Date: Fri, 18 Jan 2008 00:20:54 -0800 (PST)
From: Lusty <lustyville@yahoo.com>
Subject: Regifting

     I hear the door creep open and then quietly shut and I close
my eyes as I wait for the impending touch. He lifts my covers and
climbs in bed with me. I left my underwear off because Mom went
to work tonight so I knew he would visit. He can't help himself.
He doesn't waste time as he reaches out for me and his fingers
graze my naked hip. My nakedness confirms his taunts that I was
waiting for him. I listen to him whispering it in my ear.

     He's going to be rough tonight. I can tell by the way he
sucks on my neck instead of planting tender kisses. I almost
prefer it when he's rough. When he is I don't feel so guilty
about what we do. It's the nights when he's gentle that torment
me. On those nights the line between right and wrong is blurred
and what he does to me doesn't seem so wrong. I prefer the
carelessness of the way he uses me when his only motive is
getting off. When he's careless and callous and cruel I know for
certain what he is doing to me is wrong and I honestly don't
enjoy a second of it. I'm only haunted by the times when
everything is unclear.

     Tonight he's dominant and lust driven. My body is only used
so he can make a deposit and then he quickly leaves my room. I
reach next to my bed and grab my underwear. I've learned to make
things go faster by already being naked. One time two years ago
he ripped my underwear off of me and it hurt like hell. Since
then I make it easy.

     I know I could force him to stop. I could tell someone. I
should tell, but I won't. I don't want to ruin my family and I'm
not sure if I can handle being the one who puts my father away. I
can deal with what he does to me. It's really not so bad.

     I think I'm well adjusted. I get good grades. I have a nice
group of friends. I get along with my siblings. I don't have
emotional problems. I'm fully functional. I have a great life
other than sharing my bed with my father since I was eleven.

     I don't remember him doing anything too far out of the
ordinary to me before he found out my secret. My secret changed
the way he looked at me and I know it will change the way
everyone else looks at me too. What would people say if they
found out I was gay? They'd probably think I like what he does to
me.

     I go to sleep with the comfort of knowing I will wake up in
the morning and it will be as if nothing happened. My father and
I are good at pretending to be a normal father and son. We should
be after all the practice we've had. He's been doing what he does
to me for five years now. I'm sixteen and I'm big enough to
fight. I could stop him but I just lay there and let him do
whatever he wants.

     I wake up and shower then wrap a towel around my waist and
walk to my room. My father is sitting on my bed. I hesitate at
the doorway before I remember my mother should be home and the
kids should be up. He'd never do anything to me while they were
moving around the house. I feel his eyes staring at me and I
might as well be naked with his hands roaming over my body.
There's a dirty way he makes me feel that I can't describe but
it's sort of like there's a part of me that will never be clean.
I step inside my room and purposely leave the door open.

     "Close the door," he orders. I do it without question but I
think I'm safe. I think he just wants to look at me and watch me
dress because he does that sometimes. I walk around my room and
gather my clothes in a futile attempt to delay the inevitable. I
wish I could pull up my underwear without dropping my towel, but
I know that will make him angry and I try not to upset him. I sit
my clothes on the dresser and I stand in front of him and drop my
towel. My eyes drop to the floor with shame. "You're beautiful,"
he says. "You shouldn't be ashamed of it."

     My eyes dart towards his face but I don't look directly at
him. I hear the lust in his voice and it takes me to that place
that I go in the middle of the night. "What's Mom doing?" I ask.
It's my subtle way of reminding him that we're not alone.

     "She took the kids out shopping."

     "Oh." I can feel the tension in the air and I try to mask my
apprehension by continuing talking. "She didn't take a nap?"

     "No, she's going to nap when she gets back."

     "When is that?"

     "A few hours." I hear movement so I look up enough to see
him massaging himself through his pants. I hear his voice asking,
"What do you think we should do?" I know I don't want to do what
he wants to do so I decide I've been naked long enough and I
reach for my underwear. "Not yet," he whispers. I drop the
underwear and stand still. "Why don't you touch yourself?" he
suggests.

     He wants me to enjoy it too which means he's going to be
gentle. Why does he have to be gentle? I want him to pull off his
clothes and just do it but he's going to take his time. I wish he
wouldn't.

     I do as he asks and he watches for a few minutes before he
begins pulling his pants down. I know that he's getting undressed
and I try not to think about it. I close my eyes and imagine I'm
putting on a show for my boyfriend. Rob O'Connor is the best
thing that has ever happened to me. I don't tell him what my
father and I do because he wouldn't understand.

     A hand glides down my chest and I think about the last time
I was in bed with Rob. Being with Rob feels good and it's nothing
like being with my father. Rob's touch makes me happy but my
father's touch makes me feel like parts of me are slowly dying.
It's strange how they touch the same places but one touch puts me
on top of the world and the other takes me to the farthest
corners of hell.

     My father pulls me in to a hug and our naked bodies collide.
"I love you Nathan. My little Nate-Nate." His hands travel down
my back and he pulls me closer when his hands reach the
destination that I know they've been desiring from the moment he
entered my room. He grinds in to me. "I wish you weren't so
beautiful."

     I keep my eyes tightly shut but I know what's coming next.
He kisses me and I kiss him back. His mouth tastes like pancakes
and syrup.

     We do what he wants to do and he's sweet and tender and
gentle. His words are loving and kind. He tells me how great my
body is and comments on how I'm becoming a man. He asks me if
things feel good and he's slow and deliberate as he makes sure
I'm enjoying myself. He's like an attentive boyfriend only he's
not. He's an abusive parent.

     I hate when he makes my body feel good. It's harder to
reconcile my anger with the intense waves of pleasure that
consume me. I'd give anything to never enjoy the things he does.
He finishes with me and kisses me on my forehead then he pats me
on my head like he does from time to time and I look at him.

