*********** 2 *****************
Daryl was Ari's first and only male crush. The two met as Seniors in high school, decades ago, on the track team. Daryl had transferred in from a city school as part of an integration effort put in place by the federal government. At first, it was not a gay thing, or at least that's how Ari remembers it. It was about comfort and a relaxing togetherness.
Daryl, an outsider, was both wary of his classmates but also hungry for their acceptance and friendship. And Daryl was easy to be friends with. He was not like the men Ari's father told stories about over dinner; how 'the blacks' stole jobs or were lazy or threatened violence and crime particularly against women. How they were uneducated and inarticulate. Daryl was friendly and smart and funny. Change his skin color and Daryl would have been class president. But his skin was dark mahogany and so Daryl remained, for the most part, an outsider.
But Daryl's skill on the race course earned him at least grudging respect and his efforts contributed to the team's second-place finish at state that year. A young Ari found himself running several events with the stallion and so they warmed up together, they stretched together, and they waited on the field or bleachers together for their events to be called. Those down moments gave them a lot of time to talk and joke about things that teenage boys talk about.
It was not about sex. It wasn't until college that Ari, thinking back on his friend who had all but disappeared from his life, recalled the chiseled body, large firm thighs, incredible ass and of course glistening dark brown skin, that Ari fantasized about being with a man. At first, he considered slurping down Daryl's big black cock. But eventually, it was Daryl's thighs - the big meaty muscles that powered him around the track - that Ari imagined slapping up against his backside as Daryl's dick pummeled Ari's ass that truly turned him on.
But the real world was different. Walking the campus as a young coed, Ari's groin had still lit on fire more often at the sight of bare-skinned women than pudgy white boys. And so he had let the fantasy go. Daryl drifted away, only to occasionally visit Ari's sexual dreams during moments of high stress at work or home. But when Ari was put on disability for some BS diagnosis a couple of years earlier, Daryl began paying more visits.
Daryl was not far from Ari's mind as he reviewed, one final time, the second installment of his video seduction campaign. He was very happy with his performance. He wondered if Daryl would have appreciated the video. Back in high school, Daryl had a girlfriend but so did Ari. That didn't mean anything. Ari's fantasy required that Daryl's homosexual need for a man - for Ari specifically - woke with just as much hunger as Ari's. In Ari's mind, Daryl's sleeping dragon rose and breathed a sulfuric fire of obsession for Ari's ass. And on some days, it was not just Daryl. His entire track team was present, watched and lusted over Ari's then lean and supple body.
Ari was only vaguely aware that he was losing control of his core principle and idea. This started as the simple pursuit of sex with a man. It was simple and straightforward. Had Ari acted on his feelings in high school or college in the usual acts of awkward and embarrassing one on one seduction, his obsession now would be quite different. But after decades of a repressed ebb and flow of male desire, Ari stood on a teetering precipice of naive sexual discovery. He had no idea what he was doing. He felt it somehow necessary to make up for years of lost opportunity. His fantasy of men and their sexual appetites were driven by bizarre porn sites and his own imagination. He was blind to the reality of things and yet he gladly ran into the dark void.
EPISODE 2:
Ari added a dedication for episode number two. White letters displayed on a dark mahogany background with the words, "For Daryl: I dream of your thighs, your ass, your beautiful and hard dick."
Episode number two of Ari's video series picked up where episode number one left off.
A close up video of Ari's stomach with the handwritten words "Let me Suck Your . . ." linked the second video to the first. Ari's breathing made the words come to life as they throbbed on the surface of his lower abs with each deep breath.
A new soundtrack in the background faded in. It was a slow and sensual jazz song, but mixed into the bass, guitar, and synth-generated orchestra were distinct sounds of human moans; human sounds of desire and hunger and loss. The moans grew louder and as they did it seemed to change the meaning of the video. The same heaving words, "Let me Suck Your . . ." were no longer a polite request of a man of means but the desperate plea of a sexual pauper. It was as if his stomach and his body were begging for it to happen. It needed to draw the rigid muscle of an aroused and dominant man into his wet lips and mouth or its soul would wither. The desperation only seemed to grow as the track became louder and the breaths became deeper.
The words of agonizing desire heaving on his stomach faded to black. In its place emerged video of the dick shaped dildo being stuffed in and out of Ari's mouth, a repeat performance from episode #1. It was in slow motion. It was in close up. Spit drooled down the shaft and on his hands creating a glistening sheen. Ari visibly gagged and then gagged again. A long slimy strand of spit clung to the dildo as it was pulled from his mouth then Ari's tongue lapped at the spit and the tip of the dildo before swallowing the liquid and resting the tip gently on his lips.
The video faded to black. The soundtrack continued but in lower decibels.
Words appeared.
"After you punish my lips . . .
After I taste my first dick . . .
After you bring tears to my eyes . . .
I have another . . .
