The Dawn of Darkness (Part 17)

The next time was so much easier and all for one simple reason.

Rochelle looked like Katie.

Or how Katie would have looked if she had been allowed to mature another 4 years. Rochelle was medium in build, with dull blonde hair and a set of crystal blue eyes. Bryan met her at a rally against some new set of rules that the college wanted to enforce which had been deemed constitutionally unfair. I could've given a fuck, but this was something important to him. Rochelle was there by herself, lending her support but clearly alone. She bumped into Bryan on the way out the door. She laughed. They always do.

Bryan was struck speechless by the resemblance. Her smile, her laugh, her boring hairstyle all fit. She was athletic in build as Katie had been. She seemed uncomfortable in her own skin. Blushing, she asked Bryan if he would let her buy him a coffee for bumping into him. Bryan shuttered. He hadn't been able to drink coffee since Shawna. He suggested ice cream instead. Rochelle agreed.

They bought cones with two scoops and strolled down the street, talking about the issues brought up at the rally. Turns out Rochelle was rather passionate about political aspects of just about everything. She was quite brilliant and Bryan spent most of the night staring at her, impressed. At the end of the evening, he walked her back to her dorm and she gave him a kiss on the cheek while shoving a slip of paper with her phone number on it in his pocket.

It took him a week to call her. He'd pick up the phone and then start screaming at me. "You're going to fuck this up!" he'd yell and bash the phone against our head. I never said a word. By early Friday night he'd convinced himself that I was either long gone or deep in hiding. Her voice on the other line was filled with a surprised joy. She started to laugh. I had to cringe.

They met for a midnight showing of some French movie and held hands in the darkened theater. She wormed her body closer to his and nuzzled into the crook of his arm. Bryan was elated. When she lifted her head to kiss him, he leaned down and ate it up. She was quite a good kisser. She let her hand drift our crotch and brush against his steadily growing hard-on. Bryan was a little taken-aback. I smirked in knowing.

Bryan would meet her for dinners and movies over the next 2 months. They would make out in the movie theater, and Rochelle eventually brought herself to stroking Bryan to orgasm, her hand vigorously rubbing the outside of his pants. But this was the extent of their physical connection. Bryan would take her home every night and kiss her good-bye, leaving it at that. Rochelle would linger on the step of her dorm and stare as Bryan trotted off.

Back in our own room, he would pace, talking to me.

"I know what you're thinking. You think I'm a pussy because I haven't fucked her yet. But there's a good reason I haven't. You're just going to hurt her. The minute I get her naked, you're going to come out and fuck with her. You're going to talk me into letting you play and you're going to hurt her like you did Katie. Katie and...." The next part was always spoken at a chilling whisper. "And Shawna."

I said nothing. I let him have his madness, to choke himself with it. He would pace and scream and threaten for an hour or more then take a hot shower, rubbing one out while cursing. Those never felt any good. They were angry whack-off sessions, the cum flowing hot and bitter from the tip of his dick. They were Bryan's form of punishment. Of me and of himself.

Rochelle finally decided she'd had enough of the casual petting. She declined Bryan's invitation to go see a play one weekend. He'd been crushed. This was the first weekend that they'd spent apart in nine weeks. He'd gone anyway, inviting the gay guy from down the hall, the one who clearly had a crush on him. Bryan wasn't very perceptive when it came to people. He was neither aware of the crush, nor of the orientation. Josh had giggled excessively when he was invited.

So had I. They all giggle, Bryan, I thought. Why don't you see that?

When they'd returned, Bryan excused himself to go to sleep, turning down Josh's offer of cocktails in his room. When he'd opened the door, he was greeted with soft candle light. Rochelle was lying naked on his bed. Her nipples were tiny and pink. There was nothing but a small strip of pubic hair between her legs, which were spread and bent at the knees. One of her hands was between them, a couple of fingers were buried.

She sat up in surprise. "You're so quiet when you come in!" she'd exclaimed. She was blushing, straight down to her chest. Bryan backed up against the door. His mouth was hanging open. He started to shake his head.

"What's the matter?" she'd asked. She stepped off the bed and slowly approached him. Her hands went to his belt and started to undo it. "It's time, Bryan. It's been long enough and it's time."

My thoughts exactly.

She'd dragged him by the waistband towards the bed. He'd stumbled and fallen on top of her. She'd let out a little "oomph!" of air and then wrapped his arms around his neck and drawn him in, kissing him hungrily. He resisted at first and then relented. He ran his hands over the length of her body. When he'd brought them up to her breasts again, he'd waited for them to be brushed away. His touch was light, hesitant, assuming the worst. She'd put her hands over his and guided him to grab harder. Even more blood had flowed to his cock.