     His eyes are filled with tears and his voice is shaky when
he says, "I wish I could stop doing this. I'm sorry if I hurt
you."

     He's my father and it breaks my heart to see him burdened by
guilt and on the brink of crying. "You didn't hurt me."

     He grabs his clothes and leaves me naked and alone. He's
always apologetic when he's gentle with me. If he had been solely
lust driven he would have been quick and then he would have left
without regrets. I wouldn't have to watch him struggling to cope
with what he does to me. I feel bad enough about it for the both
of us.

     I know I need another shower but I would prefer not to leave
my room until my family is home. I wouldn't want to
unintentionally tempt him. I let the guilt and shame of what
we've just done wash over me and I grab the feelings and lock
them away so I can feel normal again.

     I call my boyfriend. His voice knocks the chill out of the
air and helps me forget how disgusting I am.

     I need to see him so I ask, "What are you doing today?"

     "Nate are you okay? You sound sad."

     I try to laugh it off. "I'm just sad because I wish you were
here."

     "Well you don't have to be sad for too long. I'll be by in
an hour to pick you up."

     "Can we have fun today?" Fun is our code for sex.

     "Don't we always?"

     "Good because I'm looking forward to having a lot of fun
with you."

     "You're going to have so much fun your head will explode."

     I blush then watch in horror as my door opens and I see my
father standing there. I feel the blood drain from my face. "I
gotta go but I'll see you when you get here." I hang up the phone
without waiting for him to say goodbye. I look at my father and I
try to get a read on him to determine if he's in the mood to do
something again.

     "Was that Rob?" he asks.

     "Yes."

     "So you're going out with him today?"

     "Yes."

     "Is he going to fuck you?"

     "Yes." My father knows Rob and I are having sex. I always
had sex with my boyfriends, and before Rob there had been a lot
of them. My father gives me condoms and supports my promiscuity
and he forces me to go in to graphic details about my sex life. I
don't mind because he gets off on my stories without having to
touch me and that's good in my book. I don't tell him that I make
a point of having sex with Rob as often as possible not because
I'm horny or madly in love with Rob but because my memories of
being with Rob help me mask my memories of being with him.

     "You two been together for what, two years now?"

     "Yes."

     "And you still love having sex with him?"

     I want to say, `You've been molesting me for five years but
you still love having sex with me, don't you?' Instead I say,
"Yes."

     "You love him?"

     "Yes."

     "Have you told him?"

     "Yes."

     "Do you love him more than me?"

     I hesitate before giving him the answer he desires, "No."

     "Good boy." He smirks at me. "You may want to take another
shower so you can be fresh when he gets here." He winks to make
sure I understand what he is referring to and he leaves without
saying another word.

     I smell like sex. Like dirty incestuous sex. There is no
need for him to remind me of what we did or how he has soiled me.
I'm caked in dirt and it isn't the kind of dirt I can wash off in
the shower. The water may take away the scent, but it won't wash
away what we did. Nothing can clean what we do. Nothing can make
it right.

     I try to think about Rob. Rob is different from my other
boyfriends. Rob cares about more than having sex with me. He
cares about my feelings and he listens to what I have to say. In
fact, he usually hangs on my every word as if he's mesmerized. I
love the way he loves me and that makes me love him. He's amazing
and sometimes he seems too wonderful to really exist. I pinched
myself once because we had the perfect day and I knew it had to
be a dream. He laughed at me and kissed the reddish marks my
nails left behind on my arm.

     I'm standing by the front door waiting for Rob when my
mother and the kids come home. I watch my twelve year old sister,
Shelly, and my ten year old brother, Ed, run towards the house
with bags in their hands. I can't help but see Ed and wonder if
my father will start in on him after I leave for college. I try
to block the thought from my mind but it won't go away. My
greatest fear is that I'll leave Ed to the same torment I endure.
I love him too much to do that to him but I don't know what I can
do to protect him.

     I only get to talk to my family for a few minutes before I
see Rob's red Ford Ranger pull up behind my mother's car. He's
late, but I don't mind. My mother thinks Rob is a friend from
school.

     I open the door and climb in to his truck. He drives about a
mile down the road before I lean over and kiss him half on his
lips, half on his cheek. My hand pauses to touch the last button
on his shirt before pulling his shirt out of his pants and
settling in his lap.

     He gets the hint. Rob pulls off the road and we both jump
out of the truck and run in to the woods for a quickie. We have
sex in the strangest places. We get the urge and we just do it.
The most risky place we've had sex is in the boy's bathroom at
school. We usually do it in the bathroom once a month. I enjoy
the thrill of almost being caught and I guess the same is true
for Rob. Sex in the boy's bathroom seems amplified and leaves me
completely spent. I know we've been lucky and one day we're going
to be caught but even that turns me on. I think Rob and I are sex
crazed. We have sex some place at school at least three times a
week. We want what we want when we want it and we don't deny
ourselves. Denying seems restrictive and pointless and I like the
freedom of acting on impulse and indulging in fantasies. I'll see
him in the hallway and we'll make eye contact and then we'll skip
a class and go get it on somewhere.

     Rob says I have a problem. He says I'm a sex addict because
I've missed five tests and two midterms so I could run off with
him and have sex. I tell him he's just as bad and he blushes and
reminds me that he's never missed a test. Luckily my father
always covers for me. He may not have the purest motives and I do
have to thank him in a `special way' but having a parent make
excuses for you is a great asset in high school.

     After our romp in the woods we hop back in Rob's truck. His
skin has a pinkish glow. Pink always looks sexy on him. We buckle
our seat belts and I reach over and rub the side of his face.

     "Let's try to make it to the movie," he says as he starts
his truck and pulls on to the road.

     "Why?"

     "Because the theater is dark and the movie is loud and the
second row is calling our names."

