He awoke suddenly, soaked in perspiration, his blond hair hanging in his eyes, wet and limp. It was the dream again. The house.
Lilacs.
Yet something this time was different.
Someone had invaded his dream. Someone almost caught him in his secret place.
Maybe God had finally found him--discovered his secret sin? But of course God must already known and was it really a sin to merely dream about it? How can a man control his dreams?
The young man turned in his simple single bed and glanced up at the crucifix above the headboard.
Dear Jesus, I did not intend to sin.
"Our Father who art in Heaven," he began, finally praying himself back to sleep--returning to the realm of his devil.
"Christopher."
The sound of someone calling his name startled him to wakefulness. His blue eyes flew open and remained wide and round with fear. He was somewhere dark and he could hear voices whispering in that darkness, making comments, talking, but he could not quite catch exactly what they were saying.
"Christopher," the deep, masculine baritone voice repeated, "I am waiting for you."
He closed his eyes tightly against the darkness and desperately prayed for this dream--if it was a dream--to end.
"It is not that easy, Christopher."
"Our Father..."
"Yes, my son?"
"Our Father who art..."
"You called and I am here."
"Damn it!" Christopher screamed, rising to a sitting position in the dark, his eyes trying to penetrate the black cloak of musky air about him. "I am not praying to you. You are not God!"
"But I am your father," the baritone voice answered.
"You are the Father of Lies and nothing more!"
"I am the father of your desires, Christopher. The creator of the best part of you. Surrender to your desires. Embrace them. Enjoy them. Become one with me, my son."
"That these abominations come from you I have no doubt!" Christopher cried out. "But I will not break my vows! And will never draw close to you!"
"You are already closer than you think."
Christopher leaped to his feet and whirled about. Out of the darkness stepped a man. No. Although masculine in appearance, he was not a man. Christopher told himself that he must never make that mistake.
"Become one with me, my son."
He smiled, his lips full and sensual. His heavily muscled form was tightly sheathed in deep red flesh, a long, slender serpentine tail extending from his spinal column to the ground Christopher could not see in the darkness. His feet were not feet but cloven hooves. And from his forehead, protruding through the thick black locks that flowed down his back two sharp horns protruded--wicked, evil looking things. None of this, however, is what most demanded Christopher's attention.
"You see," he smiled, "you want to become one with me. Your eyes betray you."
"Get thee behind me, Satan!"
The Devil laughed.
"How wonderfully biblical of you. Now don't forget to cross yourself."
Christopher did.
"Now, do you feel better? Come a little closer then and let us be one."
"Go to Hell!"
The Devil laughed again.
"But I am in Hell, my son, and yet your Hell is deeper than mine. Don't you see that? I accept who and what I am, but you deny yourself. You torment yourself. You have condemned yourself to a Hell far worse than mine."
"Liar!"
"Relax," Satan said. "Calm down. I may be a liar, if I denied it I would only be lying, but man is the greatest liar of all for he is constantly denying the truth of existence, the truth of himself. You lie more than me, Christopher. It is true. Tell me that it is true. Tell me about the Hell that you are in. Tell me about the agonizing nights alone in the dark...the yearning...the aching. Tell me the truth, Christopher. You pride yourself in being truthful. Is not your life a living, agonizing hell of desire?"
"Yes. Yes, it is." Christopher broke down, his chin dropping to his white robed breast. "You torment me day and night."
"It is not I who torments you, my son. You torment yourself. Be yourself. Relax. Accept. Surrender to your desires and be free. That is why I am here...to free you. To free your spirit, Christopher. Come. Be one with me."
The young man's eyes again strayed to the demonic beauty of the creature who stood before him--visually caressing his great, erect phallus and full, taut testicles.
"Become one with me, Christopher."
Satan's voice became a sweet siren song, deep, comforting.
"Come closer. Come to me, my son. Surrender to your desires. Take what you want. Take what I offer."
Like a somnambulist Christopher took three steps forward, his eyes riveted on the imposing member of the Lord of Lust.
Satan, now only inches away from the young man, lifted his strong hand and easily undid the long white robe so that it slipped from Christopher's wide fair shoulders and floated to the unseen ground beneath his feet. His body was smooth and pale but sturdy. His buttocks firm and almost girlishly rounded. His manhood rigid with desire.
"I..." Christopher began, then found himself unable to form words.
"Quiet," Satan whispered. "Speak not unless it is of things befitting. Tell me. What do you want?"
"To be one with you," Christopher whispered, his voice pitched so low that even Lucifer with his great spiked ears almost failed to hear him.
"How?"
