Page 15

Danny

“ What do you want, Danny?” his sultry, husky voice asked.

“I want to know what I’ve been missing,” I growled. “I want to fuck you, kiss you. I want your body next to mine when I wake up. I want to watch you lick me all over, suck me off as I watch you swallow every drop of my cum.”

The sultry smile before me had my cock straining against my jeans.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

I had long deprived myself of this particular pleasure, but I decided that for this one night and this night alone, I would finally indulge. For as long as I could remember, I harbored a dark secret to taste the forbidden fruit, to experience the searing heat of a single kiss and to know the profound intimacy of love, if only for a fleeting moment.

I stood immobile as I watched the sexy blond walk forward, running hot, fevered hands over my short hair. For the first time, I yearned for longer hair that someone could pull and play with. Throughout my life, I had found satisfaction in facing challenges and hardships, yet at this precise juncture, I was completely at the mercy of fate, rendered utterly incapable of influencing my present situation.

The rich aroma of dark roast coffee filled my nostrils when his soft tongue, wet and warm, licked my neck. The tactile and olfactory sensations were so intense that, with my eyes tightly shut, I shuddered uncontrollably. Unexpectedly and without warning, incredibly warm and delightful lips pressed against mine. Then a hot tongue invaded my mouth, causing a sensual moan to escape my lips.

The feeling was completely novel, entirely unprecedented in my experience, and yet, paradoxically, I found myself completely enthralled by it, loving every moment. My response was immediate when I plunged my tongue into his fiery depths. A violent, uncompromising assault began as hands moved repeatedly up and down my back, aggressively pulling at my shirt until finally, warm hands touched my bare skin for the first time.

As I lifted my shirt to get it out of the way, the assault on my mouth was momentarily interrupted, only to begin again with even more vigor as if no interruption had ever occurred. His tantalizing hands roamed over my firm chest, teasing and tugging at my sensitive nipples.

A wave of intense pleasure sent shivers of ecstasy up my spine, making my skin tingle.

This was actually happening.

I couldn’t wrap my mind around it, nor did I want to.

It felt so right, oh so wrong and so fucking fantastic!

With a sigh, the kiss broke and then those soft, warm lips, like plush velvet, slid down my throat, finding a home in the hollow of my neck, rubbing and caressing their way down my chest.

A tidal wave of unprecedented sensations crashed over me, leaving me utterly saturated and reeling from the sheer intensity of the experience. I’d given my body over to others many times before, submitting to their desires, but the overwhelming nature of these new sensations completely escaped my control. I had convinced myself that a single night of ardent passion would suffice. One taste and my needs would be fully satisfied. With those feverish hands and that wicked mouth moving over me, a profound realization washed over me. I had unearthed something within my very being, something so fundamentally transformative that it would forever eclipse all other experiences.

With sudden clarity, I grasped what my heart truly ached for, what it desperately required, and what it intensely desired.

“Clothes off, Danny,” his voice demanded.

Quickly dispensing with my pants, I was left standing naked. My hard cock jutting out while those hot hands grabbed my dick and began the slow, torturous movement of jerking me off. I watched as the sexy blond smiled, then kneeled before me. Working every square inch of my cock with his scorching mouth, I moaned, “Oh fuck, that feels so good.”

“Just wait, baby,” the blond whispered, licking the head of my cock.

“Fuck,” I cursed loudly, clutching his head to steady myself while he ran his tongue along the head of my penis. With a groan escaping my lips, I shut my eyes when his mischievous tongue danced around the tip of my cock, and then he enveloped it entirely and proceeded to draw me deep into the warmth of his mouth.

As I plunged down the rabbit hole, a kaleidoscope of light exploded behind my eyelids, a dizzying swirl of color and disorientation. Suddenly, my concerns felt trivial and meaningless. Only this moment in time mattered, as he swallowed my cock deeper. Surrendering to my delirium, I allowed him to introduce me to a pleasure that was completely new to me. A rich, decadent, forbidden desire, something equally sinful and sweet, erupted from deep within the recesses of my soul, its flavor welcoming, yearning, begging for more.

