Craigslist Hookup Pt. 05

This is not a response to the negative comments on Part 4. It's just something that has been knocking around in my head for a while so I decided to write it. I did at one time consider ending the last story with the writer's finger hovering over his mouse button then deciding not to submit the original ad to Craigslist, making the whole story a fantasy, but this was right after the story was published and I didn't want to change things. So here it is. It's not as good as I wanted it to be but I hope you enjoy it. And if you don't that's okay too.

My phone beeped. I pulled it out to see who could be texting me this late at night.

"Miss you" was all it said. It wasn't from any of my contacts so figured it had to be a wrong number and didn't think any more about it.

A few days later I received another text. It came up in the same box as the "Miss you" that I had gotten earlier so I knew it was from the same person.

"Been thinking about you a lot, Baby. See you soon."

No one called me "Baby" except my wife. I figured someone had to be playing a joke on me but I couldn't figure out who it could be. I checked the number to see if it looked like anyone I knew.

I didn't recognize it but there was something vaguely familiar about it.

This time I replied.

"Sorry. I think you have the wrong number."

"Nope."

"Then who are you? You're not in my Contacts."

"No worries. If you think long and hard I'm sure it will cum to you. See you in a few days."

"What do you mean?"

No response.

I waited an hour then tried again.

"What do you mean by you'll see me?"

Still no answer. I was starting to get a little freaked out. Who was coming to see me? Why? And what was up with how "come" was spelled? My wife and I sexted occasionally but this wasn't her number. It couldn't be anyone from work. I mean, I wasn't cheating or anything. I didn't even flirt with anyone. The only time I had done anything that could be considered being unfaithful was...Will!

It couldn't be him. He had been...gone...for almost a year.

Frantically, I checked the number again. Was it his? I couldn't remember. I racked my brain. I knew I didn't have his business card and I had deleted all our texts and e-mails. He had always told me he had done the same thing to keep anyone from finding out about us. (See? I'm trying to fill in the plot hole from the last story.)

I could text and see if it was him but that would mean someone knew about us. And about how I had...ended things.

I had to know. I picked up my phone and typed a reply. My hands were shaking so much it took me several tries before I finally got it right.

"Will?"

No answer. Five minutes passed. Then ten. Fifteen. I tried again.

"Will?"

Finally I got an answer.

;-)

I almost dropped the phone. Holy shit! It couldn't be Will. He was dead. This could only mean one thing. Someone knew about us. And that I had killed him. But who? Will always said he had never told anyone and I trusted him on that. But maybe I shouldn't have.

It was four days later and my wife was out having dinner with her parents. I told them I was going to have to bow out because I wasn't feeling well. Which was the truth. I had hardly slept or ate since I had last heard from Will. Or whoever it was. He said he would see me in a few days. When? Or was he bluffing? All I could do was pace the floor, waiting for him, or whoever, to show up. I drank myself to sleep each night and it looked like tonight wasn't going to be any different.

Poured myself my third scotch on the rocks for the evening and forced myself to sit down. I turned on the TV, flipping through the channels, looking for something to take my mind off things. After a few minutes I gave up and tossed the remote aside. There was a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" I called out.

No answer.

Knock, knock, knock.

"Who is it?" I yelled, louder.

Again no answer.

After the third time I downed the rest of my drink in one swallow, got up, and stormed over to the door, yanking it open.

"I said who..."

My jaw dropped and I nearly shit my pants. Standing at the door was Will. He looked different than the last time I saw him. Thinner and pale. Not just thin but gaunt. Like he had been in a prison camp.

"Hey, baby," he said. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

I just stood there, in shock.

"No? That's okay," he said as he closed the door and pushed past me. "I'll let myself in. Hey, nice place. They must pay you judges well."

"W-Will?", I stammered. "How did...I mean why...how?"

"How am I here? Why aren't I dead?"

"Yeah. I thought..."

"You thought you killed me, right? Well, you did."

"Then how...?"

"How am I back? Let's just say I have a little unfinished business to attend to."

"What?"

