Into the Dar

Momma, please. I won't talk back anymore. Let me out of the closet, Momma. Or turn on a light. You know how scared I am of the dark. Don't leave me here in the dark, Momma. Please. Please Momma. Momma? Momma?

* * * *

Brandon leaned over the low, padded cubicle wall and winked at Colleen and told her she was looking mighty fine today. Then, as he turned and moved down the corridor between the cubicles, a large, apparently heavy file box under his arm, he barely missed running into Rhonda, and gave her a cheery hello and a big smile before going on his way.

Rhonda stopped by Colleen's cubicle as well. "Brandon's been very chipper today."

"Yes, isn't he a dreamboat," Colleen answered. "He's been so 'up' for a couple of weeks now. And it suits him. He always was a hunk, but it seemed like he was afraid of something—of his own shadow."

"I heard that Norris wants to push him ahead," Rhonda said. "He wanted him to be more outgoing, so Brandon's been going to a specialist. Someone who is helping him."

"A specialist? Do you mean a shrink?"

"Something like that, I think. I've heard he's using hypnosis or something. Anyway, it's put me all a flutter with Brandon. He's strutting around now like he's getting it good. He could have gotten it from me even before—but he's really something now. I melt whenever he looks at me."

"Rhonda!" Colleen exclaimed. But her cheeks were burning.

"Don't tell me you wouldn't go into the break room alone with him, Colleen Thomas. I've heard you talking about him."

"He's married," Colleen said with a forced gasp.

"Yeah, well, we both can dream, can't we? Besides now he always looks like he's just been with a woman. And I'm not going to lie and say I didn't wish that woman was me. I can tell you I wouldn't turn him down either."

Both young women giggled then, and Rhonda turned and went on her way down the corridor.

Brandon had already reached the door of the file room. He went in and walked to the back of the room and returned the file carton he'd carried in into its niche on the metal rack. The overhead light went out, the door closed behind him, and he heard the click of a lock.

He was in total darkness, and, from the heavy breathing near the door, he knew he wasn't alone.

Already beginning to pant, Brandon turned and leaned back on a worktable beside the rack where he'd stowed the file on the shelves. He moaned and spread his legs as a heavy-breathing figure moved between his thighs. A hand was buried in the hair at the back of his head and he was arched backward. He opened his lips as the lips of another took possession of them, opening them to a searching tongue. With one hand the figure held Brandon's head arched back and with the other the buttons on Brandon's shirt were being released. The lips went to his nipples.

Brandon moaned. He reached down and fumbled with the belt of the figure pressed into his pelvis, lowered a zipper, pulled out a hardening and already-sheathed and slick cock, and began to stroke it. The man pressed into him was unbuckling Brandon's belt as well and pushing his trousers off his legs.

With a groan, Brandon hooked his legs around the phantom of the dark's very real waist and whispered in a hoarse and insistent voice, "Oh, god, yes. Now. Fuck me, fuck me." He made pained, whimpering sounds as the cock invaded his channel. Stiff-armed, Brandon was arched back on the surface of the work table, his ankles crossed at the small of the man's heavily muscled back, trembling and urging the cocking on. The man buried his face in the hollow of Brandon's neck and sucked hard. Six, seven, eight deep strokes.

Then he pulled out of Brandon and turned him to where Brandon was standing on the floor but bent over the table. The man grabbed Brandon's tie, pulled it around to the back, and used it as reins to arch Brandon's torso up and back with every stroke of the renewed attack of his cock inside the young man's channel. The underside of Brandon's hard cock was stroking across the surface of the work table, and his assaulter moved his free hand around Brandon's waist and cupped the top of Brandon's cock with his palm, giving Brandon the friction of his own cock between skin and work table surface.

Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven strokes inside Brandon and he jerked and lurched, gave a little cry, and shot cum across the surface of the table. Three more strokes, and the man enjoyed his own ejaculation deep inside Brandon's channel.

They hunched there, panting in stereo—Brandon's tenor to the man's bass—until the man softened inside Brandon. He pulled out, reached around and buttoned Brandon's dress shirt again, and then reached down and pulled Brandon's trousers back up his legs, zipped him, and rebuckled his belt.

Brandon was alone, hunched over the table, when the light went back on and the door opened and shut quickly after that. He stood up from the table, looked around with only a slightly confused look, moved his head to one side to take a crick out of his neck. He looked at the rack beside him. The box he had put into place was where it belonged. He smiled slightly to himself and turned and left the file room.

As he walked back along the corridor between the cubicles, he paused once more to give Colleen a smile and a slightly saucy look.

Colleen did a bit of a double take. His eyes looked dreamy and he certainly did, as Rhonda had mentioned twenty minutes earlier, look like he'd been "getting some." She even got the heady hint of a musky smell in the air that she'd have to admit she found arousing.