“Come on, Danny. You’re wound too tight. Lie down and let me ease some of your stress.”

Doing as requested, I allowed him to guide me to his bedroom, where I laid face down on his bed as he removed his robe.

I felt his warm weight settle onto my back, his strong hands kneading the tension from my shoulders as a comforting warmth spread through me. I relaxed while he worked, manipulated and massaged every muscle, feeling the knots melt away with every gentle stroke. With painstaking care, he started at my toes, his hands moving with a rhythm that was both sensual and precise, covering every inch of my body until his devilishly capable hands reached their destination.

I’d had massages before and had been to exotic spas. Hell, I even had a Japanese woman jump on my back one time, but nothing prepared me for what he did next.

So when his wicked hot tongue rimmed my asshole, I thought for sure I would cum all over the bedsheets. The fireworks in my ass had me writhing in pleasure.

That was until I felt his hot tongue slide in.

“Oh FUCK!”

“You like that, baby?” he asked.

A loud growl grew deep within me.

Quickly rolling over, I pinned him beneath me. “I need to fuck you now.”

Not giving him time to answer, I hooked an arm under his leg and lifted it over my shoulder. Tilting my gaze downwards, I locked onto my destination and worked at pooling enough saliva in my mouth before spitting it directly onto his hole. Then, grabbing my throbbing cock, I placed it at his hot entrance and surged forward into the tightest hole ever.

“Fuck! Oh fuck, you’re so goddamned tight,” I gritted out as I began slowly thrusting in and out of what had to be the tightest hole on the fucking planet. Leaning forward, I couldn’t resist those lips. Kissing his soft, full lips, I pounded in and out of his hot channel and for the first time in my life, it felt like everything was as it should be.

The feel, the touch, the intimacy was right.

Nothing could have prepared me for that revelation when I plowed deeper into his hot moistness.

“Oh fuck, baby, you feel so good. That’s it. Clench your hole for me. Make me cum for you,” I moaned, thrusting harder and harder.

“Fuck my ass, Danny. Fuck it deep. Yeah, you like sticking your fabulous cock deep in my tight fuckhole, don’t you? You love sticking your dick in another man’s ass. Come for me. Show me how much you love fucking my tight hole!” Dante yelled, writhing beneath me when I grabbed his hips, pounding as my balls tightened and I spewed my juice into him.

“Danny!”

My eyes flew open and a jolt of adrenaline shot through me, my heart racing like a runaway train as I gasped for air.

“You were moaning in your sleep.”

Scooting away from him, I shook my head as I got up from the couch. Why was I sleeping on the couch?

“Where is Stella?” I asked, looking around the place.

“Digger took her to a movie. She said you were exhausted and for me to let you sleep.”

I ran my hands through my hair, trying to shake off the remnants of the dream. It felt so real, so vivid, that I could still feel the ghost of a touch on my skin.

“Danny, are you okay?” Dante’s concerned voice snapped me back to reality. I realized I was shaking.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lied, not wanting to admit the truth. “Just a weird dream, that’s all.”

Dante’s eyes narrowed, as if he could see right through me. “You sure? You were calling out my name.”

I bit my lip, unsure how to respond. I couldn’t exactly tell him that I’d dreamed of him, of us, in a way that crossed lines I never thought I’d cross. “It was just a dream,” I mumbled, hoping he would drop it.

Dante stepped closer, his eyes searching mine.

“If you say so,” he said, his voice laced with doubt.

I turned away, unable to meet his gaze any longer. “I’m gonna grab a drink,” I said, heading towards the kitchen. I needed a moment to collect myself, to process the torrent of emotions that were flooding me. As I poured myself a glass of water, I tried to make sense of it all. Why was I dreaming of Dante like that? It didn’t make any sense. We were just friends, nothing more. Or at least, that’s what he had told me. But now, everything felt confusing and uncertain. Taking a deep breath, I steadied myself before returning to the living room.

Dante was sitting on the couch, and his eyes fixed on me as I entered. “You okay?” he asked again, his voice soft and gentle.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. I didn’t know what to say or how to explain the turmoil inside me. As I stood there, unsure of what to do next, Dante stood up and closed the distance between us.