Christopher looked up into the face of the Devil with a questioning expression.
"How do you want to be with me?"
"I...I..."
"Say it, my son. Declare your desire and declare it with pride."
The struggle of emotions was obvious on the young man's almost pretty face, but after a few moments he looked back up into the black eyes of the Devil, thrust his chin forward and spoke firmly.
"I want to f___ you with my mouth. I want to s___ on your c___."
"My son, my son," the Fornicator said consolingly, wrapping his muscular arms around the naked young man and pulling his body close in an embrace, "I am proud of you." With his hand he tilted the young man's face up towards his and smiled down at him. "How easy it was to say what you were thinking. Was it not?" Satan bent his head forward and touched his lips to the young man's. The kiss felt hot. The young man's lips were on fire, but he was not in pain, and when the demonic tongue slipped in past his lips and explored his mouth Christopher almost swooned. "A kiss is but a prelude. F___ me now. F___ me with your mouth. I long to feel your sweet lips around my hard, aching c___."
His strong hands on Christopher's shoulders, Lucifer gently but firmly pushed the young man down to his knees before him.
Directly in front of Christopher's face was the demon's hard, up-standing member virtually demanding his attention.
His heart was beating wildly in his chest and his breath was coming in short gasps. He felt that at any moment he might pass out. He felt dizzy, light-headed, but his hands slid up those muscular thighs before him, over the firm, full sack of the Fornicator's testicles. Encircling it with his fingers, Christopher slid his hand up and down the shaft of that great hard c___ before him, pressing his face against the demon's hip, nuzzling Lucifer's hardness with his face, his lips. When his tongue began to slide around the demon's b____ his hands slid behind to caress and grasp the Devil's tightly muscled buttocks. Up and down he let his tongue slide along the shaft of that great c___, around and over the soft head then back down again.
"F___ me, my son. F___ me with your mouth."
He hesitated for a moment, his lips pressed against the head of his master's c___, then, with tears in his eyes, he let his mouth slide down over the length of the demon, caressing with moist lips and tongue the whole way. There was not even the slightest inclination to gag as the head of the Devil's penis slid against his palate and into his throat, and Christopher let the c___ enter his throat while he pressed his face into the black pubic hair around the base of that member.
The young man held Satan's ass tightly in his hands as he sucked upon his iron hard c___, his mouth sliding up and down the length of him, up and down, up and down, Lucifer's member moving in and out of the young man's mouth again and again. Christopher became more frantic, his passion mounted in geometric proportions until he felt that surely his chest would burst open with the beating of his heart.
And then Satan came.
The Fornicator growled deep in his throat and let out a cry, baring gleaming white teeth and sharp fangs, throwing his head back and thrusting his hardness as far down Christopher's throat as he could.
The flow of semen into Christopher's mouth was not cold as he had expected but hot, almost molten lava, yet it did not burn him. He became one with the liquid fire of Satan's loins. His entire body felt enlivened and he too came as he continued to draw from the Devil every last drop of the bountiful flow that erupted from his great muscular body.
Breathless, Christopher finally pulled back, the demon's member slipping out of his mouth but still pumping its hellishly beautiful essence to strike the young man's face, anointing his lips.
Christopher embraced the Devil in his kneeling position, his face pressed against the hollow between his massive thigh and abdomen, and yet hard c___ still issuing its flow of semen, some of which ran down the side of that wicked hardness and to just within a fraction of an inch of Christopher's mouth so that his tongue could leisurely reach out and draw yet more if it to quench his sexual thirst.
The young man stayed like that for what seemed an eternity, gasping for breath, praying that his heart would soon calm down, tears streaming from his blue eyes down Satan's thighs.
But whether they were tears of intense joy or abysmal sorrow, Christopher did not know.
This had been no mere act of fornication.
In a wicked parody of the holy sacrament, he had consumed the essence of Satan...
And loved it.
When the young man again opened his eyes he was alone in the dark, but no longer was it an impenetrable darkness. Dimly he could see the austere room about him and all that he embraced was his single flattened pillow, soaked with his salty tears. His sheets too he could feel were damp, but not with tears.
"My God, my God," he cried.
But he could say no more. Nor could he pray for forgiveness. He was beyond forgiveness. He had not just lain with another man. He had committed an act of unholy fornication with Satan himself. That it was only a dream, if in fact it was only a dream, mattered not in the least. He had given into the temptations of the Devil and his deed was nonetheless foul for it.
He was beyond redemption.
He was a sinner, a breaker of vows. A traitor who had betrayed the Lord. There was no creature on earth lower than he.