     "Are we going to watch the movie?"

     "We may see some of it," he takes an exaggerated breath,
"when we're done."

     I can hardly contain myself. My body tingles as I wait in
anticipation of the fun we're going to have in the movie theater.
We haven't done it in a theater in at least four months. The last
time we went to the movies we actually watched all of the movie.
We stop at a red light and Rob puts his hand in my lap. He gives
me a squeeze before he moves his hand. "And I'm the sex addict,"
I say sarcastically.

     "You are! I'm not a sex addict I'm just addicted to making
you feel good."

     "Oh you're so sweet."

     "You should know. You had a good taste!" I punch him in the
arm. "I'm driving!" he shouts.

     We share a laugh then talk for the rest of the ten minute
ride. I love talking with Rob. His voice is so deep and sexy. It
sounds like it rumbles from his throat and emerges with a soul
chilling bass tone that makes me tremble on the inside. The way
he says my name is an aphrodisiac. Although I must confess that a
lot of things are aphrodisiacs to me. Maybe I am hypersexual or
maybe he's just that damn sexy. I really can't tell which one and
I don't care. I have someone I love talking to and I love having
sex with and that combination has never come in the same package
before. My other boyfriends were all sex. They were like my
father in that way. We had sex and they were gone. It may have
something to do with the age differences though. My previous
boyfriends have all been substantially older than me. The closest
age difference before Rob was Lars and he was five years older
than me. Rob is only a year older and I feel like his equal and
not some young sex toy like I did with the others.

     Rob and I arrive at the theater and decide on an action
movie because we want a lot of noise to cover our activities. We
fondle each other while we watch the previews, then the lights go
down and so do I. Some of the best sex we've had outside of the
boy's bathroom has been the sex that requires us to try to be as
quiet as possible. There is something covertly erotic about
muffling your expressions of pleasure.

     The arrangement in the theater isn't exactly romantic but we
make it work. When Rob is ready to move on, he pulls me up by my
hair. We lift three armrests and I say my usual thank you to the
brilliant individual who designed armrest that move. I stretch
out on my stomach across four seats and pull my pants down. Rob's
tongue begins bathing my butt and then he pulls my cheeks apart
and blows. He knows that drives me crazy. He ends up rimming me
until the only thing I want is to feel him inside me. I move off
the seats and they fold back in to their original positions. I've
done this before so I know exactly what to do. I select a lucky
seat and I let down the armrests and kneel in front of the seat
then lean forward and hold on to the armrests. Rob kneels behind
me and I wait.

     He enters me and I know he doesn't want to rock the row of
seats so he moves in and out of me slowly. His slow fucks are
good because he lasts so long that it feels like he might stay in
me forever. We hear something and Rob stops moving.

     "Be still," he whispers. I start contracting my butt muscles
and he lets out a low moan. He pinches my back to let me know he
means business and I wiggle a little beneath him before giving in
and stopping. Rob starts kissing my shoulder and rocking back and
forth. "We need to finish before we get caught."

     Rob has this thing he does when he's trying to hurry up but
not make too much noise. He starts licking the back of my head
and breathing hard through his nose. He caresses my left arm then
holds my hand. The extra contact does something for both of us.
His lips move to my ear. "Say you love me."

     I turn my head to the side. "I love you."

     He squeezes my hand and grunts in my ear.  I feel him
filling me up for the second time that day. He takes a few deep
breaths and moves to the side. I pull up my pants and sit in the
seat while trying to keep my cheeks squeezed together so I don't
lose too much of him. He says, "Let's go to the bathroom so we
can finish this." He pulls up his pants as he stands and we walk
quickly to the bathroom. My pants are back around my ankles
before we close the stall door. Rob turns me around and drops to
his knees. His tongue meets my hole and his hand meets my dick.
He jacks me off while he sucks and licks out everything he put in
me. I feel myself approaching my climax, so I turn around,
forcing Rob to take his tongue out of me. He attacks my dick with
his tongue. He likes swallowing as much as I do. When the spurts
stop, Rob licks me clean and stands to kiss me. I want to have
sex with him again, but I need to catch my breath. The kiss ends
and he looks down in to my eyes and smiles. "Let's go watch the
rest of the movie."

     We step out the stall and there is a guy standing by the
sink. I don't like the way he looks at us. It's not the first
time we've been caught in public and it's not the first time
someone has looked at us the way he's looking. The guy licks his
lips and I get a sick feeling in my stomach. I grab Rob's arm and
we hurry out the bathroom.

     "That guy's a pervert," I tell Rob when we return to the
darkness of the theater.

     "Dude we were getting it on in the bathroom, what kind of
people do you think that attracts?"

     He has a point. I don't know many people who would stay in a
bathroom just to see who was doing it in the stall. I know people
who would stand outside the bathroom and wait, but no one who
would want to be seen waiting. I catch movement from the side of
my eye and I turn and see the guy from the bathroom sitting down
in the seat next to me.

     I elbow Rob. I'm scared and I feel paralyzed the way I do at
night. The mystery guy is running his hand up my thigh by the
time Rob looks over. I can't breath. Rob grabs the guy's hand and
moves it off of me, then he grabs my arm and pulls me away. He
practically pushes me out of the theater. The next thing I know,
we're sitting in his truck and he's saying my name. "Nate, are
you okay?"

     "Yeah, I just can't believe that happened."

     "Are you sure you're okay? You don't look too good?"

     I don't feel so good but I can't have a breakdown in front
of him because that will only lead to him asking questions I
don't want to answer. "I guess I'm a little shaken up. It's not
every day some middle aged man tries to molest me in a theater."
I hope I'm smiling because I can't tell.

     Rob shakes his head. "I'm sorry he did that to you."

     "It's not your fault."

     "You probably don't want a nightcap do you?"

