Not a day goes by when I don't think about him.

He was some image of beauty, Johnie was. A smile that could kill. That funny space between his front teeth. Every time he flashed that smile at me, I melted. I couldn't stay mad; could forgive him anything.

Johnie had a perfect body. Trim, strong, compact. Lovely large pierced nipples that were so sensitive he could come from just a few minutes of either soft sweet caressing or my heavy-duty pinching. He had a beautiful long cock and a perfect ass that I both gratefully worshipped and tortured for hours on end.

But I never understood what was going on in his head. He never allowed me access to his thoughts, his past, or what he wanted from his... or our future. Never shared emotions other than his sexual desire and a random 'I love you' during orgasm. It's almost like he used me, like I was set up. Like he was just waiting. Like he knew all along how it would end.

I loved him. I could forgive him almost anything. But I will never be able to forgive him for leaving me like he did.

David never really understood me. I loved him, which he never seemed to believe, but he was chosen right from the start to be the one. We weren't destined for a lifetime together, to set up a home or share banking accounts. We were destined for exactly what happened. And I love him more than I have ever loved another for what he gave me. The only thing anyone ever gave me that truly mattered.

We met in a most bizarre way, Johnie and I.

I was leaving work late and heading down the block by my office, thinking of a stiff drink to wash away the memory of my long day, when I saw him leaning up against my little Honda's front hood. As I neared, I felt a bristle of both fear and excitement stir through my body. It was dark, but enough light illuminated him from the streetlight. He was gorgeous. God, he was gorgeous.

And my cock stirred with thoughts of tasting him, of working off the day's frustrations.

I couldn't tell what he doing. It almost looked like he was waiting for me. When I was but ten feet from the car, he stood up and I saw that smile for the first time. He flashed me that smile, and that funny space between his front teeth. I smiled back; how could I resist?

And he kicked out my front left headlight.

"Fucker!" I yelled and started running towards him.

He bolted quickly down the block and I did my best to keep up all the while yelling obscenities at him. I'm not sure what I thought I was going to do if I caught him, but I ran anyway.

Only a chance car turning from a cross street gave me the opportunity I needed. He dodged the car, tripped over the curb and fell hard. And I pounced.

"What the hell was that?" I screamed as I grabbed his shoulders and roughly twisted his body onto his back.

"I... "

I held him down with my body and wrapped both hands firmly around his neck. Something had snapped and I was going to get a reasonable answer or hurt him real bad. I might hurt him anyway, the stupid fucker.

"Who the fuck do you think you are doing that to my car?"

"I... "

"Tell me why you did that or I am going to beat the shit out of you!"

My spit flew out in a shower across his beautiful face as I screamed and pressed my hands tighter around his neck and squeezed. I really wanted to hurt him. That's when I saw his smile the second time and felt his hard cock pressing up against my body.

"I wanted to get your attention."

He did. It worked. I kissed him firmly on the lips, all anger giving way to desire, and when he returned my kiss grabbing me by my hair and holding me tight to him, I knew I was in trouble. I fell in love. God help me, I fell in love.

He thought I did it because I was hurt by what he said. Not true. He thought it was his fault. It wasn't. The time was right and the doorway was finally open: I had him upset enough that I could take advantage of the moment and finally escape. Poor sweet David. I didn't want to hurt him, but needed to do it. He just never understood me; I needed to do it. And I needed him to do it for me.

The fight was dumb. About nothing really, but it ended up getting out of hand. I said some stupid mean things about him being an emotional cripple and that he didn't deserve me. He did what he always had done during the six months we had been fucking when confronted by my anger, or any emotion for that matter: he just smiled. But tonight it pissed me off and I slapped him hard across the face and told him it was over.

"It's over, asshole! No more. I can't play these games any more!"

He started crying and his tears burned deep into my heart. I should have known better than to try and make up. Should have known better than to engage in the play we so often did. It was foolish to play when I was mad.

