Date: Thu, 26 Jul 2001 13:28:29 -0400
From: Rory Muldowney <st_rory@hotmail.com>
Subject: My Second Time part one

Disclaimer: This story should only be read by adults and those claiming to
be adult.  This story for all intensive purposes is true, though some
events have been changed and others exaggerated. Names and places have been
changed, but I hope you enjoy.  Please E-mail me at St_Rory@hotmail.com for
any comments.


My Second Time
By Rory M.


I'm not sure how to start this story, so I guess I'll start at the
beginning.  The very beginning.  As you'll find out, I'm Rory and this is
my story, it span's probably the most painful part of my life, but I'm not
going to explain in depth all 19 years.  I'm your average Upper Middle
class, Catholic School boy.  I come from a family that is as dysfunctional
and humorous as they come.  But then you have to have a sense of humor
growing up Irish and being swapped around from your drunken mother to your
grandparents and then back to your mother and stepfather, right?  I'm the
only son, also.  I have three sisters and am the only one to send on the
family name.......that dream lasted for 15 years, until everyone found out
I wasn't the fathering type.  Yes, I'm gay, why else would this story be
here? But that isn't all I am.....I think.  I grew up pretty much in the
Heart and Lung facilities and ICU at Children's Hospital of Philadelphia,
as did my little sister Gwen, but we'll get to her later.  We could be the
poster children for the Surgeon General's adds on not smoking or drinking
during pregnancy, but such is life.
	Well, without much else I think I'll start in the present.  I'm 21
going on 55, isn't life grand?  I guess you could say I'm your average
weakling.  I've already demonstrated myself as sickly, and standing at
5'6"' and 120 pounds doesn't help much either, but I was excused from gym
anyway.  My looks aren't that spectacular, though I've been called
adorable.......it makes me feel like a lost puppy.  I've got auburn curly
hair and green eyes.  My skin tone could be described as albino, with some
freckles to add character.
	 I'm finishing college this fall, I took a semester off my
sophomore yeah and it's come back to haunt me, if you will.  But it's one
semester and I don't have to go through the monotony of walking on
graduation day.  I go to Vila Nova, outside of Philadelphia.  It's been
good to me, but it wasn't that inspiring socially.  A couple thousand upper
middle class, drunk, catholic, white kids every where you looked.  It made
me miss the diversity of where I went to high school.  Funny, I hated high
school, but now I think back on it as at least an interesting melting pot
in the middle of New Jersey.  Now, I'm sure you're wondering when I'm going
to get to something interesting and sexy.  Well, honestly, you might have
to wait a while, I have to jump back a bit to really start.
	I figured I guess when I was 13 that I had no interest in girls, I
didn't lust for guys either, not until a routine asthma attack and a young
medical student.  Nothing happened, of course.......but that doesn't mean
he didn't make it into a few dreams every few nights.  I guess I realized
after 6 months of masturbating and wet dreaming to Dr. Stud that I realized
I was something different.  Within a year I knew that there was no turning
to the other side, I was hopelessly gay.  Fact is, it mortified me.  My
Stepfather, who at the time I loved dearly, my grandparents, my peers, and
especially church didn't give me a secure feeling about my sexuality.  I
was down right scared and ashamed of it.  I was an altar boy, I was nice to
my sisters, I did my meds, why me?  I slipped into a depression for most of
my freshman year of high school.  I didn't understand myself and I was
going through the biggest identity crisis in my life.  My only comfort was
my little sister, Gwen.  Well, little isn't the best way to put it.  We're
only 11 months apart in age, our mother was a busy woman.  She's got a
vulgar sense of humor and my mothers Irish temper.  She was my best friend,
and the only one who didn't flinch through anything that would happen to me
through the next few years.
	By chance my sophomore year I had found someone who was like me,
well....at least in sexual preference.  Anthony had 2 years, 3 inches and
40 pounds on me, and at the time I found it a turn on.  I was so alone, and
finally had someone to understand me and love me.  I knew I loved him, that
was certain. We went out for 5 months or so.  No one had any clue, my
family liked him and thought he was a violin instructor, I never got in
much practice then anyway.  He was sweet to me, and I didn't mind giving
him head, even though sometimes he demanded it, almost forcing me.  It
scared me, but I thought he would never hurt me.  I guess it was about
April that the happy little existence I thought I had found crumbled,
no.....it blew up.
	No one had been home at my house that Saturday, so I invited
Anthony over as usual to hang out, cuddle, make-out hopefully.  I was
surprised when he said he wanted to fuck me after an intense moment on my
