anyone. I now knew that he was who I really wanted. Out of my confusion, fear, and guilt, I had been missing what I really wanted. And there he was, sitting right in front of me. Feelings of love and pride for him flooded through me.

I decided to wait until after the banquet before getting his attention. The ceremony was too long. I didn't pay much attention, my head was now swimming. I did come alert when my son received his wrestling letter. But the rest of the evening became a blur. Even when Mike was introduced and spoke, I tried to listen, but only head the rush of air. Cool air. I had been lost for so long, but now I'd come home.

After an insufferably long period, Father Egan gave the benediction and the banquet ended. In the crush of bodies afterward, I did manage to get the attention of my son and give a "thumbs up." But the person I wanted to see, I seemed to have lost. In a panic, I surveyed the gym. But then, behind the figure of another man, I saw him. He appeared to be talking to someone. I moved to get a better look; then I came to a start.

There, in one corner of the room, he was talking to my wife. My wife! How could she? She stood there, looking so cheerful, even friendly. I watched her toss her head, then flick her hair off her shoulder. And he leaned forward grinning. I held my breath as I stood there watching them smiling at each other, Mike leaning forward. "Oh my god," I thought, 'they know each other." My wife, and the man who is the cause of all of my longing, knew each other.

"Too well," I suddenly thought. "Look at them, standing there, shameless in full view of the public, flirting!" Yes, I was sure of it, they were flirting. But was it just flirting? What time had she come home last night? And where had she been? Then I knew. She had lied, she wanted him. She was taking him from me. I knew then that I had to see him. I would explain, and he would understand. "Don't be fooled," I'd tell him. "She's a witch; she'll work evil magic on you. You won't have anything left. I'm the one who has what you need."

I stepped from the gymnasium into the same hallway I'd found this morning. I'd wait for him, and we could talk. I stood waiting for a long time. He remained, even after my wife left, talking to one adoring fan, then another. Finally I saw him leave with another woman and I followed.

Stepping outside the gym I called out to him, "Mike, wait." He stopped, turned, and looked back towards me. I was walking through a darkened area, so he didn't recognize me. Stepping into the light I said, "I've been waiting for you. I've been waiting so long, so that we could talk."

"I'm sorry," I heard him say, "Do I know you? Have we met?"

"Of course we've met," I laughed. "How easily they forget, huh?" I humored. But I could tell from the look on his face that he didn't recognize me. There, in the middle of a high school parking lot, I realized the truth. The bastard didn't care for me. The person who had changed my life so much, and who had caused such agony in me, didn't even value the passion we shared together. I felt my anger rise, slowly at first, but then breaking through like a tide bursts against a seawall. The sound in my head grew louder. He had used me.

"How could you," I heard myself scream as my fist flew forward. I felt nothing, but saw his head jerk backwards from my blow, then crash into the side of a car. He grabbed his face and I began swinging again. Dark, red blood began to flow down his neck. But I kept screaming, and hitting him.