Date: Thu, 6 Oct 2011 18:19:53 +0100
From: Mr Skinny <mr.skinny@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: Geeks Get Hot  -  10-Brad

Disclaimer:

The following piece of fiction contains explicit descriptions of sexual
acts between consenting adult males aged over the age of 18. Please do not
read further if the subject matter might offend you. If you are aged under
18 (or 21 if that is the law in your state or country) please leave this
site without reading further.


Patronising things you should read:

Fictional characters cannot get hurt and do not feel pain. Real people can
and do. Actions have consequences, and the author does not in any way
condone suicide, self-harm, self-mutilation, or any form of self-abuse as a
coping mechanism.


Note from Author:

This part of the story is told by Brad.  To read Abby's version of events,
or chapters from the point of view of other characters, go back to the main
`Geeks Get Hot' folder.


Geeks Get Hot  (part 10) - Brad


It was the day after Thanksgiving and I was still at my parents' house. I
had gone home to be with my family as usual. It was actually the first time
I'd been home all semester and I had been looking forward to it for a
while, but once I was there, I began to realize how much I missed college
and the freedom it offered me, and all of my friends, especially
Anthony. Although we had only been sharing a room for a few short months,
it already seemed like I had known him all my life, and I probably regarded
him as the closest friend I'd ever had.

Lying there beneath the covers of my bed in my old bedroom, having just
woken up, I smiled to myself as I worked out I was halfway through my stay
and would be back sharing a room with Anthony in just two days' time. I
couldn't wait! This time at home was seriously starting to piss me off now,
with my parents demanding to know every detail about my life at
college. Not just ordinary things like how my classes were going, how well
I had done on my tests so far, and what my GPA was, but personal things
that I was sure other kids didn't have their parents ask them.

And every time I gave them an answer, my mom looked at me as if she thought
I wasn't telling her everything. Well, maybe that was true, but what did
they want me to say? "Mom, Dad I have an awesome roommate, so awesome I
have a major crush on him and dream every night about jerking off his
perfect uncut dick for him"?!  The truth would hurt them so much, and
they'd be disappointed in me. Again. They'd had enough setbacks and
disappointments off of me to last them their lifetimes.

I sighed heavily lying there warm and cosy in my bed. Now was not the time
to be worrying about these things. I had plenty of time to man up and tell
my parents. It wasn't going to kill me if I didn't do it soon.

I scratched an itch on my leg and my arm accidentally brushed against the
morning wood that remained obstinately hard in the briefs I had slept in. I
had been lying there in bed with my thoughts and had almost forgotten I was
hard, it just seemed so natural it had been there since I woke up. I
figured there were worse ways to begin the day than by enjoying the morning
wood that I'd been provided with, and that didn't look like it was about to
go down of its own accord, so I fetched my lube from out of my secret
supply hidden at the very back of my wardrobe under a heap of old sweaters
that didn't fit me anymore. On my way back to my warm comfortable bed, I
stopped by the rucksack I had brought back from college with me and
collected a certain magazine from out of it. It was a fitness magazine
filled with suggestions for workout routines, but more importantly, filled
with pictures of muscled, half-naked men demonstrating how effective the
workout routines were.

It was a long time since I had masturbated with a magazine rather than the
help of the internet, but I had left my computer in my room at college (it
really wasn't worth dismantling and bringing back home for the short few
days I would be here), so I had no other option. Besides, there were
pictures inside that I had torn out of other magazines that I didn't want
to leave lying around the room for Anthony to maybe stumble across. Not
that I expected him to go poking through my things, but if he happened to
open my drawer to borrow some lube or something, he might not be able to
resist a quick look at what other stuff I had in there. And my private
pictures were not for sharing!

I turned to the page of the magazine where I had hurriedly tucked the
pictures while packing. Robert Pattinson from the `Twilight' films and
Daniel Radcliffe from the `Harry Potter' films stared back at me, both
dark-haired and English and not exactly smooth. I had seen advertisements
online detailing they were going to be centerfolds of this girls' magazine
and was compelled to go out to the store and buy myself a copy each
time. They were dressed just in their underwear, posing in typical modeling
shots, and the sight of them got me so turned on.

I pulled off my briefs and got back into my bed, my big hard dick crying
out now for some attention. I placed the torn out centerfolds next to me on
my pillow and traced my finger down the outline of Daniel Radcliffe's
treasure trail, wishing I was stroking down it for real. My left hand
massaged my balls and then, after squeezing some lube into my hand, I lay
on my side with my head on my pillow, my face inches away from the
pictures, and began to jerk myself off properly, my lubed-up hand slipping
easily up and down the whole length of my shaft.