     I wonder what he would think if I turn down the offer. "I'm
always up for a nightcap."

     Rob starts the truck and drives to his house. We have our
usual goodbye sex and then he drives me home. I get home in
enough time to eat dinner with my family. My father winks at me
when my mother goes to take a nap before she leaves for work. We
both know tonight will be a repeat performance of last night.

     Rob picks me up the next morning and drives me to school. I
give him a blowjob on the way. I don't tell him I did the same
thing to my father the night before or that I had a nightmare the
man from the theater raped me while my father cheered him on. I
don't want him to know that it was hard for me to wake up this
morning or that I was afraid to leave my room and shower because
I thought my father might be waiting for me in the hallway.

     When we get to school I tell Rob to meet me under the
bleachers during lunch so we can have some fun and he smiles and
tells me he'll match my bleachers and raise me a meeting in room
203 during eighth period. I agree and he pats my shoulder which
is our way of making contact while people are watching.

     I spend my first few periods thinking about being with Rob
under the bleachers and after the bleachers I can't wait until
eighth period. Surprisingly, we talk all the way through eighth
so I don't get the sex fix I need, but I keep reminding myself
that Rob and I are more than sex, we always have been, and I
value our conversations even if they do leave my body aching to
touch a part of him.

     The school day ends and Rob takes me to his house so we can
be alone. We begin by doing it against the door then he carries
me to the stairs and we finish there. I love that his parents are
always gone until six because we don't worry about being caught
and that lets us focus on other things, like trying new positions
that aren't easy to move out of quickly. Rob kisses me and thanks
me for being a great boyfriend then we untangle ourselves and
take a shower together. I like showering with Rob because he
cleans me from my head to my toes. Sometimes I imagine his hands
rubbing away the dirty spot left by my father. I think Rob could
do that if he tried. I think he could wipe away the dirt and make
it appear as if it was never there. I almost ask him to save me
but I ignore the lifeline he's offering and I let the water take
me. I'm afraid if I hold on to him I may accidentally pull him
down with me and I won't do that to him. I won't let him deal
with my problem.

     He dries my body with a towel and steals soft kisses at
random moments. He's kissing the good parts of me and I keep my
eyes open so I don't miss a second. I'm lucky to have him. I only
wish I could be with him and just him because even in this sweet
moment I still have images of my father in the back of my mind
and it's three of us in the room instead of two. I wish my father
would leave me alone. All I want is to be happy with my
boyfriend.

     Rob hands me the towel so I can dry him. I love that he's
taller than me and I have to reach up to pat his face with the
towel. I try to dry his face quickly because he closes his eyes
and hides them from me and I want them back. When I reach his
shoulders, he opens his eyes and I stop to appreciate the pale
green diamonds that seem to reach inside me and play with my
heart. I giggle at myself because I know I'm looking at him like
I've never seen him naked before. He's skinny and he doesn't have
the best body but it's his and I love everything that's his plus
he's stronger than he looks. His little arms pick me up and carry
me to his room before I can finish drying him.

     We have sex again and I'm physically exhausted when we
finish. Maybe we do have sex too much. We started really going at
it a year ago and we haven't slowed down. I wonder how long we
can keep up our routine. We cuddle for a while and I relax in the
safety of his arms.

     The time to leave comes too soon. Rob kisses my ear and
whispers, "It's almost time for my parents to be home."

     I sigh, "I don't think I can move." He laughs but I'm
serious. My legs feel weak and my body is completely drained of
energy. "I'm tired."

     "Ooh, let me put your clothes on for you. That could be
fun."

     "You just want to touch me."

     He grabs my dick, "Yeah I do." I instantly think about the
guy from the movies and my body tenses. Rob moves his hand and
sits up on the bed. "Are you sure you're okay?"

     "Yeah, I'm just tired."

     He watches me as if he's searching for a clue then he asks,
"Does this have something to do with what happened at the
theater?"

     "No."

     He pushes me on my back and looks in my eyes. "You can tell
me what's wrong."

     I can't tell him that the guy in the theater made me think
about other times when I was touched when I didn't want to be and
that I'm scared because I know if he wasn't there things would
have gone a lot further. I might have wanted the guy to stop but
I wouldn't have stopped him. There is something in me, a gift
from my father that I wish I could give back. It's like a shutoff
chip. When I get uncomfortable and I feel that touch that makes
my spine cringe I freeze. I despise the feeling of powerlessness
I get from unwanted attention and I hate myself for cooperating
and allowing my body to be used. I think all of this but I can't
say it to Rob.

     "You can tell me," he whispers.

     He's looking at me like he knows a little bit of everything
and he's waiting for me to say the words. I lie to him and say,
"It's nothing."

     His eyes call me a liar and dare me to say it again, but his
lips say, "Okay." He gives me a quick kiss and moves off the bed.
"We can talk about it when you're ready."

     I blurt out, "I don't want to talk about it!"

     He stops pulling up his pants and gives me a strange look.
"So there's an `it' you don't want to talk about?"

     I back pedal, "No."

     "Okay." His tone belies his word. It's not okay. I frown at
him and he responds by frowning at me. "Don't make that face."

     I know how to end the discussion and make his frown
disappear. "I love you."

     His eyes challenge me for a moment then his lips break in to
a smile. "I love you too."

     I get out of bed and put on my clothes. Rob makes a lame
joke about my body and a can of whip cream and we slip in to a
light-hearted conversation about naughty things we want to do to
each other involving food products.

     When Rob drops me off at home, I contemplate running after
his truck and begging him to take me away but I don't. I walk in
my house and kiss my mother on her cheek while she's in the
middle of setting the kitchen table. My father jokes that I
didn't give him a kiss on his cheek and I try not to change my
expression as I walk over to him and kiss his stubble covered
cheek as quickly as possible. He smiles at me like he's won
something and I wish I had the balls to punch him in his mouth
but since I don't, I smile at him and remind myself that I am a
coward.

