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The Tall Dark Stranger In The Blood-Red Room


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PART I: SURRENDERING MY SOUL TO A STRANGER

 

I used to trust in God. I followed him, worshipped him, believed he could save me from damnation. But even on my best behavior—even when I was the star of Sunday School—I harbored a deep fascination with anything that flourished in God’s absence. I told myself that I wanted to live in the light of Christian convictions, but spent hours daydreaming about the heat and depravity and chaos of a place like Hell, where God’s light could never be seen again. Somehow, despite everything I’d ever been taught, the idea of Hell—that is, a place of endless darkness characterized by weeping and gnashing of teeth—just didn’t seem like such a bad gig. Think of all those deep shadows, and all the twisted fun you could have under the heavy blanket of neverending night!

 

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I finally got a chance to explore the darkest of my daydreams during the summer between high school and college. Just a few months after my 18th birthday, I took a road trip through Southern California, telling my parents that I wanted to see Disneyland and Sea World. My actual plan, however, was to spend a week exploring Palm Springs. I’d read stories about all the twisted goings-on at those clothing-optional resorts, and I needed to see some of it for myself. I still hadn’t told anyone I was gay, I was a virgin, and I was terrified of all the things I didn’t know about gay sex. I had no plans to go hog-wild, but simply wanted to be a quiet observer—maybe even get a first-hand look at the grunting wild-animal communion of male bodies going bump-bump-bump in the night.

 

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I’d done enough research to know that the gay resorts in Palm Springs were mostly concentrated along Warm Sands Drive, so that’s where I went first. I parked my car a few blocks away—cautious and discreet as ever—and nervously approached the main cluster of sex clubs.

 

As I made my way along the sidewalk, I heard footsteps just a few feet behind me. Turning around, I found myself in the presence of an unusually tall, powerfully built man—he was just shy of seven feet, and his shoulders were at least twice as wide as mine. And just to be clear: I’m no slouch in the musculature department. I played football and wrestled in high school, and I have a nicely proportioned jockboy frame. Think of me as that dark-haired white boy-next-door, standing six feet tall and weighing 185 pounds, with a well-developed chest, tight abs, and a clearly defined trail of fur leading down past my navel to my uncut cock and heavy, low-hanging balls.

 

But this guy? He was next-level. And even in the darkness, the way he looked at me was flat-out mesmerizing: his eyes glinted in the evening heat, as if his stare could bore right through my skin. 

 

“Hey there,” he said as he approached, flashing a slightly fiendish grin. “What’s a cute boy like you doing in this part of town?”

 

“Oh, just checking out the sights,” I said lamely. He was now standing right next to me, or actually towering over me, and I could feel an intense warmth vibrating from his body. He maintained that unearthly stare, and we just stood there in silence for a few moments. Then he took my hand, gently guiding it to his crotch, and used my fingers to trace the full outline of a rock-hard cock that appeared to extend halfway down his thigh.

 

I looked into his eyes again. He was smiling down at me, quietly nodding as I explored the massive girth of his dick. Then he leaned down and whispered in my ear.

 

“I have a place not far from here,” he said, the depth and richness of his voice causing my little virgin hole to twitch. “Do you want to follow me there?” I replied with an eager nod. “Good—then open your mouth, boy.” I opened wide, and he spit in my mouth before sinking into a passionate kiss. “I hope you like that spit.” I smiled and nodded, which frankly surprised me—I wouldn’t have imagined that spit could’ve turn me on, but it did. And somehow, just then, my head started tingling and my nipples started quivering and my hole started pulsing with hunger.

 

He leaned down to spit in my mouth again. That caused my head to tingle even more, and I could feel my heart racing like I’d just binged on a gallon of coffee. He cupped my face in his hands, looked intently into my eyes, then nodded with clear satisfaction. “Oh, I can see it in your eyes now. You’re definitely mine,” he said matter-of-factly—and I felt no need to contradict him.

 

Just then, he quietly thrust his fingers down the front of his pants. I glanced down to see the outline of his hand exploring his giant cock-bulge for a moment or two, at last re-emerging to show me his fingers covered and dripping with an impressive layer of thick, white cum. “I leak,” he explained. “I leak constantly. A fucking geyser of precum, all day. Now open your mouth again.” I complied without hesitation, my eyes fluttering as he slowly worked his jizz-covered fingers into my mouth. Moments later, my head experienced a fresh rush of that tingling sensation, even stronger than before. I found myself involuntarily arching my back to expose more of my fuckhole to anyone who might be passing by. And the simple sensation of my T-shirt rubbing against my suddenly ultra-wired nipples made my entire body shiver with the anticipation of sexual discovery—and the promise of sexual corruption.

 

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“Call me Abraxas,” he said. “And you are?”

 

“Michael,” I replied.

 

“Ah yes—the archangel,” he said with a vicious smirk. “By the end of the night, I might need to give you a new name.”

 

“Please, sir: do whatever you want.”

 

“You mean that, boy?” His stare had taken on a new intensity, and I found myself feeling weightless, like tumbling in space, all of my energy and attention somehow absorbed by that sharp glint shining from the depths of his eyes.

 

“Yes I do,” I replied without missing a beat, as if that were the only possible answer.

 

“I want you to repeat after me,” he said. “Are you ready?” I gave him a nod, and his voice lowered and flattened as if emerging from the deeper recesses of his massive frame. “Abraxas, lord and master, I surrender my body to you.”

 

“Abraxas, lord and master, I surrender my body to you.”

 

“Abraxas, lord and master, I freely give you my soul.”

 

“Abraxas, lord and master, I freely give you my soul.”

 

“Mold me in your image. Make me yours. Mark me. And never let me go.”

 

“Mold me in your image. Make me yours. Mark me.” Here I paused as he leaned down to kiss me—but this time, as my tongue explored his mouth, I felt an unusual sharpness along the ridges of his teeth. He withdrew from the kiss, then gently repeated:

 

“And what else, my boy?”

 

“And never let me go. Please, please: never let me go.”

 

He smiled with the slyness of a quiet conqueror. And just then—though I told myself, again and again, that it must have been a trick of the evening light—his eyes took on a subtle red glow, shining like embers, as he placed his arm firmly around my shoulder and showed me the way to his dark sanctuary.

 

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Guest Gigicxuogphof

Lord of Darkness give us more. Take my body and soul too I give it freely.

Edited by Gigicxuogphof
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