She'd flipped him over and mounted him, pulling his shirt off of his head. She'd inched backwards and started to take down his pants and boxer shorts. She'd licked her lips when she watched his cock spring high off of his body, pointing skyward. Her lips closed over it and her mouth worked it for a few strokes.

There was no indication of her next move. Swiftly, she'd released his cock from her mouth and jumped onto him. There was no application of a condom. This was the first time that Bryan had ever gone in bare. His eyes rolled up into the back of his head. She'd thrust down on him about three times when he'd shot his load.

Fuck. I'd shot mine right there with him. That was some good pussy.

She'd jumped off and run into the small bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Bryan shot up into a sitting position. His heart was thudding in his chest. He got up and walked slowly over to the bathroom door. He rapped gently at it and called Rochelle's name. Silence came back at him. He started to pace the room.

"What do I do?" he asked. "Why won't she come out?"

Reality was that she'd only been in there for a couple of minutes. When the door cracked open and she peeked her head out, Bryan sighed and rushed over to her.

"Did I do something wrong? Why wouldn't you answer when I knocked?"

She smiled bashfully. "I was cleaning up." The statement made sense. To me at least.

"Cleaning up what?" Bryan eyed her suspiciously.

"Your.... you know!" Rochelle blushed deeply and made a half-hearted gesture downwards. Bryan tilted his head in confusion. "Your cum!" she spat. "Jeez Brian! What did you think I was talking about?"

Bryan shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. The next part was something that even I couldn't've predicted.

"How often do you do that?" he asked her.

"Do what? Have sex?" Rochelle was eyeing him carefully. She took a tiny step backwards.

"Let a guy cum in you. Fuck him with no protection." Bryan was serious. I'd never seen this side of him before. He advanced a full step towards her. She tiptoed back until she was up against the bathroom door.

"Not often!" the tone of her voice rose in defense.

"Well, how often is 'not often'?" Bryan put his hand to her cheek and rubbed along her cheekbone. She narrowed her glance at him.

"I don't know what you're getting at, Bryan. Are you calling me some kind of slut or something?"

Bryan eyed her cautiously. He ran his hand down over her body and thumbed one of her nipples. It stiffened under his touch.

"Just seems a little dirty, don't you think? I always thought you were one of the nice girls. Even the sluts put a condom on me first. I don't know..." his voice trailed off.

He was looking down at her feet now. Her toenails were well manicured, painted a bright shade of red. "And that shit looks terrible." He pointed down to what he was looking at.

"My toenails? You know what?" She was pushing against his chest now, with a light insistence. "I think I want to leave now."

Bryan refused to budge. "I'm not allowed to have an opinion over how my girlfriend looks?"

"Your girlfriend? I didn't know that we had made that agreement!" She was breathing harder, like a small animal backed into a corner. Her eyes were darting back and forth around the room. She was looking for an escape.

"Oh." Bryan's face looked crestfallen. "You don't think of me as your boyfriend?" His arms went to his sides. His head fell forward.

She surveyed him carefully. "Well, in a sense, I guess so. It's just that we never really talked about it, you know? Never made anything official. And right now, quite frankly? You're starting to seriously creep me out."

"Yeah, Patrick does that." Bryan took a step back.

What, fucker?? I'd screamed. I didn't have anything to do with this! You told me to shut up, to go away! You told me that I wasn't allowed to play with them anymore!

Rochelle shook her head as if she was trying to dislodge some kind of logic. "Patrick? Who's Patrick?"

"He's the one who makes me do bad things. The bad thoughts. They're all his." Bryan was edging towards the door to the room. There was a Target bag hanging from the doorknob. A poorman's trashcan.

Oh, no you don't! Leave me the fuck out of this one, Bry! This shit is all yours today!

"They've always been all mine," Bryan said aloud. Swiftly he grabbed the plastic bag and came at Rochelle, working it over her head. She screamed for a second until Bryan punched her in the side of the head. He worked her to the floor, straddling her back like a cowboy getting on his horse. She tried to claw her way along the carpet. One hand reached outward, one hand clawed at her throat. After a couple minutes of struggle, her body collapsed to the floor. Bryan flipped her over and felt for her pulse. There was none.

Dude! What the fuck was all that shit about?

"You're a figment of my imagination, Patrick. My pawn. I've played you from the very beginning." Bryan was reaching down and hauling her body to the bed. It thumped on the mattress like the dead weight that it was. He stuck a finger in her pussy. "Mmmm. Still warm."

I killed the last one, you know. You screamed like a little girl. You bitched and moaned about how I shouldn't hurt her.

"Yeah. But who had control of the body? Who's always had control of the body, Patrick? You might think you're the one who wants it, but you're controlled by me. It's me, Patrick..." his voice trailed off. He was stroking his cock to attention and licking his lips, looking at Rochelle's dead body.

"It's always been me."