Two Southern Gentlemen

Content/trigger warning: This series contains bullying, homophobic language, and non-consensual sexual acts, but they are integral to the plot and character development so please take them in context.

DUSTY

I'm having a major feeling of deja vu because I'm sitting in that same spot as a week ago and slapping my salami like a maniac, same as last time. One key difference: I'm not even pretending to think about Misty this time. I was in a huge panic to get out of there and I didn't have time to think about much of anything except how to swim as fast as I possibly could, and by the time I got to this spot the need to relieve my pent-up lust was too strong to ignore and I needed immediate relief. This time I was in such a hurry to free my dick to jack off that I pulled my trunks down to my knees so that now I feel the rough stones and twigs and plants and shit on the ground under my bare ass as I'm reliving that intense scene that happened just minutes earlier. Swimming has washed all the piss off my face and all, but I still have that aftertaste in my mouth and I can still see him as clear as day, see that kid's dick waving in my face, then his piss covering me like the warmest summer shower, the smell, the feel, the taste of it, the incredibly intense feeling of life in it, the amazing, overpoweringly intense flavor of it, the delicious aftertaste still on my tongue...

It takes only a few more up and down strokes of my hand and then I'm erupting like a volcano. Spurt after spurt of a week's worth of teenage boy's red hot cum spews everywhere like a geyser, like an earthquake, like every natural disaster you could think of, and this time, I'm still so horny out of my mind that I scoop up a big thick wad of my cum on my index finger and lick it with the flat of my tongue so I can get the full taste of it like it's a fingerful of fucking cream cheese frosting off of a fucking Red Velvet cake and then I stuff my whole finger in my mouth and swallow it down, the burst of bitter acidity and sweetness mingling with the taste of that piss and it's so fucking hot that I find myself licking my finger like I've just been eating a bucket of fried chicken, giving it a couple of hard sucks at first and then once I've got the cum down in me slowly working my finger in and out of my mouth a couple more times like it's a damn lollipop, sucking and licking it completely clean, finding every last particle of cum with my tongue until I gradually slow and finally stop.

And once again I'm left realizing what I just did and feeling like the biggest freak in the world as my brain catches up to the fucking atrocities my body has committed, like fucking Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

Delicious aftertaste?? What the fuck!!

What the fuck. That's what the fag said, and boy, he had it exactly right. What the fuck.

My overwhelming horniness has been satisfied and the initial shock of my temporary insanity with that piss experience has worn off enough that the reality of the bigger situation finally really sets in, hard and sudden, and now, finally, now my brain is able to think and is recoiling in absolute horror at everything that has happened. I'm astounded that I could have ignored the ugly truth for this long, but hey, in my defense a lot has happened and my brain is all over the place. What the fuck have I done. What the fuck! Not only did that kid see me going fucking crazy for his piss and saw me with my hard-on when I ran off, but the worst part by far is that he has the whole fucking thing on video!!

I resolutely and completely ignore everything else that happened and focus on the main issue, which is what the fuck is he going to do with that video? Boy, that thought sobers me up real quick I can tell you that, makes my dick shrivel up so small it's practically curled up inside my body. My body's flight response is kicking in again hard, and I pull up my trunks quickly and start moving at a rapid pace even though I don't have any plans whatsoever. I swim back to get my crap and throw my clothes on, get back to the parking lot and throw the rest of my stuff in my truck, but I don't feel like driving so I just walk, I'm almost running, without even seeing which direction I'm headed in.

If I were him I know what I'd do. I'd post that video online as quick as I could and just sit back and enjoy the fireworks. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck! This is going to ruin my life. I'm completely fucked. My life is over. My life is fucking over. I should have grabbed the knife from him. I should have slit that fag's throat, stabbed him in the fucking chest! But he's in the video too, right? No, he could edit himself out. Maybe he was bluffing. Maybe he never actually had a video recorder going in the first place? Maybe the video didn't turn out right. Maybe he'll drop his phone and it'll break. Maybe the whole world will get hit by a fucking meteor and we'll all go extinct like the fucking dinosaurs... I realize I'm clutching at straws, and my pace gets slower and slower and slower as I feel the walls of the world closing in on me.

I'm fucked. I am royally, completely, absolutely fucked. My life is over. Shit!

A feeling of absolute desperation comes over me. Desperation like it's a life or death situation, which it is. I've got to get that phone from him. I've got to get him to delete that video. That's the only way. But it's like trying to negotiate with a suicide bomber or something, because if I even try to get close to him he's just going to post it. What the hell can I do? What the hell am I going to do?