     I go to my room and do homework while I block out thoughts
of what's going to happen when the darkness of night calls my
father to my bed. Soon it's time for dinner and I know that means
I'm a step closer to my mother leaving. Watching her grab her bag
and walk out the door is the hardest part because there's only
one more time marker left before the countdown until my door
creeps open. I brush my teeth and the final marker is in place
when my naked body is wrapped in my covers. I lay and wait and
then he comes and goes and I sleep.

      I wake up the next morning thinking about Rob and what he
does and doesn't know about me. I wonder if he would understand
why someone my size and my age would let my father abuse me. I
wonder if Rob could listen to the details and look at me without
being repulsed by what he saw. He's one of the few people who
I've almost told the truth.

     I almost told my best friend when I was twelve. Taylor and I
were sitting in my living room watching our favorite after school
show and all I could think about was the way my father's hands
felt when they touched me down there. Back then I wasn't as good
at controlling my emotions. I started feeling sorry for myself
because memories of my father seemed to pop in to my head at the
most inconvenient times. I didn't want to think about him while I
was watching tv and I didn't want to think about what he did to
me while I was sitting next Taylor because I was afraid Taylor
might somehow sense that something was wrong with me and then he
might see me for the disgusting little boy I was.

     Taylor looked over during the commercial and he didn't say
anything. I noticed the way he kept looking at me and then
quickly looking back at the tv. He thought I didn't see it. I had
always seen it but it meant nothing to me until that day.
Something changed and suddenly I was seeing Taylor differently
and I wondered what it would feel like to touch him like my
father touched me or have him inside me while he whispered how
much he loved me.

     Taylor was a cute kid. He had shoulder length sandy brown
hair with natural blonde highlights and haunting eyes the color
of the sky on a perfect summer afternoon. I was tentative when I
put my hand on his thigh but I grew more certain of myself as my
hand inched its way up. Taylor looked at me but he didn't say
anything.

     "Let's go to my room. I can make you feel good," I bragged.

     We went to my room and I locked the door and showed him
everything I knew. He didn't question me. He didn't ask how I
suddenly knew so much about sex or how I knew where to touch him
to make him beg me not to stop. He probably didn't know those
were questions he should ask. He was so much smaller than my
father and he slipped inside me easily but he didn't last as long
as my father did. He was barely in me when I felt him have a dry
orgasm.

     When he was done, he stood and started putting on his
clothes. "We shouldn't have done that."

     "Why not?" I questioned.

     "Because it's wrong."

     "No it's not. I do it all the time."

     "With who?"

     "I promised I wouldn't tell."

     "Is it someone I know?"

     "No, you've never met him before," I lied. Then I added,
"He's older."

     Taylor looked worried and asked me flat out, "Does he force
you to do it?"

     "No!" I shouted. "He's like 14, I'm 12, it's not a big deal.
Nobody's forcing anyone."

     Sometimes I wish I would have told him the truth. Maybe then
I wouldn't have lost him. He left my room that afternoon and
walked away from our friendship. He never told anyone about me or
about what we did but he stopped talking to me. I lost my best
friend because a part of me got pleasure from what my father did
and I wanted to feel that pleasure with someone I cared about and
someone who I thought wouldn't hurt me.

     Two months later I wrote a story for my English class
talking about how the boogeyman had shown this boy bad things
during the night and the boy knew the things were bad but he went
along because he was a naughty little boy and he shared the bad
things with his best friend and the bad things chased his best
friend away.

     My teacher, Mr. Karolowski, had me stay after class so we
could discuss the story. I told him I made it all up and he
apologized for thinking otherwise. He started paying a lot of
attention to me after that. Then he told my parents he needed to
tutor me after school so I would pass the class. It was only a
few days in to our tutoring when he made his first move. I was
too young to see that he was abusing me too. He was my first
boyfriend. I was 12. He was 32. I knew it was wrong, but it
didn't feel wrong because I loved him and I thought he loved me.
I cried when he broke it off after I finished from sixth grade,
but I wasn't alone for long. There was a seemingly endless stream
of older men who wanted to have sex with me. There was something
about my youth that turned them on and for me there was something
about being in their arms that made me feel special. They
reminded me of my father but they were different and I told
myself that made it okay. Most of my relationships lasted only a
month or so, a few lasted longer and a couple overlapped with
each other.

     I felt in control because outside of my father, I determined
who I had sex with and when. I loved the rush of power I felt
when I knew a man was risking everything to be with me. It made
me believe that I might be worth something after all.

     My father didn't find out about my boyfriends until the
third one. Marc had been kind enough to leave a hickey on my
neck. I managed to keep it hidden for a day and my father didn't
notice it that night, but in the morning, my father came to wake
me up for breakfast and he saw it. He stared at it and turned my
neck so he could get a good look.

     "We're going for a drive after breakfast," he said.

     I thought he was upset with me because I was sharing my body
with someone else. I hardly touched my breakfast. I was too
afraid to eat so I played with my food and waited until he tapped
me on my shoulder and told me to grab my jacket.

     He drove to a secluded area of a park nearby and started
asking questions, "Who did that to you?"

     "My boyfriend."

     "What's his name?"

     "Marc."

     "How old is he?"

     "28."

     "How did you meet him?"

     "At the mall."

     "Does he know you're only thirteen?"

     "Yes."

     "When did this start?"

     "A month ago."

     "Does he hurt you?"

     "No."

     "Well what does he do to you?"

     "He does things."

     "What kind of things?"

     "He touches me."

     "How does he touch you?"

     "Like you do at night."

     "Is that all he does, touch you?"

     "No."

     "What else does he do?"

     "He does that other thing too."

     "What other thing?"

     "That thing you did last night."

     "He does?"