As I concentrated on the pictures of the hot English actors, my thoughts
turned to a certain other dark-haired English guy, and then I closed my
eyes and let the image of a naked Anthony fill my mind, his treasure trail
running down from his belly button to his thick bush of dark brown pubes,
his low-hanging balls swinging gently beneath his perfect uncut dick that
was growing from soft to hard, getting far larger and curving gently as it
grew. I brought my other hand round to my shaft and began jerking myself
off two-handed, my left hand above my right hand, my strokes getting faster
and more and more vigorous. I could hear my breathing increasing in pace
and getting louder and then could feel the build-up beginning in my balls.

I let out a little moan to myself and then, before I could stop myself, a
big loud moan, as I suddenly found myself on the brink of cumming and
unable to hold it in. I tried to roll onto my back to catch my cum on my
chest, but it was too late and I felt myself beginning to shoot while still
lying on my side. I gave a couple of gasps and another low moan, conscious
of having to keep as quiet as possible in case my mom, dad, uncle, aunt or
cousin Abby overheard what I was doing.

As I came down from the high of my orgasm I slowly opened my eyes, lifted
the comforter and peered down at the sheet. Yes, I had made quite a mess!
Oh well, not a lot I could do about it now! I wiped the last bit of lube
and cum off my hand on the sheet as well, figuring it wasn't going to make
the mess much worse than it already was. I gathered my pictures back up
together and stowed them back inside the pages of the magazine, and was
just about to swing my legs out of bed to go put it back inside my rucksack
when my door flew open and my mom entered.

"Mom!" I yelled in shock, dropping the magazine and pulling the comforter
up to my chin making sure my completely naked body was covered. "Haven't
you heard of knocking?!"

"Oh honey, I've been seeing you naked since you were a baby, you've not got
anything I haven't seen before. Besides, it's late and you have an
appointment with your counselor today. Did you want me to let you sleep in
and miss it?"

"No, it's just..."

"Good. Now hurry up and take your shower and get dressed. Oh and open a
window, it smells in here again."

My mom bustled back out of my room. I breathed a sigh of relief to
myself. And then an even bigger sigh of relief that she hadn't burst into
the room 3 minutes earlier when I was in the middle of...  Thankfully, that
was something that had never happened to me. (Well, not by my mom
anyway. In fact, Anthony, that one time at college, had been the first and
only person to walk in on me masturbating.) I had had a few near misses
though. All comes from not being allowed a lock on my bedroom door. Even
before I'd done what I'd done that time I hadn't been allowed one. And my
parents would never allow me one now, not after I'd tried to...

I shook my head, banishing the thoughts from my mind. What was it my mom
had said? It was late and I had an appointment with my counselor to go
to. That was right! I had made an appointment to see my counselor while I
was home for Thanksgiving. I had gotten used to not seeing her every couple
weeks like I used to do, but it would be nice to talk to her about how
things were going at college.

I busied myself with taking my shower, getting dressed and having
breakfast. I also remembered to open my bedroom window to let the smell of
fresh cum out. Then it was time to borrow my dad's car and drive downtown
for my appointment.

My counselor's name is Alison. (We are on first-name terms!) Talking to her
started off a big deal for me, and I was overly conscious of her
profession, but over the years I have gotten used to seeing her for
counseling, and now I don't think anything of it. Tons of people see
counselors.

As usual I arrived five minutes early, and as usual I sat in the little
waiting area and read the notices on the wall. There were some new ones
advertising some clinic where you could get hypnotized to help you quit
smoking. Then Alison called me through to her office and offered me a
coffee, and as usual I refused. I sat on my usual couch and then she turned
to a new page in her writing pad, picked up her pen, smiled at me, looking
at me over the top of her glasses, and started asking me how I was finding
things at college.

I was happy to talk to her at great length about my courses and how good my
test scores were so far, and about my new friends Charlie, Chris and
Anthony, and the fun and X Box tournaments we had had, and...

"You see," Alison said when I paused to draw breath. "I told you college
would be fun and there was nothing to worry about."

I remembered one of the sessions we'd had before I'd left, where I'd ended
up in tears worrying about people not liking me again.

"Why don't we do an exercise now," Alison continued. "I'll give you a piece
of paper, and you write down as many compliments that people at college
have given you as you can think of."