It'd been nearly a half hour since he'd passed by. Had she seen Rhonda in that half hour? She'd have to think. Maybe Rhonda was getting something she wasn't. True, he was married, but she'd been giving it to Mr. Watson in accounting and he was married too—and Brandon was a whole lot hunkier than Mr. Watson was.

* * * *

"I think that was a very good session, Brandon," Dr. Milton said at the door of his treatment room. "I think we're coming along very nicely. Very nicely indeed."

"Thank you, Doctor. I do feel quite refreshed. I was a little nervous when I came in today, but feel like I'm walking on clouds now."

Brandon smiled at the man who was sitting in the waiting room as he left to walk uptown to the apartment he shared with his wife, Cindy. They'd been married for a year, and it really was her problems that had sent Brandon looking for help. His fear of the dark was ruining her sleep. The tossing and turning had sent them to separate twin beds already, something they both knew was unusual for near newlyweds, but it was the light that had really gotten to her. Brandon hadn't been able to sleep—or do anything—in the dark. And Cindy couldn't sleep with the lights on. After Dr. Milton had started treating Brandon, now the dark of night, in his own bed, didn't cause Brandon to toss and turn and cry out in fear. They were thinking of exchanging the twins for a king already, and Cindy now only wore the night mask and had the sound machine on out of habit.

The man, not at all bad looking for his age, but probably pushing forty, smiled back at Brandon. He stood as Brandon was leaving. He was a professional type—probably a lawyer. But he hadn't gone to pot. He had kept himself in good shape. Brandon was wondering what the man could be seeing Milton for as he got out of the elevator and walked out onto the street.

The man had been taking a wallet out of his pocket as he stood. Brandon's office paid for his visits without Brandon having to pay anything. Norris had told him that they'd cover it as part of his executive training. They obviously liked his work, and it had only been the effects of his insomnia that had been holding Brandon back from promotion.

Brandon had stopped on the street. He had no idea why he was stopped, but when he saw that he was standing by the cashier's booth to a movie theater, he had the sudden urge to go in. He had no idea what the movie was even, but it didn't seem to matter.

The movie hadn't started when he entered the theater. He moved to the top row of the balcony. Very few patrons were attending the showing, and all of them were much farther down, nearer the screen.

The lights went out and the movie started, one of the dark-atmosphere movies—and rather racy—all sorts of meaningful, longing looks and hoarse talking and grasping fumbling.

Brandon wasn't alone. A man sat down next to him, in the dark. He put his arm around Brandon's shoulders, and Brandon raised his arm, permitting the man's hand to go under his pit and to clutch his chest on top of one of his pecs. The man's other hand was in Brandon's lap, unzipping him and pulling out his cock. Brandon turned his face to the other man, not being able to discern the man's features, although they looked slightly familiar, and the two kissed.

Brandon reached over, unzipped the man, brought his cock out, and started stroking it.

After the man had leaned over and sucked Brandon hard, Brandon did the same for him. The man pulled Brandon's trousers off his legs, and sat Brandon on his cock, facing the screen.

In a dark bedroom scene on the screen, a couple languidly fucked, all legs and entwining arms and sighs and groans.

Brandon watched the scene, not really seeing it, as, with his hands gripping the back of the seat in front of him, he fucked himself on the man's cock, using the balls of his feet for leverage in his rising and falling. The man groaned behind him, ejaculated, and pulled Brandon into his lap. He snaked his hands around Brandon's waist and placed one hand on Brandon's belly to hold him close, still skewered on a softening cock, and stroked Brandon to his own coming with the other hand.

Brandon moaned to his finish, his unseeing eyes glued to the movie screen.

On the way home from the movie, he stopped and bought Cindy a bouquet of flowers. He was feeling randy. They'd have quite a session tonight. Cindy seemed to enjoy the fucking—a lot—but he tried to bring her something like flowers to warn her when he felt particularly hot, so she could think of a reason to hold him off that particular night if she wasn't in the mood as well.

* * * *

The doorbell rang after dinner, and when Brandon answered it, he saw Dr. Milton—and another man, younger and in an UPS delivery uniform, standing in the outer hallway in front of the door.

"I left my office and saw that you had left your briefcase, Brandon," Dr. Milton said. "I pass by here on the way home anyway, so I thought I'd drop it off to you."

"Thanks, Doctor. I hadn't even realized I'd left it there," Brandon said.

"Umm. This is my son, Jim, Brandon. Sorry, I should have introduced him immediately."

"Quite all right. Hello, Jim."

"Hello. Umm, would you mind if I used your bathroom?"

"Sure. Go ahead. The guest bathroom is right over there, by the door to the patio."

While Jim was gone, Cindy appeared and she and Brandon engaged in some chit-chat with Dr. Milton.