bed.  I guess it was my fault for being a sentimental romantic and wanted
my first time to be special, so I promptly said no.  At first he pleaded
with me, with little kisses and, "please, pretty please? With sugar on
top?" but that didn't last.  Soon I found myself being knocked around, and
the next thing I knew I was pinned onto my bed my the back of my neck, with
my feet on the floor and pants being ripped off.
	 I don't remember what he said. I remember everything hurt from
being beaten up before he pinned me, and sobbing uncontrollably.  I
remember the sharp and intense pain from him ramming himself into me and
fucking me without paying attention to my screams and crying.  Every
struggle to get away from him was met with a punch to the side or the back
of the head.  After a few minutes I gave up and just prayed for it to be
over.  I prayed to God that he would kill me, I prayed to God as the
thought crossed my mind that this was my punishment for being gay.  It
seemed to last forever, and the pain never stopped.  He just kept going and
I kept crying through the pain.  When he finished he flipped me over and
punched me into unconsciousness, I woke up the next day in a hospital bed.
	The next few weeks were a nightmarish blur.  My Grandmother and
Sister stayed by my side the whole time.  By now it was out that I was gay,
but thankfully no one knew about the rape, they just thought my boyfriend
beat me up and left me to be found.  I don't know exactly how the doctor's
over looked that part of my anatomy, but I guess they assumed it was what
the result of gay sex looked like.  What ever the reason no one knew, and I
thought I was saved.  My stepfather couldn't look me in the eye, and didn't
file charges.  Coming home the following week wasn't a welcoming.
	In all I healed and went back to school.  I was ostracized by most,
but that was to be expected.  I guess being outed saved me the anxiety of
coming out, it was fun.  I didn't tell anyone about the rape.  At the time
I was convinced that it was bad enough being gay, so I might as well get
through that feeling of rejection.  No one would have understood me anyway,
I don't even think walking into a rape survivors meeting would have helped,
either.  The unloved gay boy walking into a group of man-hating women was
not the therapy I was looking for.  I instead kept it to myself and
attempted to bury it.  All I got from that as I look back now was a deep
depression, 3 suicide attempts, and a bipolar disorder.  But with all of
that loneliness with a few exception of my sister supporting me and 3 or 4
die hard friends I managed to have a lot of study time.  Thank God, as soon
as I could I got out and went to college, at the time I thought it was the
best thing for me.
	My first year of college I learned to hold my liquor, what a friend
with benefits was, and what true friends were.  Sounds great, but when I
came home that summer I fell into a great physical and emotional illness.
I couldn't handle the rejection of my stepfather, I couldn't handle being
myself.  So, I was sent to a therapist and a specialist and to an aunts
house for rest and a semester off from school.  Gwen came every weekend to
cheer me up. She brought me porn that made me laugh and stories that made
me miss home.  She also let me cry, a lot.  My sister was my rock.  She let
me get out my anguish and never asked questions, at least not twice
	This get away lasted until about Christmas, when I finally went
home and faced the music.  My stepfather still couldn't look me in the eye,
but I guess after 3 1/2 years of knowing he could at least say complete
sentences to me.  I felt kind of relieved.  Before I was outed my step
father treated me like a prince, it was a hard downfall. But life goes
on. After another failed suicide attempt and more therapy I went back to
school, still harboring the secret that had taken so much from me, and yet
was still eating me away.
	It was an uneventful spring, to say the least, until one afternoon
I ended up hungry and in an almost empty diner.  I was nursing a crock of
French union soup and pondering an assignment for a sociology class when a
man came in and sat at the counter next to me.  I didn't think much of it,
other than I wanted to be alone and I hoped he wouldn't try to talk to me,
for I wasn't big on social interaction much at that time.  At first glance
I found him to be somewhat attractive, or at least intimidating.  He was
6'5'' and had to be at least 200 pounds.  He dressed in all black, wore
dark glasses and had an oddly appealing goatee.  Facial hair never did it
for me, but it suited the stranger. He also had to be in his mid 30's, so I
assumed he'd notice I looked like a pubescent boy and not bother me.  I
quickly went back to slurping soup and minding my own business when I saw
him pull out a magazine.  At first I thought it was Men's Health, but then
I quickly realized Men's Health doesn't use nude models.  To say the least
I was taken aback slightly, and he noticed it.  "Does this bother you?"  He
asked sincerely as he turned to me.

