It was like waking from a dream. The television droned on about another body found. A suspected serial killer in the Venice Beach area. The reporter, Kim something or other was giving all the gory details, “A sixth victim was discovered in a room at the Venice on the Beach Motel. So many similarities with the other victims lead investigators to believe that a serial killer was on the loose.”

I blinked my eyes, trying to will myself awake, ‘Where the hell am I?” I wondered. This sexy reporter, I swear I’ve seen her in porn movies, went on, “No witnesses again, and just one knife wound to the chest. This is Kim Oliver, KISZ Action News Twelve.”

I faded off to sleep again but was awakened by the sound of the door. Still half awake, I saw him take his hoodie and sunglasses off. “Who are you?” I tried to ask. I know my lips were moving, at least I thought they were, but there was no sound. It was as if I were dreaming it all. 

He looked at me with a pouting smile as if he were my mother about to check my temperature. Sitting on the bed by my side, I felt his hand on my cock. I tried, again without a voice, to tell him that I was not gay. With another of those pouty smiles, he stroked my cock. I was confused and already hard. Why was I hard? Hell, why was I naked?

“I want to taste your cock,” he whispered, “Would that be okay?”

I tried without success to protest. I just couldn't get the words out. He gave me that same sweet smile. Watching the look on my face. I could see a trail of precum leaking from my cock and over his hand. ‘No one would know,’ I thought.

“It's okay. I know it's hard to talk,” he whispered, still gripping my shaft, “ Just blink your eyes twice if you want me to.”

I looked up at the ceiling and my eyelids closed twice. It's as if I had no control. I didn't watch him but felt the warmth of his lips kiss the head of my throbbing cock. Even warmer when he took my entire length into his mouth, sucking me down his throat. 

Was I enjoying this? I wondered, looking back down to watch him take my cock in his mouth,  so warm and lovingly. He slowly took my length in, sucking gently. I found myself trying, without success, to push my hips up when he took me in. ‘Getting a blowjob from a guy doesn’t make me gay. Does it?’ Kept going through my mind. I wanted to touch him, stroke his hair. My hands wouldn’t move. 

He turned to smile at me, cum running from his lips. Had I cum? It was all too dreamlike. Opening his mouth, he showed me the result of his efforts. His tongue cupped a puddle of pearly white liquid. Another smile and then he swallowed. 

“You taste so good,” he whispered in my ear, “I’ll want another helping soon. Now you need to rest.”

He pushed a syringe of clear liquid into an IV bottle that hung above my head. His hand stroked my hair and he smiled a wickedly sweet smile. I could not gather my thoughts. Everything seemed so scrambled. I can’t remember falling asleep, but I woke only seconds later.

He sat at the foot of the bed watching television. I must have moved or made a noise because he turned to smile again. I could tell that I was naked and that my cock was erect. My body felt rested but I was very hungry. Why was I so hard? The drapes were closed but I could tell that it was late in the afternoon. Don’t ask me how, but I could tell.

That reporter girl was on the screen again. She gave an update to the Seaside killer. They had given him a name I guess. All of his victims were found in hotels near Venice Beach. It seemed that he left them in the room, an IV needle still taped to their arms. The authorities released information that they had found traces of a strong muscle relaxer and, oddly, Viagra in the blood of the victims. 

A long blade, thought to be similar to a filet knife was used to puncture the left lung, severing the plural artery. The suspect had been trained in some form of medical art. The precision of the wound was just too accurate to be a coincidence. The victim, always male, would bleed into his lung, essentially drowning in his own blood. It would take only minutes and with the level of drugs in their system, there would have been no struggle. 

Her voice was somber when she warned residents of the area to be careful, “This is Kim Oliver, KISZ, Action News Twelve.”

I swear I’ve seen her in porn recently. She was pretty and such a great actress. No doubt, it was her. She could suck a dick like a cum hungry whore and make it look so real. My hunger grew vocal and I could hear my stomach growl. Again, he gave me that temperature smile. I was becoming frustrated. I couldn’t move nor speak and my dick was painfully erect. 

I guess he could see my frustration. That stupid, pouty smile again, “I’m sorry. If I feed you, you will choke. It’s the muscle relaxers.”

My eyes narrowed. I began to realize my situation. Muscle relaxers and a raging hard-on. I could feel my heart beating. My cock jumped with the strength of the blood pulsing through my body. Fear began to seize me. His smile changed from a sweet pout to something different, something evil. I saw the knife in his hand. A long, thin blade. 

He saw the fear in my eyes, “This?” He teased, looking at his knife, “Don’t worry about this. It’s not going to hurt.”

I don’t know if I had passed out or just lost the next minutes of time in the cloud of fear, but when I returned, he was sucking my dick again. The pain had faded as had my fear. He was facing me this time, his blue eyes piercing my own. Deep breaths and calmness filled my mind. His warm mouth soothed my cock.

A glance at the drapes told me that night had fallen. I had fallen asleep after all. Looking up, I saw the drip bag was nearly empty. He continued to gently suck my dick. I seemed to be floating peacefully on a cloud with this man. Pulling my cock from his wet lips, he whispered, “Come for me one last time.” His words dripped like venom from the fangs of a snake. 

I tried to resist but it was a useless effort. Nothing worked. My legs and arms failed to obey my mind’s commands. He could see my struggle and smiled again, “That's right. Fight. It’s so much better when you fight me.” My cock was deep in his throat again. 

If I couldn’t fight him physically, then I would try to deny him my cum. This proved to be a waste of energy as well. As with my previous orgasm, I felt nothing. He let my cock fall from his mouth, still hard and throbbing with the beat of my heart. His tongue once again showed me the evidence of his ministrations. Another puddle of cum pooled in the cup of his mouth. 

“Thank you,” he whispered after swallowing, “You’ve been the best so far.”

Crawling up my body, he kissed me on the lips. “Go to sleep, my baby,” he whispered. I felt a prick on the left side of my chest. The blade, no doubt. I felt my chest start to become heavy. He stood with a tear in his eye and turned away, a bloody knife in his right hand. Fear gripped me. Darkness began to flood the room.

I woke, soaked in sweat, with a start. My wife lay beside me, “Terry, are you okay?”

“Fuck,” I swore out loud, “The same fucking dream.”

She snuggled against me, “Go back to sleep. It’s only a dream.”