     "Yes."

     "And you like it?"

     "Yes."

     "Did he do that to you yesterday?"

     "Yes."

     "You have to tell me everything he did and I mean
everything."

     I started describing the way Marc touched me and laid me
down gently on his bed and peeled away my clothes one piece at a
time. I looked over and saw my father with his pants unbuttoned
and unzipped and his hand in his underwear. He told me to keep
going so I repeated every detail I could remember.

     That was how our story times began. Eventually he knew
everything about my sex life. It excited him to know that other
men desired me and I think it soothed his soul to know he wasn't
the only one. He commented on it one day saying something like he
didn't feel as bad anymore because I must like what he was doing
to me or I wouldn't go out and do it with other people. I think
my promiscuity gave my father the justification he wanted so he
could continue abusing me.

     I was on my eighth boyfriend when I met Rob. I was a 5'6"
freshman with skin the color of snow, crew cut black hair and
bright blue eyes and Rob was a 5'11" sophomore with brown hair
and annoying pale green eyes that always seemed to be watching me
when I looked in his direction. One day I walked over to him in
the hallway and started a conversation. I wanted to know little
things about him, like his name, where he was from and why he was
always watching me.

     He smiled and said, "Robert O'Connor, Camper's Hill and
because you're cute."

     I wasn't sure how to respond so I replied with a simple,
"Oh," and walked away.

     He stopped me in the hall the next day and gave me his
number. I called him that night. Our first date was three days
later. We talked about all kinds of things but we avoided the
subject of sex. He asked if I could sleep over and I called and
asked my father. My father said yes and volunteered to bring me a
change of clothes. Rob's mother picked us up from the mall and
shuttled us back to his house. My father arrived an hour later.
He handed me a bag of clothes and told me to have fun. I opened
the bag and saw two condoms and a small tube of lube on top so I
closed the bag before anyone else caught a glimpse of what was
inside.

     Later that night, Rob and I went to his room to go to sleep.
He asked if my father packed me any pajamas. I told him I slept
in my underwear. He asked if I had a sleeping bag. I told him no.
He suggested we share his bed. We lied in bed talking for hours
and then he said he was getting sleepy. I leaned over to kiss him
goodnight and the sweet innocent kiss I intended to give him grew
in to something else and the next thing I knew we were having
unprotected sex.

     It had been a while since I was with someone close to my age
and I spent the night terrified that Rob would say goodbye to me
in the morning and disappear from my life like Taylor had. I was
surprised when Rob kissed me `good morning' and told me how
wonderful I was and how lucky he was to find someone like me and
how he was sorry if he pushed me too fast too soon. I said he
hadn't pushed me and I wanted it as much as he did.

     "I don't want what we have to just be sex," he stated.

     "Me neither."

     "So let's make a deal to wait a while before we do it
again."

     He smiled and seemed relieved when I agreed to wait. I was
tempted to tell him he was the best I ever had and his touch
excited my entire body and made my mind frantic with thoughts
about him. I opened my lips and almost thanked him because he was
painfully gentle with me in a way only Marc had come close to
before but even Marc had fallen short. There was a sweetness and
an innocence and a sense of joy Rob emitted that was something I
had never seen in older men, as if age had somehow dulled their
shine and turned down their inner-light. Rob's smile seemed to
brighten the room and bring light to the areas in my heart I once
believed were lost forever. I felt things with Rob that I hadn't
felt with any of my previous boyfriends.

     Our wait lasted only three weeks because it was hard to not
be sexual with each other. I continued seeing my eighth boyfriend
for the first three months I was with Rob but it eventually
became apparent that Rob was something special and my eighth
boyfriend was just a manipulative user. My eighth boyfriend
wanted sex but Rob wanted all of me. Rob wanted to talk to me and
Rob wanted to listen to me and Rob wanted to know how I thought
and who I was and what plans I had for the future. Rob cared
about me and the more I saw that, the more I understood that no
one had before.

     Rob is driving me to school and I stare at him as I think
about all the ways he's shown me he loves me. "You're amazing," I
tell him.

     "So are you," he replies with a smile.

     "No, I mean it. You're amazing. I love everything about you
but the thing I love the most is how you love me. I don't deserve
someone like you." It's my memories talking and the guilt of all
the things I've done that I can't tell him about.

     He pulls in to the parking lot at school and parks then he
turns to me and I know he knows there's something I'm holding
back - a piece of me I'm not willing to share with him. "It's me
who doesn't deserve you." He looks uncomfortable. "You want to
ditch today? There's something that's been bothering me since you
left my house and I think we need to talk about it."

     I swallow hard. "Okay." I agonize over what lie to tell him
and I practice the lie over and over in my head so I have it down
by the time he pulls in his driveway. We go inside and slowly
make our way to his room. He closes his door and locks it even
though his parents aren't expected back until the evening.

     He sits on his bed and motions for me to join him. "I know
what that man did to you made you uncomfortable and I'm sorry
that you don't feel comfortable enough with me to talk about it."

     "It's not that," I assure him.

     "It is but I want you to know I understand how you feel. I
love you and what I'm about to tell you is something I should
have told you a while ago." He looks at the carpet. "I was
molested by my uncle when I was twelve." I am shocked. I was
expecting him to ask me if I was molested, not confess that he
was. I take a deep breath and pull him close to me. He starts
crying. "I've never told anyone about it."

     I feel like a hypocrite as I hold him and tell him it isn't
his fault and he has nothing to be ashamed of and I love him for
being brave and telling me. "You didn't do anything wrong," I
whisper in his ear.

     "He molested three other boys besides me. One of them killed
himself. If I had told someone, Michael would still be alive. I
could have stopped him but I didn't."

     I try to calm him, "It's okay. It's not your fault."