Alison was fond of these exercises. Truth be told, I did actually kinda
like them. Writing down my feelings helped get bad thoughts out of my
system, and writing a list of happy memories or good points about myself
helped to make me think positively about myself for a change. Like this
exercise for example, having to think and remember compliments that had
been paid to me at college meant I had to concentrate on good things people
had said to me, and reinforced to me that I had qualities that other people
admired, and that I wasn't just an ugly friendless geek that nobody liked.

"Right then," Alison said once I had thought of and written down all the
compliments I could think of. "I want you to keep this page and next time
you feel a panic at the possibility of meeting new people or people not
being friendly, read it through and remind yourself that people at college
like you and have complimented you because you're smart..." she took the
list and started reading down it out loud. I gulped, remembering what I had
written, not thinking she would actually look at it. Usually, she didn't,
she just left me with the piece of paper to take home with me.

"...and because you've got a kind smile, and because your jokes are funny,
and because you've...got a big dick...um..." her voice trailed off
embarrassed and I felt my cheeks coloring.

Oh crap!  What must she think of me now?!

She let out a little laugh, obviously deciding that keeping things
light-hearted was the best course of action.

"Well lucky you Brad!"

I smiled at her sheepishly.

"Now, is there anything else that you'd like to discuss or are worrying
about?"

 "Um..." I hesitated, suddenly feeling an urge to confide in her about
having a crush on Anthony, but unsure of how to phrase it.

"Actually, there is something that is on my mind," I said slowly.

"Well tell me Brad. You know I am always ready to listen and help if I
can."

"So...there's this guy..." I began, feeling myself blushing a little again,
"and I think I like him..."

"A guy...?" Alison said a little puzzled. Then she flipped back through my
notes a few pages. "Oh yes, I remember now. You did tell me you liked guys
not girls. Yes, carry on."

"Well, I like him. I like him a *lot*."

"Why does that worry you? You should be glad you have accepted your
sexuality enough to get feelings for another guy."

 "Yes, but I'm worried he might find out I like him. He might not like that
I have a crush on him."

"Is he gay?" She asked.

"No," I sighed. "He's straight. Completely unobtainable."

"Ah, now I see your problem. But how might he find out you have a crush on
him, unless you tell him yourself?"

"I don't know. I guess he wouldn't, but sometimes people notice these
things don't they?"

"Not as often as you think. Brad, tons of people get crushes. Whether
they're gay, straight, bisexual, curious, confused, whatever. It's part of
human nature. Sometimes they are short-lived, sometimes they last a
while. Nearly always they are about somebody unsuitable or
unobtainable. It's a part of life. My guess would be as soon as you meet
somebody else that you are attracted to, this crush will vanish into thin
air."

"How do I deal with it until it does vanish though?" I persisted. "It's
driving me crazy. I think about him so often, I imagine doing more stuff
with him, I..."

"Wait a minute, *more* stuff? Have you done anything with him before?"
Alison interrupted me.

"Well we sorta um..." I suddenly felt a little awkward and shy saying what
I was saying to Alison. "We sorta watched porn together this one time, and
um...well, we um...you know..." I lost my confidence and my voice trailed
off.

"You masturbated together?" Alison asked.

"uh-huh, and this other time we got drunk and kinda both felt we needed to
um...m-m-m-masturbate," I stammered embarrassedly, "and so...um...we
did...and I...well, I enjoyed it and..."

"And you've been hoping it might happen again?"

I nodded.

"And you're sure he's straight?"

"Yes. At least I assume he is."

"You assume?! Has he actually told you he is?"

"Well, no, but..."

"Does he have a girlfriend?"

"No, he..."

"Ever mentioned having an ex-girlfriend back in high school?"

"No, he's never..."

"Ever discussed girls with you at all?"

"Well not really, but..."

"Ever mentioned an actress he crushes on, or even a female pornstar he
finds hot?"

"No."

"Hmm...Well then you don't know for 100 per cent certainty that he is
straight. And if he was willing to masturbate with you..." her voice
trailed off as if she was thinking. "Then again," she said, "lots of
straight guys experiment, and lots more will see nothing weird with
masturbating to porn with a buddy. Some guys I'm sure see masturbation as
just something ordinary that all guys do and will just do it whenever
without making any big deal over it. Especially if they are sharing a room
or something. Does he know you are gay?"

I shook my head violently.  "No and I don't want him to know either. He
might not want to be friends with me at all if he knew that."