Later that night, Brandon was on top of Cindy in her twin bed, her legs open to him, writhing under him, as he plowed her hard and deep for the second time that evening. He had no idea why he was so randy—and she showed no evidence of caring as long as he was.

He rolled off of her with a groan and padded off to the bathroom to take a leak and a shower. When he came back, she appeared to be in a deep sleep already. Her sound machine was on, her night mask was covering her eyes, and she'd even taken a couple of sleeping pills. The sleeping pills was another thing Brandon hoped Cindy could wean herself away from once his problem with the dark was fully sorted out.

Brandon laid down on his own bed, on top of the covers. He didn't get under the covers until the middle of the night, and he slept in the nude. He reached over and turned out the light. He laid there, eyes open, slightly panting, feeling his arousal returning. His hand went to his cock.

The hand was brushed away. There was another hand on his cock. And then a mouth came down over it, and Brandon stretched and raised his arms over his head and purred. He no longer was being sucked. Someone was sitting on his belly. It was a man. His cock was slapping against Brandon's belly. Hands were taking Brandon's wrists, one after the other, and tying them off on the brass rails of the twin headboard.

Brandon sighed and moaned as the man lowered his lips on Brandon's. The lips were soon replaced by a plump cock, and Brandon's mouth was as open to that as he had been to the tongue that preceded it.

At length, the probing, hard cock was replaced by a ball gag and Brandon's hips were being raised with broad hands palming and spreading his buttocks. The cock slowly entered his channel, the going being tough because it was so thick. It entered and entered and entered, Brandon's hips being further raised on top of strong thighs as knees moved under the small of his back.

Brandon moaned and groaned. He dug his heels into the mattress, and when the deep, long-stroking started, he started a counter rhythm all his own against the stroking of the cock, using his feet for leverage.

When Cindy woke in the morning's light and pulled off her sleeping mask, she looked down to watch the bobbing of Brandon's head as he sucked on her nipples. She moved her hands to the small of his back and held him to her, enjoying the coordination of the bunching of the muscles at the base of his back, running onto his buttocks, with the rhythm of the fuck deep inside her.

She didn't know what was making Brandon so randy of late. But she certainly was benefiting from it. She reached over and took the thick, slickened dildo off her nightstand, and Brandon lurched and groaned as she reached around and worked it into his ass.

This was a fetish of his that had started even before they were married. She was long past trying to figure out why ass play with a dildo made Brandon extra horny during their sex. All that mattered to her was that it did.

* * * *

"Now, remember, Brandon," Dr. Milton was saying as he sat next to where Brandon was stretched out on a backless and armless couch, "As you drift into that world of pleasure and security, you will forget the dark as being a place of fear and confinement. You will think of it as a world of pleasure and freedom—freedom to express yourself and take your full pleasures."

Brandon's body was relaxing. He was drifting off as Dr. Milton's singsong voice helped him to move to that other world—a world of dark, but a world without fear, without inhibitions, of pure pleasure.

Milton continued droning on for a few minutes, listening for the shallow breathing, the slight pant—the pant of arousal that Milton himself had created in this luscious, young, hard-bodied man lolling on his couch.

"It's dark and getting darker, much darker." This wasn't so, the room was in full light. But Milton was making it so in Brandon's mind. "You are moving to that fully free pleasure world."

Brandon was laying on his belly, fully stretched on the couch, totally relaxed, a sensuous smile on his face and a bit of drool. He had raised his hips a bit and was slowing rubbing his basket against the leather of the couch.

Milton smiled, stood up from his chair, and moved around the room, turning off lights. He went to the windows and closed the blinds. It was almost pitch black in the room. He stripped off his trousers and briefs and then returned to the couch and pulled Brandon's trousers off his legs.

He stood there beside the couch, working up his cock. Brandon turned his head toward him and sighed, and Milton slipped the cock between the young man's lips.

Ten minutes later he was straddling Brandon's pelvis with his knees, riding his ass, while Brandon gripped the legs of the couch and moaned and pumped his pelvis back onto the doctor's cock. Fifteen minutes later, the doctor let out a little grunt and came. He rose off Brandon, let Brandon clean his cock with his mouth. Then he pulled his briefs and trousers back on and went to the door to the waiting room.

The same man who had been there the previous day and who had since heard—if not really paid attention to—an art movie in a nearby movie house came in, handed the doctor a tidy sum of money.

He removed and carefully folded his business suit and laid it on a chair. He walked over to the couch and reached for Brandon's ankles and turned the young man on his back. Brandon looked up at him—in the darkness—with a dreamy smile and hooded eyes of already being satiated, but ready for more.

The man was already hard, having let his mind go over this scene all the time he was in the waiting room and listening to Dr. Milton's grunts and groans and Brandon's little cries of the taking.

He spread-eagled Brandon's legs and thrust inside him. Brandon arched his back, clawed at the leather of the sofa, and moaned his new acceptance—his embracing—of the dark.