	Yeah, I was caught staring and I couldn't get my way out of it, so
I blushed uncontrollably and stuttered.  It was a great first impression on
my part, truly.  He laughed at me and put the mag away.  I was still
puzzled at why he would pull that out in the middle of a restaurant.

"Sorry about that, didn't mean to upset you.  I'm Tim, by the way."  and he
held out his hand to me.

"Uhh, don't worry about it, I've got that one at home.  And I'm Rory."  Why
the hell had I just said that?

"Oh, so then you don't mind.  Good, now I can get my afternoon reading in."

"Um, could you not?  The waitress here isn't homofriendly."  I said trying
to keep my voice down and not seem so nervous.

"Oh, I see. Well then Rory, tell me about yourself then, since I don't have
any other form of entertainment now."

	At this point I was ready to run out of the place.  The whole
semester I had been battling social anxiety and now I was backed into a
corner, and my food hadn't even arrived yet!  At first I avoided the
conversation of myself and asked about him.  Soon we were on neutral
topics, politics heavily, since that was my major.  After talking about the
evils of the GOP and somehow getting onto the topic of Bob Dole's penis, we
had both finished our meals and were irritating the waitress.  I
reluctantly grabbed my bag and started saying my goodbyes to my friendly
companion when he stopped me.

"I know this seems odd, but I enjoyed this conversation and I'd maybe like
to see you again it you were interested."

'Was he asking me out? He's so much older than me, I don't want to date,
and I don't want to have a relationship again. I don't know this guy, what
does he want with me?'  My mind raced and I broke out into a cold sweat as
I just stared back at him, I must have looked like an idiot.

"Just to get to know you more as a friend." He must have seen the 'deer
caught in the headlights' look on my face.  He bailed me out, how could I
say no to something so innocent...sounding.

"Sure, I guess." I said with a sigh of relief.

"Great!  I live off of South Street if you wanted to meet up there
sometime, can I put your number in my cell?"

"I love South Street, I'd love to." I must have looked to eager now, what
was wrong with me?

	I gave him my number and we parted ways.  For the rest of the day I
felt strangely relaxed and content with myself.  I didn't really expect him
to call; I wasn't that nice to him really.  I looked like an asshole at the
end, but it was a nice afternoon. A few days of classes studying and
monotony went by.  Thursday afternoon I was reading for my macroeconomics
class when my phone rang.  At first I assumed it was my roommate's girl
friend, because she's the only one who usually calls, but I was shocked
when I heard Tim's voice on the other end.  I was dazed and taken aback at
first, but by the end of a two-hour phone conversation I was going to meet
him on South Street on Saturday morning.  We had talked about nothing in
particular, I did make it clear I just wanted to be friends, and he seemed
to agree with it.  I was excited now, I actually liked the guy, and was
going to possible get to know him.
	Saturday morning around 10 I met Tim at the South Street Pier.  It
was a windy morning, but it was pretty warm and a nice day in all.
Conversation was light, I think he sensed I was nervous, but I soon warmed
up to our casual walk and talk.  We went to breakfast and a few shops.
Soon we found ourselves at the Condom Factory, and who can't go into the
Condom Factory?  We went in and looked around, cracking jokes about certain
toys and what kind of guys would use such things.

"Who would use this? And who would let someone who could fit into this near
them?"  He said holding up an oversized condom.

"I'd have to be abstinent around that guy, sorry." I said with mock fear as
I moved on to look at other humorous sex toys.

"Would you ever use any of this stuff?" as I held up a pair of handcuffs to
him.

"Nah, I'm more of a romantic.  I'm a flower, chocolate, little kisses kind
of guy."

At this I laughed as I looked at the imposing figure who just described
himself as a teddy bear.  "I never pinned you the sappy type."

