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