"Well, Brad, this is difficult. I'll hold my hands up and say I don't know
what to say to give you the best advice. You don't want him to find out
that you have a crush on him, but you want to fool around with him. You
want to fool around with him, but you don't want to tell him you are
gay. It's difficult and this is one thing where it is easier when you are
straight, because if you were to tell a girl that you liked her, what is
the worst that could happen to you? She might laugh or be unkind about it,
but that would be all. Whereas if a guy tells another guy that he likes
him...he has to be very secure with himself and there is always a risk
involved. A risk of being outed, or of him taking offense to you, or, and I
hate to say this, but unfortunately in the world we live in, it's a real
possibility, there is also the chance of being attacked or beaten up for
being gay. And very often you can't tell who the people who are going to
react badly are until after you've told them."

She sighed deeply.

"I guess the best advice I can give you is to do what feels right for
you. Don't rush into anything, and be ready for disappointment somewhere
along the line, because there will always be rejections and disappointments
when it comes to crushes and relationships. And I'm sorry if you think that
advice sucks, but crushes aren't straightforward. And especially with the
added complication of you being gay as well."

I felt a little disappointed at her not having a better answer for me. And
then it was the end of my allotted time. She got to her feet and walked me
to the door of her office.

"I am glad to have seen you today Brad. You have made real progress with
your confidence and other issues. Don't dwell on this guy you have a crush
on, and come back and see me when you are home from college for your
Christmas vacation if you need to talk."

I walked slowly to my dad's car, thinking about the session and what Alison
had said. She was right, as usual. There was no need for Anthony to find
out that I liked him in a different way to us just being friends.

As I was driving home though, my mind moved on to think of the other things
Alison had said, almost to herself while she had been thinking, and for the
first time it dawned on me that it was a little strange that Anthony had
never discussed girls with me. We had been rooming together all semester,
and I still didn't know any actresses or singers he thought were hot, or
any girls in his classes that he found attractive. But, no, he must be
straight. He didn't walk funny, or speak in a camp way, or have a song by
Britney Spears or Beyonce as his cellphone ringtone. And I had several
times caught him checking out the table where the cheerleading team usually
ate in the cafeteria after finishing their practice. He was always looking
over to their table, which is the one behind where the swimteam sit to eat.

I parked the car in the driveway of my parents' house and sat in the
driver's seat a little while longer thinking what I *did* know about
Anthony. He was a virgin, I knew that because he had told me. He was
shy. He was cute (for sure he was cute! (In a geeky kinda way!))

My mind drifted off into a little fantasy where I confessed to Anthony that
I found him attractive, and he said he felt the same, and then asked
me...no, *begged* me to fuck his brains out, to take his virginity, and
then...

I found myself rock hard, sitting there in the driver's seat of my dad's
car. The urge to jerk off was immense, and I slowly rubbed at my aching
boner through the material of my jeans. In my imagination, Anthony was
lying on his back on his bed in our dormroom, twisting his head from side
to side deliriously, his eyes closed, his glasses crooked, his mouth wide
open and letting out moans of passion and pleasure as my hard eight inches
slid in and out of him.

I unzipped my jeans and rubbed frantically at my dick through my briefs. My
dickhead was starting to glow with heat from the friction of the cotton
rubbing against it. I closed my eyes and concentrated on my fantasy, at
Anthony squirming and moaning with delight beneath me as I thrust in and
out of him. I imagined leaning forward to kiss him, our lips touching for
the first time, our naked bodies joined in the most intimate way possible.

There was a sudden wetness in my briefs and I gasped, half in shock, half
in ecstasy. My dick continued to pump out shots of cum and I felt it
spreading in my underwear, oozing into my black pubes. My hand, now
unmoving, but still gently resting on the bulge of my now softening dick,
felt sticky. I withdrew it and zipped my flies back up. I smiled, feeling
completely satisfied. That had been one intense orgasm, fueled, I'm sure,
by the thoughts of Anthony and what it might be like having sex with
him. Losing our virginities together.

I sighed to myself. That would just be perfect, losing my virginity to
Anthony. Both of us experiencing sex for the first time with each other,
just as both of us had experienced being jerked off by another person for
the first time with each other.

I shook my head, dragging myself out of the fantasy world I had been
imagining. I opened the front window a crack to let out any fumes of cum
that might otherwise have stayed in the car's interior, and got out of my
dad's car. The jerk-off session I'd just had had put me in a really relaxed
good mood, and I hummed happily to myself as I let myself into the house
and ran up the stairs to my bedroom. I planned to give Anthony a call and
see how he was enjoying having the room to himself for a change, partly
because I thought he might be lonely with not many people staying on campus
to talk to, and partly because after the fantasy I had just had about us, I
felt a closeness to him, and an urge to hear his voice.

