Save Me
"Donnie Darko," I try out his name on my tongue, and it feels and sounds alright, more than alright, sending a quiver down my spine. Like some kind of superhero, I think, smiling at the thought. Maybe he died to save the world...
I'm masturbating to his photo in the paper. "Boy killed by renegade jet engine," the headline reads. I read most of the article, but my hand just kept slipping up under my school uniform, so I gave up. I'll read it later, about this boy who's going to make me come from beyond the grave.
Maybe that's his super power, I think, laughing a little, all the while never breaking eye contact with his slightly grainy photo and becoming more and more intense with my fingers at my slippery core.
As my breathing grows faster, the passing thought that I'm so terrified of enters my brain and won't leave. Maybe there's more of my father in me than I'd like to admit. Something drops in my stomach, but I don't stop. I can't stop. I pinch my left nipple through my uniform and thrust faster, knowing that I'm close.
I moan, my eyes fluttering closed for a second or two, but when I open them, I see his eyes, intense and dark, staring back at me. With a gasp, I come, muscles squeezing my fingers, breathing hard. I'm almost afraid to blink, afraid that the vision will leave me.
"Donnie Darko," I whisper, like a reverent prayer this time. A thank you. You may be a superhero, Donnie Darko, but I'm not sure you can save me from my fate.
The vision slowly fades as the heat dries from my body. I look down again at the newspaper; a splash of my cum obscures a part of the article I haven't yet read.
I smile, swipe it off the page as best I can with my already damp finger, and bring it to my lips.