I felt myself dissolving. Darkness. A thought. A wish. A vision. A flash. And there...
Madrid. Spain. Midnight. I'm actually here. Finally. I'm standing in this street. This very street. Near the driveway that leads up to Tate's House. I can't believe it. I need to savour it. This moment of reckoning... Grey rays of pale moonlight filtered through the trees that were being battered and blown in the fierce wind. A storm. But I felt none of it. I felt as if I'm floating in a breezeless street. Calm. Focused. And weightless.
"Come with me," said the reaper standing next to me. His voice was calm and crisp, as if there was no whistling wind, no thunderous hum around us.
"I have unfinished business here," I replied faintly.
"You're just a shade. A ghost. There's nothing left for you here. No one will notice you any more," he continued.
"Oh I know I'm dead. But it's about how. So young. So unfulfilled. I left. I died obsessed and madly in love with the boy who lives in that house over there. Right there. He never even knew I existed. But I had these extreme feelings. The bits and pieces I never bothered to put into words. It's so powerful, what I feel. That's why I believe my actions still have meaning. I know he will feel me. I just know..."
I took a deep breath, of nothing. I felt a thumping in my chest -- a ghostly fake heart. I was so excited. And I began my final and longest journey alone. I started walking. Kept my pace. I walked up the driveway, through the walls of the house. Inside. Searching every room. So far, empty. No one home. I started feeling sad, worried, in the darkness it seemed as if some great bird had flown over and swept away what once lived here, with the shadow of its wing.
But wait. Can you feel that? I entered the last bedroom on the left. There's an energy. So much life. The bedroom lights were off, and something lay lightly in the shadowed valleys of sheets on the bed, in blissful slumber. In nothing but boxers, there lay my prize of love for one single night, in a lifetime. Despite all his fame and all his power, Tate looked so vulnerable and delicate here, just like any other 18-year old boy, obeying the rules of sleep and bedtime.
I switched on the digital video camera and put it down on the side of the bed focused on Tate. Then I climbed on top of him. I touched his face. The softest. I felt his breath on my fingers. Like a countdown. Calm breathing of ocean waves. Stop. I ripped off his deep blue boxers with a supernatural force I didn't know I had. I barely had time to get a good look at his dick before he woke, began kicking and screaming. I pinned him down. I loved the sheer male power of him. Like a real thoroughbred colt he fought, struggling, punching me off wildly. But it made no difference. It all just went straight threw me. I was invisible to him. And his eyes, oh those gorgeous icy blue eyes, they were so confused, so frightened.
I let him go, just to see what he would do. He ran for the door, only to find it locked without a key, then to the burglar-barred windows which, for some supernatural reason, couldn't even be opened, couldn't be broken.
"Help me somebody!!," he shouted, "Mum! Dad. Help me..."
I kept the camera focused on him, on his soft perfect cock, and on his taught bubble butt. I'd never seen such a cute boy-ass. The way it wiggled, just right. The way it was shaped, my dear god, the sheer roundness of it.
I caught him and threw him on his back on the bed.
(CameraView: Tate being flung onto the bed by an invisible force.)
He felt my every touch. I held him down 100% naked on the bed under me. He looked up, tears rolling down his face.
"Tate... Calm down baby," I whispered in his ear, and from the reaction on his face, I knew he heard me.
He looked so beautiful -- the best example of how every young boy should be. So energetic, so fresh. I craved his mouth, his voice, his hair. I picked his legs up into the air, exposing his slim ass to the camera. I almost melted at how hot he looked. I drew circles on his sleek thighs and his butt-cheeks with my tongue, marking my path down to his hole. It was so soft there, between the pillows of his ass, so slippery and inviting.
Then I dipped my tongue into him. His whole body tensed up. It was so amazing, that control I had over him. I wiggled my tongue to deepen the penetration. It had never been in such a soft place before. I started licking him harder, as if I was sucking for honey. And then came the unexpected. When I looked up, his cock was fully and beautifully erect. Right in front of my face. What a cock. Definitely number one on my top10 list of the slickest things in existence. Perfection. Smooth. Neat. Lollipop-like. Slit like a snake-eye. It was like one of those carved dildos, but better. I just wanted to eat him all up.
I played with it between my fingers and wanked it a bit in its own pre-cum. Tate moaned the entire time, as if he was sharply in pain, but I could tell that it was just him enjoying it, mingled with his fear and intrigue over the unknown. Now he was keeping his legs raised all by himself. I took the head of his penis into my mouth and inserted two fingers into his soft buttery anus at the same time.
"Ohh Fuck!!! What the fuck is that?? Mmmmm," he moaned.
His cock fitted into my mouth so well, as if it was designed to be sucked. It worked so smoothly, the skin moved so easily, like changing gears on a brand-new Lamborghini.
