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.