"'What?' Really? You killed me. You told me you loved me then you fucking killed me. And why? All so no one would find out the new up and coming judge liked dick. That the "honorable" Judge Jensen had a side piece that was a guy. You couldn't have just broke things off. You had to kill me."

"I couldn't...You might have..."

"I might have hurt your precious career by telling someone? Did you even talk to me? Did you consider that I may have understood? Or that I loved you and wouldn't have wanted to hurt you? Or your fucking career? Did you?"

"No. I'm sorry. I just thought..."

"That's just it. You didn't think. You just took me to a motel, drugged me, and made it look like I killed myself. You thought you could be done with me."

"Why are you here?" I asked.

"Why, I missed you. What did you think? I just wanted to see you again. For old time's sake. You remember when we first met? Our first night together. What we did? What you did?"

"I..."

"You blew me. I remember how much you liked it. In fact, you liked it do much you blew me twice. Remember? I sure do. You were good. So good it was hard to believe you had never done it before. I think it was some of the best head I've ever had. But you could never take it all. I never cared because you meant so much to me. But you always told me you wished you could take more of me. What do you say we give it one last try?"

"What do you mean?"

He came toward me, unzipping his pants and pulling out his cock. Like him, it was pale and shriveled. But getting hard. By the time he got over to me he was fully erect.

"I think you know. Get on your knees."

"No. You can't..."

He grabbed me by the shoulders and forced me to the floor.

"I said get on your fucking knees! Now open your mouth."

He grabbed my hair and pulled back hard. As I opened my mouth in pain he shoved his cock in. In the past it had always felt warm and full of life whenever I had taken him into my mouth. Now it was cold and dead. Just a piece of meat.

He pushed his cock in my mouth. Filling me and going deeper with each thrust.

"That's it. Suck it! You're taking all of it tonight, bitch!"

I was choking on his cock. I could take quick breaths as he pulled back but that was all. Over the sound of my gasping I could hear Will's voice.

"Suck it! All of it! Yeah! Fucking swallow my dick!"

Finally he thrust one last time and held my face against his stomach. His cock was all the way down my throat. I couldn't breathe. Desperately I tried to push him away but he was too strong. My vision was getting dark. I was starting to black out. As the darkness overtook me he came. I felt his cock throbbing as he climaxed. The last thing I felt before the darkness overtook me was his cum filling my mouth. It was cold and bitter and tasted like....death.

The phone rang.

"County Coroner."

"Hey, Evan. It's Peter."

"Peter. It's been a while. I have a pretty good idea why you're calling."

"Yeah. Well it's not everyday that a judge dies. Especially one so young. When something like this happens the people want to know."

"And, of course, you want to be the one who tells them."

"Well, somebody has to. So what's the story?"

"Kind of a freak accident but the official cause will be listed as suffocation."

"What? You mean like someone smothered him?"

"Not that. He choked."

"Choked? On what?"

"As near as I can tell, he choked on an ice cube."

"As near as you can tell?"

"Well, when someone chokes it's usually because they're eating too fast, take too big of a bite, stuff like that. Whatever they're eating gets caught in their throat and they can't breathe."

"But...?"

"But in this case there was nothing in his throat. It was bruised up pretty bad but there was nothing there. But something had to do all that damage."

"And you think it was an ice cube."

"That's the only thing that makes sense. There was a glass on the table with a few milliliters of really diluted scotch left in it. He must have tossed back the last swallow and choked on an ice cube."

"You don't sound too sure of that."

"To tell you the truth, I'm not. I just don't have a better explanation."

"I guess it makes for an interesting story. Thanks."

"Sure. I'll let you know if anything else comes up."

"Sounds good. We'll see ya."

"Talk to you later. Bye."

He hung up the phone. There was one other thing he didn't mention. The judge's wife had gotten home shortly after the estimated time of death so he hadn't been dead for long. But the stench was horrible. It was actually bad enough that the police searched the house looking for another body. The house didn't smell like a corpse that had only been dead for a couple of hours.

But one that had been dead for months.