Copyright- My name is Demitiri and I am a 18 year old Russian male and this is another time for me writing these types of stories. Please enjoy because I'd like to continue writing stories. Thoughts, comments, suggestions, or would you just want to talk? Please be gentle. Email- demitiriK@yahoo.com. I don't bite =] Notes- I hope you enjoy this chapter of the story. And send feedback please. It makes me feel better about my stores =]
I awoke early in the morning to pouring rain and boisterous thunder. I stayed in bed holding myself, and silently weeping, while in the fetal position. I can distinctly remember father taking the extension cord to numerous places on my body including my face, chest, and back. My once majestic body was now covered with horrific scars and stains from blood that wouldn't wash away. I wasn't always a child of parental abuse though, father use to love and cherish me up until the point in which mother died.
Mother was more than likely the greatest woman on earth, well she was in the eyes of me and father. She had the body of a young Kate Moss but was thicker at the hips, breasts, and butt. Mother had long, flowing, crimson red hair that complemented her brown freckles, which looked to have been strategically placed by god, on her creamy white face. Mother had full and pouty red lips which sat nestled under her slender nose between her enticing dark brown eyes of mystery. Most of the aforementioned features I got right from mother. Not only was she beautiful on the outside she was beautiful on the inside. Mother was a kind hearted, caring, and spiritual woman. She would do anything to keep father and I happy and no matter what condition she happened to be in it would never hinder her love and dedication to us. Mother was truly the best woman to have ever graced this planet. Oh how I dearly miss Rosalinda Perez.
Then we have father. He was an athletic man with the body of a Greek god. Not one roll of fat or gray hair spoiled his magnificent body which looked to be chiseled out of a luscious high brown rock. His long legs were muscled to the core, his abs were solid and flat, his arms were not to big but he definetly had muscles in them as well. Unlike mother and I father had short, jet black curly hair that flowed to the bottom of his neck similar to that of a young Mario Lopez. And I swear to this day father is a spitting image of said actor. From the dimple, to the eyes, lips, and nose. If father and Mario were to stand next to each other nobody would be able to tell the difference. Father was a strong and stubborn individual though. He worked his self near death to give me and mother anything our hearts desired and inserted a strong belief in high self esteem and respect for others deep into my brain. I cry out for the days in which Antonio Perez would come back to me. That was the father who I loved dearly.
And lastly there's me. Ronaldo Perez. I had long crimson red hair down below my neck, brown freckles, creamy white skin, the cutest button nose and light hazel eyes. Unfortunately I didn't have my fathers dimples or muscles. My body was entirely flat. Although I barely had any fat I definetly didn't have any muscle to be proud of either. Couldn't lift a twenty pound weight if my life depended on it. Oh well. My good looks went well with my soft and gentle personality. All my life I had been a quiet and scared person. It's just that I've been terribly afraid of people for reasons unbeknownst to me and whenever in social situations I kept to myself unless someone came to me.
As I lay in my big soft bed I hear father downstairs cursing up a storm. Whenever something went wrong I was always blamed even if it wasn't my fault whatsoever. Running my fingers through my hair and hoping he wouldn't come into my room I drifted off into deep thoughts about mother's death. She passed away five months ago from a horrible car crash. The day it happened mother was rushing to my school to pick me up because I was stuck in the rain. Before leaving the house she told me I would need that umbrella but I simply brushed her off because the weatherman had said otherwise. Mother had come down with a cold that day but out of a deep love I'll never comprehend she crawled out of bed tired as ever and drove to come get me.
But there was a powerful rush of rain comming down so her vision of the streets was severly hindered. Mother was driving rather quickly and out of nowhere a big truck swerved into her view and because of instincts she turned the steering wheel with intensity and drove off of the bridge. Her body wasn't recovered and father was never the same. When I got home that day he bombarded me with violence and hurtful words. "You're not my son you're a monster!" "Its all your fault!" "Die you bastard I hate you!" "How dare you take her away from!" "How dare you!"
And all I could was mumble "I'm sorry father." Yet my apologies meant nothing to him. I took away his only love, they were high school sweethearts and had been married for 19 years. And yes I'm only 17 so no I'm not a child who forced his parents to marry. Everyday since the death father has reminded me of the pain I caused as though he wishes it had been me who died instead. Now the love that father once had for me has changed into hatred and disgust. In all honestly I think he no longer cares for me. My thoughts are interrupted by the rumbling of my stomach. I haven't left my room in two days and nobody I know seems to care.
As I walk down the carpeted stairs and head for the kitchen I see father sitting on the couch staring at me with eyes of Satan. He hates his only child and that will never change. I never say anything though, just put my head down in shame. As I pour the milk into my big bowl of cereal father walks into the kitchen and sits across from me just looking. I can feel him staring but I have to much fear to look up at him so I keep my eyes fixed on the bowl of cereal. During the entire ten minutes it took me to eat my cereal I cried. And what did he do? Nothing but continue his dark stare. I toss the bowl into the sink and before I walk out he whips his belts across my back.
