Dark Passengers Series

Dark Passenger: The End of Him

A doomed feeling swallowed me throughout my late adolescence. The words he’d used about the destination for my afterlife left me hollow and empty. Hell. At the time in the limited world I knew between church, school and family, hell turned out to be the worst place for any of us. We strive for salvation and everlasting life.

Vince proved to be a catalyst, giving me some hope that what the man said in his last moments following every encounter may be true, but not as devastating as he stated. Despite being a smart kid, my vision lacked depth and distance to fully comprehend what this man did to me beside put me into some strange sexual frenzy that would ultimately end with suicidal thoughts.

Then the man did his worst.

Another sticky summer day and I’d just come from my room to watch television. My little sister came screaming into the house for my mother. The first words, “Bill tried to touch me,” were followed by my mother quickly ushering my sister into another room. Through the closed door, I couldn’t hear it all, but I knew enough. I knew what she said.

I don’t know how long it took before I took action. But I put a plan into motion — one I discussed with Vince and he approved.

The last encounter, I insisted on a jack off. I refused to suck his cock. This time, we were behind the barn. His wife didn’t know I was there. I’d been in the backwoods behind his house stalking and waiting for him to feed the horses. He came finally.

“Hi Bill,” I said.

He jerked, a little startled. “You scared me! What are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d come by,” I said, nonchalantly. Soon, we were at our usual routine, only I kept making him jerk me. Eventually, I came, shooting a teenage load all over the ground. Then he urged me toward his cock.

“No,” I said.


“Remember all those times you told me I was going to hell?” I paused, probably for dramatic effect. “It’s you who’s going to hell and I’m going to make sure you get there a little early.”

He started to say something, but I interrupted him.

“You ever touch me or my sister again and I will kill you.” I voice was cold and not as firm as I’d hoped. It cracked a little. “You leave your house unlocked and even if you do lock it, my mom has a key. I will come in during the middle of the night and I will kill you.”

At this moment, his eyes got large, his mouth was open and he stood there, his cock out and slowly deflating.

“Then I will tell everyone — the police, your wife and your church — what you did to me. So don’t touch me or my sister again.”

I turned and walked into the thick woods that separated our homes.

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One Comment


  1. I’m happy you took advantage of that opportunity and confronted him. The regret of unresolved suffering is a time-consuming one, fraught with questions of self-worth (I experienced it after being raped when I was 21 y.o., my first experience performing oral and receiving anal); I haven’t experienced the type of confrontation you did, but I imagine that it helps bring a conclusion to that suffering.

    The combination of sex and suffering is particularly frustrating, as something that feels good gets intertwined with something purely hurtful (not in a good way).

    I agree with the anonymous comment that it’s easier to take a stand on behalf of someone else than for oneself. Especially with introversion, it’s easy to question oneself and one’s own worth.