“Talk to me, Danny,” he said as his eyes filled with concern. “What’s going on?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out.

Instead, I found myself reaching for him, my hands grasping his shoulders as if to anchor myself.

Dante’s gaze was intense, and I felt my defenses start to crumble. I took a shaky breath, my eyes dropping to his lips as I remembered the feel of them against mine in my dream.

“I...” I began, my voice hoarse and uncertain. “I had a dream,” I finally admitted, my words little more than a whisper. “About us.” I couldn’t bring myself to meet his eyes, afraid of what I might see there.

Disgust? Pity? Desire?

I had no idea what this confession would unleash.

“What... what kind of dream?” Dante asked, his voice careful, as if he were afraid of scaring me away.

I took a step back, needing the space to think, to process. My heart was pounding in my chest and I felt a flush spread across my cheeks. “A... a kiss,” I stammered, feeling foolish even as I said it. “We kissed. And it felt...” I trailed off, unable to put into words the torrent of emotions that had overwhelmed me in my dream.

“And how did it feel, Danny?” Dante prompted, his eyes never leaving mine.

I swallowed, my throat dry, my palms beginning to sweat.

“It felt... incredible,” I whispered, the words torn from me against my will. “It felt like I’d been missing out on something amazing my whole life.” I took another step back, needing to put distance between us, to escape the intensity of this conversation. “I don’t know what it means,” I added hastily, holding my hands up as if to ward off any further questions. “It was just a dream, that’s all. Right?”

Dante blinked, slowly shaking his head. “No.”

“What do you mean?”

“It wasn’t a dream. We’ve been together sexually before.”

“You said we were just friends!”

“We are. Still are.”

Shaking my head, I growled, “No! I’m not gay!”

“Danny, take a deep breath. Let me explain,” Dante said, reaching for me.

“No! Don’t touch me!”

Dante held his hands up, palms facing me, in a placating gesture. “Okay, okay. I won’t touch you. But please, let me explain.”

I stood there, frozen, my heart racing as I processed his words.

“I didn’t lie to you. We’ve been friends since college, Danny. Best friends. And I’ve always respected your boundaries.”

“Then how did we end up fucking?”

“It’s a long story,” he said, raking his hands through his hair. “God, this conversation would be so much easier if you could remember.”

“What do my lost memories have to do with this?”

“Because our relationship is part of what’s missing.”

I stood there, my mind reeling as I tried to make sense of Dante’s words. “My lost memories... You’re saying our relationship is part of what I can’t remember?” I asked, my voice shaking.

Dante’s expression softened, and he nodded slowly. “I know it’s a lot to take in, Danny. But yes, our relationship is a piece of the puzzle that’s missing from your memory.”

I felt a surge of confusion and anger. “Why can’t I remember? What happened to me? And more importantly, why can’t I remember you?” I demanded as my hands balled into fists at my sides.

Dante took a step towards me, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and understanding. “It’s complicated, Danny. And I promise I’ll explain everything, but you need to calm down. This is a lot for you to process, I know.”

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “I’m sorry,” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. “It’s just a lot to take in. I feel like my entire world is shifting and I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

Dante nodded, his gaze never wavering. “I know, and I’m here to help you through it.”

As I stood there, my mind raced back to the dream, the kiss and the torrent of emotions that had brought me to this moment. “I don’t know what to think, Dante. I feel like I’m losing my grip on reality. How can I trust my own mind if it’s keeping secrets from me?” I asked, my voice laced with frustration.

Dante took another step forward, closing the distance between us. “You can trust me, Danny. You’ve always trusted me,” he said, his voice steady and reassuring.

I took a step back, my heart still pounding in my chest. I couldn’t wrap my head around what Dante was saying. “You’re telling me I’ve forgotten our what—relationship? That I’ve lost memories of us being together?” I asked in disbelief.

Dante’s eyes were filled with a mix of emotions, from sorrow to determination. “It’s not just our relationship, Danny. You’ve forgotten a lot of things.”