But first, I had to get myself cleaned up. I deposited my wet and sticky
briefs in the dirty washing basket and fetched a clean pair. Then I sponged
myself clean with a wet facecloth and dried myself with a bath towel.

I headed back into my bedroom and picked up my cell to call Anthony. Ooh, I
had gotten a text message while I was busy washing myself.  And it was from
Anthony. Wow! Just as I had been thinking about him! I eagerly opened it to
read what he had written...

I sat down slowly on my bed, feeling as if I had been kicked in the guts. I
could sense tears welling up in my eyes, making the screen on my cellphone
go blurry as I re-read the message.

" Hi Brad! Guess what? I'm no longer a virgin!!!!!!!! Couldn't wait til mon
2 tell u I'm 2 excited! b4 u ask yes it was fantastic! Hope u not 2 jealous
it will b ur turn soon I'm sure ;) "

Well he certainly sounded excited about it. I tried my best to feel pleased
for him, my best friend, at finally succeeding in achieving what every
young horny virgin guy is desperate for, but I couldn't. Only minutes
before I'd been fantasizing about being the one to take Anthony's
virginity, about us losing our virginities together, sharing that
experience and getting that connection, unlikely though it would be, there
had still existed a possibility that it could happen, but now, I knew for
certain that it never could. Somebody had beaten me to it.

I felt the tears coming thick and fast now, not really understanding what I
was crying for. I guess the loss of what could have been. I stretched out
face-down on my bed and wept into my pillow. Anthony had obviously met
somebody else forced to stay at college over the Thanksgiving holiday. A
cheerleader or a gymnast staying on an athlete's scholarship, or (more
probably) some girl geek studying in the library, feeling just as
sexually-frustrated as he was. Or maybe that sophomore Barbara-Ann that he
was so friendly with. It didn't matter who it was, it hadn't been me, and I
felt as though I had just been dumped, even though we had never been
together in the first place.

Alison had warned me to expect disappointments, but I hadn't expected any
so soon. Suddenly I felt a wave of pure anger sweeping through me, and my
tears of loss and disappointment turned to tears of fury. Anthony had had
sex with somebody. Now I was definitely the only guy on the whole of our
corridor not to have gotten laid yet this semester. Because nobody found me
attractive. I was just an ugly skinny geek, no matter what anybody said, or
however many compliments were paid to me, the fact remained I just wasn't
somebody people wanted to have sex with. Life wasn't fair!

I continued to cry. In this position, curled into a ball with my pillow wet
from my tears, it felt just like one of the many afternoons when I was in
high school, where, completely exhausted from a full day of torment, I
would just throw myself onto my bed when I arrived home, and cry the
injustices of the day out of my system. In fact, I had spent so many
unhappy tear-filled occasions here in this room, in this very position. My
eyes went to my bedroom wall where I had tally-marked a record of how many
days I had been happy in high school (all twelve of them), which at the
time had seemed like recording an achievement, but now only served to
reinforce how seldom I had been happy. Then I looked down at the patch of
carpet right next to my bed which was all faded from where my parents had
had to clean the sick stains out of it after my failed attempt to leave
this unforgiving, brutal world.

My bedroom used to be the one place in the world I felt safe, the one place
where I could control what and how I felt, and keep the bullies out of my
thoughts. Now, being here and crying again, it felt like a return to a part
of my life I thought I had left behind, an intense depressive
claustrophobic prison of bad memories and unhappiness. I had tried to end
my life in this room for fuck's sake!

I glanced upward and the ceiling span, my chest felt constricted and waves
of nausea swept through me. It felt as though the walls of my bedroom were
moving inward, making the space ever-smaller. They were going to crush me!
I was trapped! Trapped in this miserable place. A panic attack of the like
I hadn't experienced for a long time engulfed me and I surrendered.

I don't know how long I lay there, dizzy, sweating, and struggling to
breathe, feeling as if I might throw up at any moment, but eventually,
after I concentrated hard on controlling my breathing, the attack subsided,
and immediately I was filled with feelings of anger again. I hadn't had an
attack, or felt so low for a long time. Hardly at all since I went to
college. What was wrong with me?! Why couldn't I control myself?! Why had
Anthony's announcement affected me so badly?! It was this room! This
fucking room! Now that I had experienced a bit of normality at college, I
couldn't go back to staying in this room exactly as it was when I was in
high school with all its bad vibes and bad memories. Just being here
reminded me of how unhappy my life had been.