     "That's not the worst of it. When everyone found out what he
did to the other boys, my parents asked me if he had ever done
anything to me and I lied." Rob grabs a handful of my shirt,
"When that guy touched you at the theater it was like being there
with my uncle and having him do that to me. I'm sorry I couldn't
protect you."

     "You did protect me. You made him stop and you took me
away."

     "But I let him touch you."

     "You didn't let him do anything to me. I did. I froze. If it
wasn't for you he might have done something worse. You saved me."

     There's silence and I listen to Rob crying then he says,
"You know what he used to do to me? He used to lick the short
hairs on the back of my head and make me tell him I loved him and
I do that to you sometimes. Do you know how sick that is?"

     "It's not sick. It's just something you learned."

     "Why do I do it?"

     "I don't know."

     "And you want to know something else?"

     "Huh?"

     "I don't like sex as much as you do, but I know it makes you
happy and I don't want to lose you."

     "You won't lose me. We don't have to do it all the time," I
whisper.

     "How else can I make you happy?" he asks.

     "I'm happy just being near you. You don't have to do
anything special for me."

     I have the perfect opportunity to tell Rob about my father
and to tell him that the only reason I have sex so often is
because I want to be able to think about him when my father
visits me at night. I want to tell him that the memory of his
touch keeps me sane and the thought of how much he loves me
blankets me in warmth and shelters me from the cold embrace
offered by my father. I have the words ready in my mind and
waiting for me to open my mouth and allow them access to the
outside world, but I keep my lips firmly sealed, blocking the
words from escaping. I can't tell anyone, not even the one person
who loves me the most.

     I hold Rob until he finally pulls away from me. "Thanks for
staying," he says.

     "No need to thank me. I love you," I put my arm around him,
"and I'm sorry that your uncle did that."

     "You can't tell anyone."

     "I won't."

     "You promise?"

     "Yes, I promise." I grab his hand and try to think of what I
would want him to say to me if things were the other way around.
I kiss his hand and say, "I love you." I want Rob to know I
understand what he's going through and I've been there myself but
I can't tell him about my father so I tell him about Mr.
Karolowski and my string of older boyfriends.

     Rob squeezes my hand and jokes, "And I thought I had it
bad."

     I give the best laugh I can force out and we sit next to
each other holding hands and not saying a word. I can't believe
I've told him so much. He knows how I was used by older men. He
knows that I call them boyfriends. He knows that I thought they
loved me. He knows that I cheated on him in the beginning of our
relationship, but most importantly, he knows that I believe his
love set me free and I'm thankful that I met him because he
changed my life.

     We lay on the bed and cuddle and Rob sleeps like a baby
while I convince myself to tell him everything. He squeezes me
closer when he wakes up. "It feels good to know that you know."
He kisses the back of my neck. "No more secrets."

     I yell at myself to just say it. "My father's been molesting
me since I was eleven and I asked him if he would hate me if I
liked boys. He said my mother would, but he wouldn't then he
offered to teach me a few things." I exhale loudly. "He sneaks in
my room every night when my mother goes to work. I don't stop
him. I just let him do it. It's like I'm eleven all over again."
My body begins shaking. "I know it's disgusting. I'm disgusting."

     Rob rubs my arm, "You're not disgusting. He is. He has no
right to hurt you."

     "Sometimes he doesn't hurt me," I confess, "sometimes it
feels good."

     "It's okay. I know that doesn't mean you like it." He kisses
my shoulder. "I know how it feels to keep that kind of secret. I
won't let him hurt you again. I promise I'll keep you safe."

     "How?"

     "I'm not letting you go home tonight."

     "But I can't stay. We have school tomorrow."

     "I don't care. You're not going back to him." He says it and
I believe it. My body calms and I lean in to him. He is going to
save me just like I dreamed he would. "You know you have to tell
someone don't you?"

     "I can't."

     "You have to or he'll never stop."

     "It'll ruin my family."

     "We can run away."

     I laugh. "No we can't."

     "Well then you can stay with me forever."

     "I can't do that either," I turn and face him, "but I wish I
could."

     "I can make it easy for you. I can tell someone."

     "Don't do that. I'll figure out something."

     "No. We'll figure out something together, but tonight you're
staying here. Okay?"

     "Okay."

     He holds me for the next hour. We don't sleep or talk. We
just lay there together. My stomach begins growling loudly and he
laughs and says he has to feed me. Our secrets stay in the room
but we leave. I haven't felt so happy and at peace in years. I
have back that piece of me that my father marked and claimed as
his own. Rob drives me to Burger King and we eat and enjoy each
other's company as if nothing has changed. We exchange happy
memories from our childhood and avoid the topics that once
weighed us down and lurked just beneath every action and reaction
we had. I feel like I'm breathing my own air for the first time.
I can talk to Rob and not think about all the things I can't tell
him.

     His parents are home when we get back and he tells them I
need to spend the night. They don't ask questions. My father
calls around ten and asks me where I am. I say I'm spending the
night with Rob and he says I'm lucky my mother doesn't have to
work tonight or he would come take me home. I hang up on him. My
fingers tremble from the shock of what I've done. Rob grabs my
hand in his and holds it.

     "Talking to him on the phone is the easy part," Rob warns.

     "I know."

     We sleep in the same bed but we don't have sex. This is the
first time I've slept over and not had sex with him. I wake in
the morning and realize I didn't miss the sex because I didn't
need the sex. I needed him.

     I wear the same pair of jeans and one of his shirts when we
go to school. We sneak under the bleachers to kiss and cuddle and
talk a little, but no sex. We stop by my house after school and I
pack clothes so I can stay with Rob for a while. We go to his
house and rehearse our story. Our plan is to convince his parents
I had a fight with my father and I need a place to crash for a
few days while things cool off.

     His parents believe me. They send us to Rob's room. Half an
hour later his parents call us to the living room. The first
person I see is my father. Rob holds my hand.