I've wandered so far and so quickly that by the time I look up I realize I have no idea where I am. I've been checking my feeds on my phone every two seconds to see if anyone from school has posted anything about it, but still nothing so far. The agony of waiting for it to drop is really killing me. Shit shit shit shit shit! I've gotta do something. I've gotta figure out something! I'm gonna kill that fag. I'm going to fucking kill him!

My anger has been rising the more I think about what that fag has done to me and it threatens to blow. I seriously consider ways I could lure him out and murder him in cold blood. Knife him. Crack open his fucking skull. Push him over a fucking cliff. Bury the body in a fucking ravine. I swear, if I saw him at that moment I might have really done something to him, something real bad. But by this time it's getting late and the sun is starting to set. The slightly cooler air and the fading light calm me down a touch, get me thinking different thoughts instead of these past hours of a constantly repeating loop of anxiety, desperation, anger, and hate.

It's only now when my whole world is up in flames that I'm even thinking about that fag, no, that kid, as an actual human being, someone who actually has feelings and a life beyond just being my personal punchin' bag. No, not "that kid", I reluctantly correct myself. He has a name. Jesse. Yeah, okay, so I feel kind of bad for what I did to him, to Jesse, sure I feel bad now, but I have to admit I'm feeling a lot more sorry for myself now that I have to worry about my own skin. I spend at least another hour just pacing around, checking my phone constantly, refreshing everything to get the latest updates, sure that every time I do I'll see the digital proof that my life is officially over, feeling like I'm completely trapped and hating him for ruining my life. Except now the hate that I'm feeling for him is accompanied by just about as much hate that I'm feeling for myself for pushing him to the point where he would do this to me. I'm still too angry at him to feel that badly about all the bullying I did to him, but I have enough sense that I guess I can see he didn't do all this without any good reason. Yeah, he definitely had cause all right. I guess it actually is all my fault. I guess I had it coming after all. And why the hell did I go back there again today in the first place? Fuck.

It's gotten late, but there's no way I want to be at home right now. I text a message to my daddy saying I'm spending the night at Joe's place, and I try to figure out what to do.

I've been thinking about every possible scenario of how I can make sure that fag, fuck, Jesse, how I can make sure he doesn't post that video. Forcing him to delete it just seems too risky, even if I did manage to somehow trap him someplace. The only thing I can figure I can do is I'm going to have to just flat out beg. I don't see any getting around it. Just because he hasn't posted it yet doesn't mean jack shit. He could post it at any time. The safest way to approach him would probably be to write him a note or something, ask him to meet me somewhere to talk it over, offer him money or something. But I don't even know where he lives. I guess I could go looking for where the trailer parks are, but I don't have any paper or a pen on me anyway. I'm really debating about if I should try to find him as soon as possible or risk setting him off if I go looking for him this late at night.

I've started trying to retrace my steps and am heading back to the lake. The only thing I can figure to do for right now is that if I wait for him at that spot again maybe he'll turn up sometime tomorrow morning or afternoon if I'm lucky. I'll just have to hope that when he sees me he doesn't pull the trigger right then and there and I can beg him as hard as I can not to post that video. I'll give him whatever he wants, anything. Money, the shirt off my back, anything. Money seems like the surest bet since he's so dirt poor.

I'm finally back at the lake and slowly swimming back to that spot. The summer heat means the lake is still warm, but it feels good, and despite everything it still relaxes me some. I slip under the fallen branches as quietly as I can and peek up over the surface of the water on the other side. No sign of him, but he could be hiding again. I swim slowly to the shore so I don't surprise him or anything, and when I get there all is quiet. I walk around the area and I do find the spot covered by old brush and such where he had been hiding before, and there's some old shoestring and cardboard tied up and a peephole through the cover where it looks like he had his phone set up. Damn. So he definitely did record the whole thing. My heart falls to my feet as that feeble hope is dashed, even though I knew there wasn't much chance that he wasn't telling the truth about that.

With a huge sigh I take a seat off to the side so that I can see the whole area. The moon is much less bright than the other night, and after a week of stressing about what happened last time and almost no sleep and after all the stress from today I find myself collapsing from exhaustion and lying on my back on the ground looking up. It's been a long time since I've looked up at the night sky. Somehow I find all those cold and distant stars to be kind of comforting. "Up above the world so high..." Like to God all the shit going on down here seems to big to us but is actually small and we just can't even begin to guess how it's all going to turn out, how it fits into His big plan. For a moment, for the first time all damn day, I feel a tiny little sliver of hope, like maybe everything will turn out all right somehow after all. I have no idea how, but maybe, just maybe... Please, sweet Jesus... please...

And before I know it I'm out like a light, still grasping at the wispy cotton candy dream that everything will turn out all right... somehow...