My blood suddenly boiled in anger at my former tormenters. If it hadn't
been for them, I could have been a normal teenager. I could have turned out
like Anthony and Charlie and Chris and all my other new friends at
college. Maybe then I would have the balls to come out. Maybe then I
wouldn't just be crushing on Anthony, but would have the courage to flirt
properly, or suggest we get off together more regularly, or even see if he
wanted to have sex with me.

I wish it had been me he'd lost his virginity to! I really do wish it had
been! It should have been, I feel a connection with him like I've never had
with anyone else. Oh why did he have to be straight?! Why did he have to
find somebody else? WHY?!

I hit my fists into my bed with fury, and as I did so, heard my mom's voice
yelling up to me that dinner was ready. I really didn't want to go
downstairs and have to be sociable and eat, but knew that I would be in
trouble if I didn't go. My aunt and uncle and cousin Abby were guests in
our house, so my parents expected me to be polite and sit and eat as a
family with them all, much as I would have preferred not to, to just grab
myself a sandwich later.

I made my way downstairs, my mood still subdued, a cross between being
angry and being upset. I had made the mistake of re-reading Anthony's text
message as I had picked my cell up off of the bed where I had thrown it
down, and it had stirred up all of my feelings yet again.

Why did I have to be gay? My life would be so much easier if I were
straight like everybody else.

I sat at the table and my mom ladled me out a large bowlful of
delicious-smelling turkey stew she had prepared for us all.

"So Brad, how did your counseling session go?" She asked me.

I grunted "OK" in reply, hoping she would take the hint that I wasn't in
the mood for conversation, but she didn't, and pressed on with more
questions, until finally she asked "So, Brad we haven't gotten round to
asking you about your love life yet. So are you dating anyone at college at
the moment?"

It was a question I had been expecting to have to answer at some
point. After all, relatives are always wanting to know if and who you're
dating. I just wished it wasn't today that it had come up, I wasn't sure
how much of an interrogation I could take. I realized my mom was still
waiting for a reply.

"No, I'm not," I answered, hoping that would be the end of the
discussion. But my mom had other ideas.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yes!" I snapped, my patience thin. "I just told you! Enough with the
questions already!"

"Are you sure you don't have your eye on some nice pretty little girl in
your math class?"

Does my mom never let it rest?! Frustrated at her questions, and by the
fact that it wasn't that easy, that being gay prevented me from just
approaching somebody in my math class I found attractive and asking them
out, I found myself yelling my reply at her.

"I JUST SAID! NO!!! I'M NOT DATING!!!"

"Alright honey, no need to shout, I understand. You haven't got a
girlfriend and you're not dating. Yet."

I doubt I will be dating ever, given the way I look.  And even if I did, it
wouldn't be a girlfriend I'd want, but a boyfriend, so, no, I don't think
you do understand. Now shut the fuck up with all these intrusive questions
and let me eat!

Why would I never have the courage to say my thoughts out loud?!

"But there must be some pretty girl you've seen in one of your classes or
perhaps in the library, or the cafeteria, or the college bookstore that
you'd like to ask out..." My mom was saying.

I lost my temper completely, threw my spoon down and got to my feet. Fueled
by the recent revelation of Anthony's that he had succeeded in losing his
virginity and the disappointment that that announcement had had on me,
along with the dissatisfaction I felt with my own burdensome sexuality, I
found myself really yelling in anger.

"NO!!! THERE'S NO GIRL I HAVE A CRUSH ON, I DON'T HAVE A GIRLFRIEND, I'M
NOT DATING, AND I'M NOT GETTING LAID!!! NOW JUST STOP FUCKING ASKING ME
ABOUT IT!!!"

I left the dining room slamming the door behind me and stamped up the
stairs to my bedroom, fresh tears pricking at my eyes. Were they of fury or
upset or frustration? I couldn't tell, but knew I was going to make my
pillow wet again when I made it to my room! I slammed my bedroom door
behind me with all my strength and sank onto my bed, the tears starting to
flow. I put my head in my hands and wept for the injustice of my being gay
and of how complicated that made things. And then I was just crying harder
and harder, unable to stop the flood of tears, even if I had wanted to.

Downstairs I heard the dining room door opening and then my dad's voice
thundering up the stairs toward me. A kid always knows they're in trouble
when their parents address them by their full name, and with my family
there was no exception.

"BRADLEY NICHOLAS GRIFFITHS!!! HOW DARE YOU SWEAR AT YOUR MOTHER LIKE THAT!
NOW YOU COME BACK DOWN HERE AND APOLOGIZE RIGHT THIS INSTANT!"