At this point in time I am accustomed to the hits but they still sting because of untreated wounds I have. This one hit took me by surprise because he hasn't hit me in a week, so I clutched the wall trying not to fall to my knees. As I stood kneeled over and I heard him walking over dragging his belt against the white tiles of the kitchen floor. Whip! Whip! Whip! Three more hits to my back and then he pushes me away. I was far to weak to run but I knew if I stayed there he would hit me again so I slowly limped back to my room.
I crawled back into bed and slept for the rest of the day. Unfortunately when I woke up I had school in the morning and had to go. I already missed 15 days ago and if I get five more I can goodbye to education. High school is nothing but horrible people grouped into one building but I'm a senior and damn close to leaving. When I woke in the morning I couldn't take a shower as usual. If the hot water was to run down my body I don't know how I would be able to take the pain. Simply too overbearing. So now I dip a wash cloth in hot water and soap then slowly rub all over my body including my scarred areas. As much as it burns when I wash I just have to live with with it.
I threw on sweats, flip flops, with a plain white v neck and walk to school. The cool breeze felt marvelous in this somewhat hot weather. It's been so long since I've been outside and enjoyed being there. Dang. I came to school late and for some reason people were being even more weird today than usual. I saw people pointing at me and whispering. People giving me puzzled and concerned looks. Why? Was there something on me I didn't know about? I gave them no attention and sat in the back next to Paul.
Paul had been my hidden crush since freshmen year and I always got nervous around him. Paul was a beautiful specimen with intricate black braided hair and many soft baby hairs all along his forhead. His bright blue eyes sat openly between a slender nose over thin red lips. His pale white skin was gently decorated with hard muscles everywhere the eye could see. Rock hard abs, chisled legs and arms, his body was to die for.
As I sit in my desk and stared out the window I felt somebody run their fingers over my hand as if they were tracing some sort of pattern. I looked down to see it was Paul running his fingers over the scars that were on my hand and arms. Oh fuck! I can't believe I left my house with a short sleeved shirt. Everybody thought the scars on my hand were from a surgery I had as kid and nobody had ever seen the scars on my arm or chest which were clearly visible. "Ronaldo what happened to you?"
I just looked at Paul and then looked back out the window. To my surprise he sounded as though he was genuinely interested in knowing what happened to me. "I said what happened to you?" Only this time with a little more sterness in his voice. "Its private Paul." "I don't care what it is. I want to know why you have all these scars."
Luckily we were in the back of the class isolated from the other students so nobody could hear our conversation. "Ronaldo what happened? You can tell I'm here for you." "My um, my father did that." "Why?!" He asked in a loud and surprised tone. "Because my mom died trying to help me and he ways blames me for it." "I'm gonna take you home so you can pack your shit and come live with me." "Why?" "Because you shouldn't be with that monster. You need to be with someone who cares for you." "Thanks Paul."
The day went by incredibly slow but the only thing that was on my mind was what Paul said. Was he really going to let me live with him? Or was this some sort of cruel and sick joke? Guess it's just something I would have to find out on me.
Instead of walking home Paul drove me as if to protect me from father. He wasn't home though which made me feel better about abondoning him. I don't know why I felt bad though. By my leaving I'm sure father felt fine about it and that made it even hurt more to leave him alone. I packed the clean clothes I had into a large black bag and passed it to Paul. I wanted to write a note letting him where I would he bit I'm sure it would me nothing to him so as quickly as I came in to get my things I left. "Paul can I tell you somthing?" "Sure." "Do you know I have a crush on you?" "Yeah I knew since like sophmore year. I'm surprised you never acted on that crush?" "How did you know though?" "I remembered how you use to look at me, how you use to bump into me and then smile. I knew you liked me." "Well if you how come you never did anything?" "I didn't know how to approach you. It's something about you that seems so different and unique from the other boys in school. I like you Ronaldo."
Wow. Someone actually likes me? I didn't know to respond so I just sat quietly and stared out the window as dark rain clouds begin to form. We pulled into the driveway of a gorgeous house in a quiet suburb of upstate New Hampshire. As I hopped out of Paul's truck I saw his lawn was a vibrant green color and looked to be perfectly trimmed. Standing tall under his windows were beds of roses, tulips, and other colorful flowers. I heard the loud cracking of thunder in the sky but I didn't move. I didn't want to move. But the rain came down with a force and it stinged inside my wounds so I ran into the house. "Ron." "Yes?" "Take off your clothes?" "Why?" "I want to see you."
What was this? Was he seriously planning in fucking me right there? I had no idea what was going through his mind and on top of that I was a virgin. That's right I'm a 17 year old high school senior who is a virgin. I attempted to take off my shirt but I was to afraid, I didn't want him to see the long lines of scars that danced around my torso. He walked over and just pulled it over my head. Standing there staring at me with his mouth agape I wanted to run away and cry. I turned my body but all he did was grab me to hold me close. "Ron I'm not going to hurt you." "I'm not afraid of you hurting me. I just don't want to be humiliated." "How can I humiliate you?" "I just put my entire guard and allowed you to see my scars. For the past five months nobody has seen my body except me. For the past five months I've cried myself to sleep thinking about how horrible I look and how I fucked my life up. For the past five months I've walked around with the weight of the world on my back. For the past five months I've tried to kill myself many times. But on all times I backed down at the last moment."