"Baby, are you OK? Does it feel good?"

I had found that talk was important in the play I enjoyed so much. The play I needed so much. Sex was where I let it all out: all the loss of control I felt in my life every single day was overcome by taking that control back. I sometimes pushed too much, losing touch with reality in the moment. Communication was key so that I knew when was enough and when it had become too much, because sometimes I couldn't stop unless told to. This was especially true with Johnie. Our sex had become more and more dangerous with time.

He encouraged me, it. Said he needed it. And he told me he knew I needed it, which was true.

I trained him well for the purpose he was meant to serve. Death had always escaped me--or rather--I had always escaped it. I wasn't afraid of it, just unable to follow through with crossing over. But... when I saw David--at a sex play party where he totally beat the shit out of some boy bottom--but looked so guilty afterwards--I knew he would be the one to help me. I knew he would help me as no other had.

He didn't see me that night. I tracked him down. I watched him and learned his schedule. I arranged our first meeting and I made him fall in love with me. And I trained him to be my assassin. He was perfect.

Johnie was on his back and his arms were roped to the corner posts of my bed. His beautiful strong legs were over my shoulders and my hard cock was buried deep within his ass, his sweet hairless ass that willingly took so much abuse from me. Both of my hands were firmly circling his delicate neck and I was beginning to cut off his air supply by pressing my thumbs down firmly across his windpipe.

"Baby, are you OK? Does it feel good?"

"Yes. Come on! Do it! Fuck me... Damn it, fuck me hard!"

"Let me know... "

"Shhhh... just fuck me David. Shut the fuck up and do it."

And I did. Sweat dripped down my body and pooled on his chest and stomach as I continued pounding and then even more deeply into his gut with all my energy. Grinding my length into his hot tight ass, letting my passion take over. He would never look me in the eyes while I fucked him. Never give me any indication of either pain or pleasure with his face when I applied pressure to his windpipe and cut off his air. It was so risky. I had to watch his coloring and try to tell from his body's tenseness when I needed to stop.

But then he would surface from death's haze, breathing air deep, and I would feel his ass clamp down around my cock, then, then he would look deep into my eyes. And I would mistake it for love. I would mistake his body's natural reactions for the emotions I so wanted and needed. And I would come hard as I looked into those eyes, so hard, then melt into his arms and hold him tight.

We had a rhythm after doing it for months; I knew just how far I could push him. He wanted to get right to the edge, taunting death, as he liked to say. To taunt death. Should I have known it would end as it did?

Yes, baby. Tonight is it. I feel it. Come on. I need you now more than ever. Don't disappoint me David. You'll forgive me in time. Fuck me. Fuck me hard. Hurt me. Kill me. Kill me lover. I want to feel death as you come. Kill me now.

I knew just how long I could deprive him of air to give him the rush he so desired. Then I would let go with both hands to allow him to resurface from death's embrace and to breathe deep the air he had been deprived. And I would let go with my uncontrollable passion as his eyes met mine and my hard cock would pound once more into his bowels with such fierceness I would scream and then erupt as his ass clenched tight around me.

I knew just how long to stop his air intake, how hard to strangle, how long to prolong his desire, my passion, his death, my orgasm. My control. I was in control.

But, something wasn't right. He didn't resurface. He didn't come back. I had gone too far. My Johnie left me. He left me and as I pounded hard into his ass and emptied myself, I knew it was too late to stop him.

I couldn't stop him this time.

Thank you David, my love. Don't be angry with me. My last sensation was of your orgasm and I feel it still. I love you so much. I know you don't understand, but I do love you. Thank you. It was perfect.

Johnie died. He died with that damn smile on his face and my cock lodged deep within his ass. But I won't forgive him. This time the smile didn't work. He died from my hands. And to my death it's going to haunt me.

Not a day goes by when I don't think about him.

And that funny space between his teeth.

 

©2001 Greg Wharton - Contributor's Bio