"FUCK OFF!" I screamed back through my sobs. I laid my head on my pillow
and cried harder and harder, curling my body up into a fetal position.

Some time passed, and I had just reached that stage of crying where the
tears have stopped falling and you are basically just hiccupping little
sobs, when there was a soft tapping on my bedroom door, followed by Abby's
voice saying "Brad, may I come in?"

The enormity of what I'd done suddenly hit me. I had never shouted or sworn
at my parents before, not even when I was at my lowest ebb in high school.

"They're mad at me aren't they?" I asked Abby, turning my head to look at
her. She gazed down at me, compassion clearly showing on her face, and I
felt her place her hand gently on my body just below where my ribs ended.

"Brad, who cares if they are?!" she said. "Your parents, your mom
especially, need to adjust to you becoming an independent adult. And if
that means you answering them back and shouting a few times, it can't do
them any harm. I'm more worried that something is bothering you so much
that you ended up losing your temper so quickly in the first place. It's
not like you at all - I don't think I've heard you shout like that
since...well, actually, I don't think I've ever heard you shout like
that. You know you can tell me if you have something on your mind. I know
I'm not your counselor, but if there is something wrong, maybe I could help
you. I promise not to ever tell your mom or dad if you don't want me to."

Suddenly I was tempted, very very tempted just to confess to Abby, to tell
her that the root of my problems was that I liked guys instead of girls. It
felt at that moment like I needed somebody in my own family to know. I
wiped some of the wetness off of my face, and opened my mouth to tell her
that I was gay, with a major crush on my roommate who had just gotten laid
by some other person, and that I was jealous because I wanted that person
to be me, and how complicated my life was because I wasn't straight like
everybody else...

But the words stuck in my throat and I found I couldn't say what I wanted
to, I just dissolved into a fresh bout of tears.

It was no good, I couldn't tell her. Wasn't ready to come out to her. What
if she did tell my parents, even though she had promised not to? What then?
They might throw me out! They might disown me! I couldn't take that
risk. Not today. Not after how I'd been feeling today so far. I took my
glasses off, and wiped the tears from my eyes, a little embarrassed to be
crying in front of her. I was nineteen after all, not a baby!

I looked up at Abby again and she looked down at me expectantly. I looked
down at my bed and then back up at her. I found myself confessing to her
that I had had some news that had upset me and put me in a bad mood, and
then the questions, the fucking interrogation from my mom at the dinner
table had just pushed me over the edge.

"All those questions...all th-th-those f-f-fucking questions...I just
snapped," I explained. "I don't really understand it, and I can't explain
it. I've been s-s-so happy these last few weeks at college, but now coming
back h-h-here...Suddenly I don't feel happy anymore. It affects me...being
here...in this house...in this room...I hate it here, Abby. I only just
realized it, but I do. This room used to be the only place I felt safe. Now
it's just full of bad memories, a reminder of how my life used to be before
college," the words were pouring out of me, and I let them flow, realizing
I was confessing to her exactly how I felt.

"I was so looking forward to seeing Mom and Dad after all these weeks away
from them. And I love them both so much, but they are always on my case and
worrying about me, wanting to know everything that's happening. I just
can't wait to leave and go back to college again. I'm so much happier
there...If I was still there I wouldn't have gotten this upset over such a
small thing, but here, the smallest thing affects me so much...and I can't
help it it's this room, this FUCKING ROOM! ..." I ended almost yelling
again in my frustration. It was true, it was being in my bedroom with all
its history of the darkest period of my life still present that was turning
the small amount of disappointment and unhappiness I'd felt from reading
Anthony's text message into an overwhelming pit of misery.

Then Abby asked me about the check marks I'd drawn in red on my
cream-colored wall, and I found myself telling her. No bullshitting, just
telling her exactly what they symbolized.

"And Brad," she said after I had finished my explanation and we had sat in
silence for a few seconds while she looked around herself at the rest of my
bedroom. "Is that where..." her voice trailed off and I saw she was
pointing at the faded patch on my bedroom carpet, where the color had been
bleached out after my parents had washed the sick away.

"Yes," I said, my voice cracking as I tried to make a joke of it, "I got me
a permanent reminder of my little um...episode."

"Why didn't you just move your bed on top to cover it?" she asked, her
voice sounding horrified. "Look, let's do it now, you and me together."

She got to her feet and attempted to move my bed, not realizing it was
fixed permanently in its position. She gave up and then sat down again, and
when she next spoke, her voice sounded powerful. Angry almost.