He looked at me with eyes of anger. He looked at me as if I was his child and I just cane home with nothing but terrible grades on my report card. He looked at me as if I was the stupidest person on earth and he just wanted to smack some sense into me. "Ron I don't understand you. You don't look horrible and I don't care what you say you're damn beautiful in my eyes. So what if you got some fucking scars you rise above that! Embrace them for what they are and live your life!"
This little pep talk was aggravating. In all my life I have never been a good listener. People talk and talk all they want but I usually hear music in my head as they do it. I saw Ron's lips move but I heard the tune of a catchy ABBA song. It's not that I don't care. It's just that I prefer to carve out my own path and learn things as they go. "Now take off your pants?"
Without thinking I unzipped and the pants dropped. I looked down to see numerous short scars covering my legs. The tears came rolling down my face hitting the floor in s gentle sound. Everytime I saw my scars I felt as though I died a little on the inside. Paul slowly wiped away my tears and held me closer in his caring embrace. I felt his finger go into a long scar on my back and I screamed from the pain. "I'm sorry I honestly didn't mean to do that." "Its okay Paul."
I stood there in the nude feeling more vulnerable than ever before. I don't wear underwear. What surprised me is that Paul actually seemed to care for me. He didn't laugh or turn his face in disgust. He still had eyes mixed with feelings of care and anger. Angry because I let my scars populate and not do anythig about it. Caring because I was a damaged soul and he wanted to bring me back to my once lumious individuality. I ran my fingers on his hard chest while staring at the floor. He removed his shirt and allowed me to look at the massive tattoo on his chest. It was a big cross enveloped in thorns and roses with his mother's name running down the middle. I loved it, so creative and unusual. "If you don't mind me asking why did you get your mother's name in the middle?" "She passed away when I was seven. The only thing I have to remember is this silver necklace with a cross on it."
I didn't even notice his necklace today for some reason. But I did notice it everyday he wore it since freshmen year. My mind was racing a mile a minute yet I couldn't keep a single emphasis on any one thought and I was doing things without knowing. Before I knew it I had stripped Paul down to his socks. His body was spectacular. His long muscular legs looked perfect with his long cock hanging in the air. I just looked at it because I had no idea on what to do with it. In my whole life I've never once talked about sex, seen sex, or had sex. I wanted to ask but I'm sure that would just fuck up the moment.
So I stuck out my tongue and gently licked on the large pale head. As I licked at it I couldn't help but wonder how big he was. I placed both hands on the shaft and I still had around four inches left of unconvered cock. My hand are three inches across so that made his shaft alone ten inches and his head was another inch certifing him at a hard eleven inches. I licked the head and jerked the shaft but I wasn't getting the reaction I was quite expecting. I thought when men get pleasured they throw their head back in ectasy and moan loudly. But Paul wasn't. He just ran his fingers through my hair and didn't force me to do anything I didn't want.
I opened my mouth and tried to stuff in as much as his cock as I could. When I began to gag I had a little over half of his cock left and I thought to myself fuck it. I'm just gonna work with what I got. I bobbed up and down on his cock and tossed his low hanging big balls in my hand. I spit, I licked, I gagged, I did whatever I thought would make him enjoy it. And he sure did enjoy it because after a while all I heard from him were moans of pleasure, moans that told me to keep going, loud long moans that made his hips buckle and his legs shake.
I could tell Paul was nearing his sexual climax and I wanted to capitalize on this good deed I was doing. I bit down on the head of his cock while licking on whatever I could get my tongue on. He grabbed my cheeks to get a steady grip on my head and I felt hot thick ropes of sperm hitting the back of my throat. His legs were shaking and it looked like he was having a seizure. But sperm doesn't taste as good expected, it was super salty so I spit it all out back on his sock and just sat there on my knees staring at his huge cock. "Not bad for your first time." "I.. I have to go." "Ronaldo whats wrong?" "Nothing. Its not you. I just don't feel safe. I feel like my father is watching me."
Paul quickly looked around the room in anticipation. I guess he thought I actually meant my father was there watching me. But no he wasn't. But I felt like he was right behind me with a tight hold around the back of my neck. Getting myself together I put my clothes carefully back on and walked out of Paul's house.
When I got home I saw father sitting on the couch facing the door with his belt in hand. Maybe he was waiting for me. But no. I wasn't going inside. I refused to let this go on any longer. I reached into my back pocket and found $500 and a note. The note was from Paul and it read "If you're reading this note then good. I want you to use the money and get out of this place. Get away from your crazy ass father and never look back. I want you to know I deeply care about you Ronaldo and no matter how far you go hopefully I'll be in your heart. You're definetly in mine. Take care of yourself kid."
I ran. I ran fast. I ran far. Got on the bus. And never looked back. I have $500 and I'm gonna use it wisely. Maybe live with a person I've became close with through the internet. I had a phone. And I had his number. Never looking back. I'm finished here.