     "What is he doing here?" Rob asks.

     "I came to talk to my son."

     "You can't talk to him!"

     Rob's father speaks up, "Rob, this is none of your business.
Let them try to work things out."

     "No, Dad, this is none of your business! You don't know what
he's done!" Rob stands in front of me. "He's sick!"

     I try to hide behind Rob. I jump when I hear my father yell,
"Nate is my son and he's going home with me!"

     "So you can get in bed with him tonight while your wife is
at work?"

     It sounds dirty and embarrassing when it's said out loud. I
put my arms around Rob's waist and pull him to me then I bury my
face in his shoulder and close my eyes so I can pretend it's just
the two of us.

     "You don't know what you're talking about!"

     "You're a rapist!" Rob shoots back.

     "Nate's a liar! Tell him the truth Nathan!"

     I can't move. I can't speak. I can barely think. I hold on
to Rob for dear life and I keep my eyes shut. Rob screams, "He's
not a liar! He wouldn't lie about something like that!"

       Rob's father says, "Maybe you should leave until we get
this sorted out."

     "Fine I'll leave, but if I were you I wouldn't let the two
of them sleep in the same room. All they do is have sex with each
other! They probably made up this damn lie so they could spend a
few nights together."

     Rob's parents didn't know about us. At least we never told
them. I try to focus on how good holding Rob makes me feel but I
can't block out the things that are going on around me. I squeeze
Rob tighter and the memory of lying with him under the bleachers
at school finally breaks through and distracts me from the here
and now.

     Rob shakes me and he's facing me when I open my eyes. "We
need to leave now," he says.

     "What happened?"

     "My parents said you can't stay here tonight and if you
can't stay here then I'm not staying here either." I look around
him. His parents are sitting on the sofa staring at us in
disbelief. I guess they didn't take the gay thing so well. Rob
leads me to his room and he throws some things in a bag. "How can
they not believe us?"

     "I don't know." I pick up my bag and wait. He grabs his
things and two sleeping bags and we leave. It shouldn't be easy
to walk away from everything but it is.

     We drive around for a while then Rob calls his older brother
and asks if we can spend the night at his place. Rob spends the
whole night talking to me and complaining that his parents
believed my father over us. He's hurt and agonizing over
something we can't change.

     "I should have told them about us," he says.

     "Why?"

     "Because if I can lie to their faces about being gay then I
can lie about you being abused. They said I should be ashamed of
myself for lying about something like that when I know our family
history." He sniffles. "They asked me before and I couldn't tell
them." His voice cracks. "I wasn't ready for them to know and now
they hate me. They said they don't even know me anymore."

     "They're just surprised. I know they'll forgive you." I put
my hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry if I ruined your family."

     "You didn't do this. Your father did."

     My eyes are closed for maybe two minutes when a loud knock
on the door forces me to open my eyes again. Rob's brother leads
his parents in to the room. Rob's mother stares at him and says,
"I've been up all night. I know you. You wouldn't lie about
something like that." His father stands silently by her side. She
looks at me. "Did you tell Rob your father touches you?"

     I feel like a kid with no where to hide. I answer weakly,
"Yes."

     "Is it true?"

     "Yes."

     "That's all I needed to hear."

     They leave the room and I wonder what's going on. She walks
back in by herself a few minutes later. "We need to take you to
the police station."

     I know what that means and I don't want to do it. "Why?"

     "You have to tell the police."

     "I don't want to."

     "This isn't about what you want. You can't run away from
something like this. You have to turn him in or he'll get away
with it."

     "Fine. Let him get away with it. I'm not going to tell."

     "Would you like him to do it to someone else?"

     I think about Ed. "No."

     "Then do this for them. My brother was just like your
father. He started with his oldest son and worked his way down.
The youngest one killed himself so he could make it stop. Don't
you have a little brother?"

     "Yes."

     "Don't you want to make sure the same thing doesn't happen
to him?"

     "Yes."

     "Good! Now put on your clothes and let's go." She leaves the
room to give us some privacy while we dress.

     Rob and I throw on some clothes and walk out the room
holding hands. Rob's father glances at our hands and looks away.
His father decides to stay behind while Rob's mother takes us to
the station.

     Things happen too quickly. I file a report and give a
statement. Rob holds my hand the whole time. He feeds me strength
and makes me sit there and tell the truth when all I want to do
is run and hide. He's brave for me.

     My mother is called to the station and I have to tell her
what her husband has done to me and introduce her to Rob as my
lover and not my friend. She's angry and apologetic. She says she
had no idea. She would have stopped him a long time ago if she
had known. She's sorry that she didn't see what was going on. She
thinks she should have seen it. She asks if my father has done
anything to Ed and I say I don't think so.

     My father refuses to confess and cut a deal. He says I made
up the whole story because he walked in on me with my boyfriend
and he didn't react well. I endure the trial that ensues and Rob
is by my side the entire time. When I testify against my father I
look at Rob because he gives me courage and his smile says he's
proud of me. I think of the uncle who hurt Rob and how Rob never
got his day in court and I describe my father's routine with
little shame for my role. Rob taught me that I have nothing to be
ashamed of. I am the victim who finally stood up for myself. He
admires me for that because he couldn't do it himself.

     Surprisingly, my family survives losing my father and my
mother and Shelly and Ed don't hate me. My mother only hates my
father but I don't hate him at all. I hate what he did to me and
I regret not coming forward sooner, but I still love him. I can
forgive him for what he's done. I just don't want to ever see him
again.

     Rob goes off to college the next year and we break up when
he comes home for Thanksgiving but we remain good friends. He
will always be my first true love and the person who rescued me
from the darkness of night. For that I will be forever thankful.


c Lustyville 2008
Please send comments to lustyville@yahoo.com and check out my
other stories at:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/lustyville