"Right well how about I speak to your mom and dad and tell them you are
unhappy with your room as it is, and maybe I can persuade them to let you
redecorate it. That way all the bad memories will be painted over, and you
will get a new carpet so you won't be constantly reminded about what you
did." She suddenly brightened as she thought the idea through
properly. "Hey, if they agree, it could be your Christmas present from
everybody. How about that?"

That would be awesome, actually. I had never considered it before, and
wouldn't have had the courage to ask my mom and dad to do it, but thinking
about it, it seemed the perfect solution to getting rid of all my bad
memories. It would be like tearing up one of the pieces of paper I'd done
one of Alison's exercises on, or burning an old journal where I'd written
down all my unhappy feelings. An escape from the past. A fresh start. A new
room where I would feel happy and safe again.

"Would you really do that for me Abby?" I asked her, with hope in my voice.

"Sure I would. I love you Brad, don't you ever forget that. All of us
do. Even your mom and dad. Their over-protectiveness is just a bad way of
them showing it. Speaking of which, you probably ought to go apologize to
them for swearing."

"Oh crap. I forgot I did that," I gasped.

"It's okay - I figure they've heard the word `fuck' before. Just maybe not
from your sweet angelic lips, until now! Hey you'd better go wash your face
first though."

I agreed. My eyes felt puffy from crying, and my face was a little wet
still. I went along to the bathroom and after taking my glasses off, I
sponged my face carefully using a flannel. Replacing my glasses I stared at
my reflection in the mirror.

Would anyone ever find me attractive enough to have sex with?

I sighed and shook my head, then walked back to my bedroom. As I pushed the
door open, Abby got up off of my bed where she had been sitting, ran over
to me and hugged me tightly. I let her pull me close to her, for once not
minding the body contact, needing to feel loved by somebody at that moment.

"What was that for?" I asked her after she eventually let me go so I could
breathe again.

"Oh, just...like I said before, I love you. And I do. And I always will. No
matter what. You can trust me Brad. I'd like to think you could tell me
anything. Anything at all that was bothering you or worrying you. And if
you ever were to tell me something that you were afraid I would judge you
for, I can promise you I wouldn't and I would still love you afterwards
just as much."

I felt again an urge to confide in her, and opened my mouth, meaning to
tell her the truth, that I was gay...

But then remembered that you could never be sure how somebody would react
until after you had told them. Despite her kind words, if she were hit with
that particular revelation, she might not love me anymore. She might be
horrified or disgusted that I wanted to sleep with guys rather than
girls. She might immediately going downstairs and tell my parents. And I
definitely wasn't ready for them to know. One day I would tell them, but
not today. Not after the emotional rollercoaster of a day I had had
already.

I smiled sadly at Abby and just said simply, "I know. And thanks, that
means a lot to me." I was telling the truth too. It wasn't often that
anybody had said that they loved me and were on my side. If I could be 100%
sure that she would accept me and keep my sexuality a secret I would tell
her in a heartbeat. But I couldn't be 100% sure. And I wasn't about to take
a risk.

My emotions suddenly overwhelmed me at the thought of Abby's supportive
words. I asked her to tell my parents that I was sorry about the swearing
incident, explaining that I felt I needed to be on my own for a while
longer. She left the room and I lay back down on my bed. My cell vibrated
as I did so, announcing the arrival of another text message. Once again it
was from Anthony. I was almost afraid to open it, but forced myself.

" meant to say b4, hope u having good time, but lookin 4ward to having u
back here. The room is 2 quiet without u "

I re-read it. It was quite a sweet message actually and my mood brightened
immediately. I was cheered by the thought that he had been thinking of
me. I decided I had done enough wallowing in self-pity for one day. He had
chosen to tell me about getting laid for the first time. Trusted me to know
that it had been his first time, and shared one of the most personal
experiences a person has. I should be glad he considered me such a good
friend and felt comfortable enough with me to do that. Every guy dreams of
losing their virginity as soon as the word enters their vocabulary! He had
done it, and I should be pleased for him! Even though it wasn't with me. I
sent Anthony a text back saying

" don't worry I'll be back soon to fill the room with my out of tune
singing. Won't be so quiet then ;) congrats on the other thing too! I'm so
jealous :'( "

I forced myself to congratulate him on losing his virginity. It was the
right thing to do. It would be my turn soon, I resolved. Realistically it
probably wouldn't be with Anthony, but there was nothing to stop me from
carrying on fantasizing about tapping his plump juicy ass with my big dick
in the meantime.