Richard Matheson - Hunted Past Reason

His fingers pulled out and Bob made a sound of fright as Doug was suddenly behind him, clutching at his sides with digging fingers. “And now,” he said, sounding aroused. “Now, Bobby boy. The pièce de résistance.” His laugh was like a bark. “Although you can’t resist my piece, can you?” Bob twitched as Doug kissed his shoulder. “Not that you’d resist at all. I don’t have to tie you to this tree. If I untied you, you’d be on your knees in a second, begging for my cock inside you.”

As he spoke, he pressed the head of his penis between Bob’s buttocks and began to push. The pain began immediately. “Doug, don’t,” Bob pleaded desperately. “For God’s sake, stop this.”

“Too late, Bobby boy,” Doug said.

Bob caught his breath with a dry gasp. “Oh, goody.” Doug sounded delighted. “The head just popped in. Mm .” He writhed against Bob. “And now—” he said.

With a snarling sound, he jammed himself against Bob’s body, entering him all the way. Bob cried out in anguish, his head thrown back, his closed eyes flowing tears as he felt the tearing of tissues inside himself.

“Now I just move back and forth, back and forth,” Doug said. He started kissing Bob’s neck and shoulders, grunting with excitement. “Oh, God, take it, baby, take it.”

Bob couldn’t speak. He could only utter feeble sounds of pain as Doug slowly sodomized him, groaning, grunting, licking the back of Bob’s neck, saliva running off his tongue. “Oh, God,” he muttered. “God.”

“Did you know Nicole talked about you all the time?” Doug said, breathing hard. “I think she wanted to suck you off. You think Marian wanted to suck me off? Ooh, I bet she did, I bet she did.”

Bob’s face became a rigid mask of resistance to the pain. It has to end, it has to end, he kept telling himself.

Doug’s breathing became more rapid now. “Oh, Bobby boy, this feels so good . It’s like the hottest, tightest pussy in the world , the world , the world .” Each repetition of the word was accompanied by a spasmed shove inside Bob, making him moan in pain.

“Wouldn’t you have loved a nice, hot, drunken, bisexual orgy with the four of us?” Doug said, gasping for breath now. “Wouldn’t you have loved to watch Nicole and Marian eating each other while you and I were sixty-nining next to them? Oh, yeah, you would, you’d have loved it—loved it.”

“Oh, my God,” Bob murmured. Doug’s penis was beginning to swell, increasing the pain more with each second. “I’m gonna cum inside your asshole, Bobby boy,” Doug said, panting for breath. “I’m gonna fill your asshole with hot, white cum. You’ll love it, Bobby boy. You’ll love it.”

A few seconds later, Doug cried out dementedly, his fingers gouging into Bob’s hip flesh, his body jammed up tight against Bob as he had his orgasm. Bob felt the hot liquid spurting into his rectum. I’m going to kill him, he suddenly thought. I don’t care what I believe, I’m going to kill the son of a bitch!

When Doug had finished coming, he drew back. Bob winced and gagged at the feeling. Then the pain was gone, replaced by a burning ache inside him. He felt Doug’s semen running down the back of his legs. Fuck philosophy, he thought with mindless hate. Fuck the meaning of life. Fuck afterlife and reincarnation and all of it.

As soon as he could he was going to murder Doug.

Doug kept him tied to the tree while he dressed leisurely, humming to himself, “I could have danced all night.” He seemed at peace now, totally relaxed. Sated, Bob thought with trembling rage. Like a well-rutted animal.

“You know, I don’t think I planned on this right from the start,” Doug said, stopping the song, “I think it just came up.” A laugh burst from him. “There I go again,” he said, imitating Ronald Reagan. “Can’t control those double entendres. Naughty, naughty. That nasty old subconscious.”

After he’d dressed, he untied the rope and released Bob. Bob’s legs felt limp at first, almost giving out beneath him. Then he straightened up and, bending over, pulled up his pants.

“Don’t you want to douche first?” Doug asked lightly. “Might get pregnant otherwise. That would be embarrassing.”

Bob didn’t speak. He stared at Doug who was sitting with the golak lying across his lap.

“What’s the matter, afraid I’ll attack you?” Bob asked coldly.

“I presume you don’t mean sexually,” Doug said.

Bob only stared at him.

“Well…” Doug gestured with his hands. “Never can tell. You might go nuts. After all I’ve violated the sanctity of your virginal asshole.”

Bob felt his stomach muscles tensing in. Should he make a run at Doug? He hated him enough to do it. But he knew, his brain still intact and functioning, that Doug could kill him with a single slash of the golak. He remembered the deep, flesh-exposing cut he’d made on the doe. He’d have to bide his time.

Carefully, he sat down on the ground, making an involuntary sound of pain.

“Hurts a little, doesn’t it?” Doug said as though sympathizing. “It’s like that the first time. You’ll get used to it.”

Bob’s muscles seemed to tighten of their own accord. The first time? Was Doug planning on doing it again? He’ll have to kill me first, he resolved.

Doug chuckled. “I can see what you’re thinking, Bobby. You can relax though. You aren’t that good a fuck. There were guys in the reformatory who could screw you under the table.”

“I thought you beat up the ‘big guy’ in the reformatory so they’d leave you alone,” Bob said.

“I did,” Doug said. “And they did.” He grinned. “I didn’t say I left them alone, though.” He squeezed his groin with a sensual sound. “Got so I really liked it. In the mouth, in the ass, you name it. I tried to talk Nicole into letting me fuck her ass but she wouldn’t do it. Too bad. She might’ve liked it.”

He picked up the golak and pointed it at Bob. “Sure you wouldn’t like to stay and have more fun with me?”

“Fun?” He glared at Doug. If I had a gun, he thought, I’d risk my soul to blow him away. Right now.

“No, I guess not,” Doug said pityingly. “You’re as straight as a fucking arrow. It’s Marian or no one, right?”

Bob didn’t answer, trying hard to think how he could do something to get the advantage over Doug.

“Besides,” Doug said with a mocking grin, “it’s karma, isn’t it? There are no accidents, you said so. Which means you probably raped some poor slob in the nineteenth century, or earlier. Maybe you were the guy who buggered Jesus. And now you’ve paid the price, right? An ass for an ass.” He threw his head back with a coarse laugh. “Pretty good. That just came out o’ me by accident. An ass for an ass. That’s marvelous. I’ll have to remember that.”

He laughed again. “Which means it was my fucking karma too.” Another laugh with his head thrown back. “Jesus Christ, I did it again. Fucking karma. That’s what it was. Fucking karma. I had no control. What did Malkovich say in that movie? ‘It’s out of my control’?” He laughed again. “Oh, God, I’m really rolling now.

“You know,” he went on as though contributing to his half of an amiable chat, “this really shouldn’t surprise you, considering that you’re such a cynic about this life and see injustice everywhere.”

“I never saw it in you,” Bob told him somberly. “I trusted you. I thought you were my friend.”

“And now you’ve found out that I’m actually your karma. How about that? Is that injustice or what?”

Bob didn’t answer.

Doug sighed. “I could use another cup of coffee. I’ll make some after you’ve gone. With brandy, of course.”