“What things?”

Dante shook his head. “I can’t tell you.”

“Fuck this shit,” I muttered, shaking my head. My head was pounding. Nothing made sense. I knew I wasn’t gay. I liked girls. I always had. None of this made sense.

“You need to calm down, Danny. I know this is a lot to process, but getting upset isn’t going to help.” Dante’s voice was firm while his eyes locked on mine, pleading for understanding.

I turned away, my mind spinning as I tried to make sense of the situation. “How can I not be upset? You’re telling me I’ve forgotten a significant part of my life and you won’t even give me a hint as to what these ‘other things’ are?” I paced the room, my frustration mounting. “I feel like I don’t know myself anymore. How can I trust my own identity if huge chunks of my memory are missing?” I stopped, turning to face Dante, my eyes searching his for answers.

Dante ran his hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration mirroring my own. “I wish I could tell you everything, but it’s dangerous. I don’t want to overload you. I’m trying to protect you.” He took a cautious step towards me. “I know it’s hard, but you need to trust me. We’ve always had each other’s backs, and that hasn’t changed.” His voice was gentle, his expression sincere.

I stood there, my heart warring between anger and confusion. “I don’t know what to believe anymore, Dante.” My voice cracked, the weight of my uncertainty pressing down on me. “And more importantly, how can I be sure that I can trust you?”

Everyone was lying to me. I was sure of it.

The feeling had been gnawing at my gut for weeks now. My family, my so-called friends, they all wore these fake smiles and spoke with false concern. I knew something was up. I just couldn’t put my finger on it.

And then there was the dream. The one that felt so vivid, so real it left me questioning my sanity. In it, I saw my friend, my supposed friend, their face a mask of deceit, laughing at me, mocking me. I knew then that they were all in on it, whatever “ it ” was. It was a conspiracy, a charade, and I was the only one who could see it.

The dream had me questioning my own reality. Was I going crazy? Was my mind playing tricks on me? I knew I wasn’t gay, but the dream had me second-guessing myself. It was so detailed, so lifelike, that I doubted my own senses. I felt trapped, unable to trust my own judgments and instincts.

As the days went by, I became more and more convinced that something sinister was at play. Every interaction felt loaded with hidden meanings and subtle lies. I analyzed every word, every gesture, searching for clues, for some hint of the truth. But the more I sought answers, the deeper I sank into a quicksand of confusion and paranoia. It was a terrifying feeling, being unable to trust those closest to me, and even myself.

The dream haunted me, lingered in my mind and tainted my waking hours. I scrutinized every interaction, searching for signs of deception. Every smile seemed forced. Every kind word was laced with sarcasm. I felt like I was living in a funhouse mirror version of my life, where nothing and no one were as they seemed.

The conspiracy surrounding my lost memories consumed me, and I became convinced that Dante, my supposed best friend, was the ringleader. I imagined him orchestrating this elaborate charade, manipulating everyone around me. Paranoia crept into my every thought, clouding my judgment and driving a wedge between me and those I once trusted. I isolated myself, afraid of what I might uncover if I stayed too close.

My days were spent in a fog of suspicion and uncertainty. Nights offered no respite as my dreams continued to torment me. In one vivid nightmare, I saw Dante’s face, contorted with merciless glee, his eyes gleaming with malicious intent. My family whispered things I couldn’t quite make out, their lips curling into sinister smiles. I woke up in a cold sweat, my heart pounding, the feeling of dread overwhelming.

Was I truly alone in this world, unable to trust anyone? The thought sent shivers down my spine. Yet, despite the growing fear and confusion, a part of me clung to the hope that there was a logical explanation. Perhaps I was overthinking things, letting my imagination run wild. But the dreams felt too real, too powerful to ignore. I knew I had to uncover the truth, no matter how terrifying it might be.

With no one to trust, I went to the one thing I could. My computers. There was something soothing about typing on the keys, listening to the clicky clacks as my mind focused on the screen before me, the ones and zeros of the dark web welcoming me home. For as long as I could remember, I enjoyed the solitude of the internet. The dark web, with its anonymous corners and hidden secrets, became my sanctuary.