"Neither did my last boyfriend, but the shock wore off."

"How long ago did you go out."

"We broke up about 6 months ago, went out for a year. But it was fun while
it lasted.  Have you had boyfriends?"

"One, a long time ago.  I'd rather not talk about it."  I said looking
away.  No need to get bitter in the sex-toyshop.

"Ok, not a prob." He said and patted me on the back gently.

	We spent the rest of the afternoon walking around South Street and
Penn's Landing, it was a nice day and I was really starting to like this
guy.  By ten o'clock I was exhausted and really needed to get back to the
dorm, the campus was 45 minutes away and I wanted to get there soon.  I
started explaining this to Tim when he caught me off guard.

"Why don't you just crash at my apartment, I've got a comfortable couch."
He said nonchalantly.

"Oh, I don't know if that's such a good idea."  Over the course of the day
I had developed a crush on the older man, and going back to his apartment
didn't seem the safest thing to begin with.  Older, larger and stronger men
never came to be a positive thing to me.  Needless to say I was reluctant.

"Rory, it's just a friendly offer.  If you want to stay friends that's
fine, that's all this is."  It's as if he was reading my mind.

"No, it's not that I just..." But that was it.  I was afraid I would want
something more or he would.  I didn't want to get into something like this
again.

"Just what?  I don't want you to have to trek across the city tonight.  The
Only thing to worry about is staying up all night drinking coffee and
talking to me."  He said with a knowing smile.

At this point I gave in and went back to his apartment.  I was mortified at
first, but he stayed true to his word.  We sat on his oversized couch,
drank coffee, and talked into the night.  I found that I had a lot in
common with him, and he understood where I was coming from.  He also never
knew his father, and understood what it was like to never have that
influence.  Some how we got onto the subject of how we came out, and I was
more than willing to change the subject.  He explained how he didn't come
out until he was 23, and that he wished he had done it sooner, but in all
his family wasn't too miffed about it.  When the question turned to me I
tried to avoid it, but he immediately picked up on my nervousness and
morose expression.

"I take it coming out for you was rough?" He said and hugged me around the
shoulder.

"I didn't come out, I was outed." I said laying my head on his shoulder.
It felt comforting to be held, and he seemed like he would understand.

"I'm sorry, do you want to talk about it?"

"No, not particularly." I said with a shaky voice as memories came back
into my memory of what the past almost 4 years had been for me.

	At this point it was around 3 in the morning and I was exhausted.
My composure was lacking and I found myself beginning to weep.  I was
embarrassed and tried to get away from him.  I asked to go to the bathroom,
but instead he hugged me and reassured me that it was ok.  Well, that did
it and the floodgates opened.  I felt like a fool crying on a practically a
stranger's shoulder.  He kissed my forehead and rubbed my back as I sobbed
and tried to explain how hard it was being gay where I came from.  I guess
I fell asleep soon after, emotionally exhausted balled up in his arms like
a lost puppy who wondered onto his doorstep.  He must have thought me to be
a complete emotional time bomb, which for all intensive purposes I was.
	In the morning I woke lying next to him on his couch.  I was
cuddled into his side with my head on his chest, he was still holding me,
and it seemed that he was still sound asleep.  I crawled over him careful
not to wake him to get to his bathroom.  After relieving my bladder, I
looked myself in the mirror.  I looked haggard and worn out.  When I
returned to Tim's living room he was awake and sitting up on the couch.  I
felt awkward and didn't know how to act now. He again read my thoughts and
expressions and asked me to sit down with him once again.  Cuddled back
into his arms he thanked me for trusting him and telling him my problems,
though he didn't know the half of them.  He said he was around for me to
talk to if I needed it, and I always had a place to go if I needed it.  In
all honesty this was new to me, and I thanked him and was overly grateful
that he even wanted to see me again.  I soon had to go back for I had work
that needed to be done for the following week of classes, but I thanked him
for everything, and we made plans to see each other again.
	As I returned back to school it felt as if I was lighter, but I
didn't know why yet.  Soon I would find that Tim was going to be my savior
in more ways than one.


I hope to make this a two-part story, and have the next part out shortly.
Thanks for reading it, and please send me comments at St_Rory@hotmail.com
or Rory Danial on AOL Instant Messenger.