I delved deeper into its depths, searching for answers, for some explanation of the dreams and the conspiracy I felt enveloping me. I became a ghost in my own life, spending my days in front of the computer screen, my nights haunted by vivid nightmares. The line between reality and paranoia blurred as I questioned everything and everyone. I was convinced that the truth lay buried in the digital underworld, and I was determined to unearth it.

As I navigated the treacherous paths of the dark web, I encountered a myriad of conspiracies and secrets. I felt like an archaeologist uncovering ancient artifacts, each discovery leading me closer to the truth I sought. But the further I ventured, the more I realized some secrets were better left buried. I found myself entangled in a web of deceit where nothing and no one could be trusted. Every step I took, I questioned my sanity and the true nature of my quest.

Was I truly alone in this quest for truth, or was someone watching and orchestrating my every move? The thought sent a chill down my spine, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being played, manipulated like a puppet on a string. Yet, despite the growing paranoia, I couldn’t turn back. I had to know, had to uncover the truth, no matter how dark and twisted it may be. My fingers danced across the keyboard, clicking and clacking, as I delved deeper into the heart of the conspiracy, hoping to find answers, but fearing that I might uncover something far more sinister when another memory resurfaced.

The rain hammered against the windowpanes, a furious tattoo against the muted city lights blurring below. My chest, a leaden weight, pulsed with grief so raw it clawed at my throat. The stale air of our cramped apartment clung to me, thick and oppressive, mirroring the suffocating emptiness since he’d been gone.

My dad. The thought itself tasted like ash. A primal need, a desperate hunger to hear his voice one last time, choked me. I yearned for the sound of his gravelly chuckle, the comforting weight of his hand on my shoulder. I wanted to unravel every unspoken word, every hesitant glance, every silent understanding that had passed between us.

Dad always had the answers, hadn’t he?

My dad was a fortress of stoic strength. A man carved from granite and shadow. His words, though few, resonated with a power that cracked through my defenses even as I stubbornly erected them against him. They were the low hum of a powerful engine, perfectly calibrated, expressing more in their precision than a thousand flowery pronouncements. Even my adolescent rebellion couldn’t extinguish the ember of his presence that always burned just down the hall.

Then, nothing.

Almost as if a void ripped into the fabric of my existence. My world fractured into jagged shards of unbearable loss. The cold, slick emptiness of his loss consumed me. Self-loathing, a venomous serpent, coiled around my heart. I hated myself for the chasm between us, for the unspoken words left rotting in the fertile soil of resentment. I built a wall, brick by agonizing brick, around my grief, a fortress designed to protect me from the searing agony.

Until Danika.

My beautiful little girl.

Her presence shattered the illusion, and the truth slammed into me, a physical blow throwing me to my knees. My dad hadn’t wanted to change me. He wanted to be with me. His sacrifices, his stoicism, his fierce, unspoken love—it all unfolded before me, a heartbreaking panorama of a father who loved fiercely in the only way he knew how.

A love so profound it twisted into a painful misunderstanding.

He never hated me.

He loved all of me, even the parts of me that terrified him, the parts I myself had buried. That love, that agonizing, beautiful, incandescent truth flooded me. Tears, hot and relentless, streamed down my face. The rain outside seemed to weep with me.

I wanted to scream, to claw back the lost years, to beg for forgiveness he’d never needed.

Then a sound.

A movement behind me. A slow smile, hesitant and fragile, bloomed on my lips as she quietly approached. Without a word, I scooped her up, cradling her against me. Her small sigh, as her head rested on my shoulder, cracked my soul open anew. But this time, the pain wasn’t solely grief. It was a symphony of love, loss and the desperate, aching hope of healing. Together, under the relentless assault of the storm, we stood. Her small body nestled against mine.

“Let me tell you about the greatest man I ever knew,” I whispered, my voice thick with unshed tears, and I poured forth the story of my dad, every detail, every memory—a desperate act of devotion to the man I finally understood and to the love that had almost broken me.