tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49865272967636041002024-03-04T23:23:31.904-08:00Free Story DownloadsJ. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.comBlogger15125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4986527296763604100.post-6393356575332484662011-06-04T19:06:00.000-07:002011-06-04T19:06:59.948-07:00Excerpt - Little Boy Lost: VanishedCopyright 2011 (c) - J. P. Barnaby<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><em>This excerpt is from the third Little Boy Lost book - Vanished. Because the book is still in the preparation process, this passage is unedited.</em></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><hr />Tony and Emilio turned away from the bar, and they were each carrying a tray. It wasn’t until they got closer that I could see tiny little glasses of clear liquid. Each tray also had a bowl of lime wedges and a saltshaker. I looked at Mike curiously.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Of course they’d pick tequila,” he sighed. “I’m more of a vodka guy myself. But just watch what we do, kid. It ain’t rocket science.” His face broke into a wicked grin, and he shifted me closer to his lap. “Hey, Kenny, think we should teach the boy how to do body shots?” </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">The rest of the guys laughed at Mike’s question, but I didn’t understand what he meant. I couldn’t imagine he was talking about hitting me, but I wrapped my arms protectively around myself anyway. Kenny looked at Enrique sitting next to him, who just rolled his eyes and nodded. His expression was kind, which made me think they were talking about something more flirtatious than violent. Still, I looked around nervously at the seven other guys now grinning at me.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“At the bar, or…?” Tony asked, but Mike shook his head. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“No, no one plays with our boy but us,” Mike told him in a low voice.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Agreed,” Kenny said and nodded toward a low table that sat in front of one of the couches farther down the wall. “Why don’t you guys go grab that table, it should work fine.”</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Baby, it’s okay. All it means is that we’re going to lick salt off you after a shot. We just want to help you loosen up a little. You’re so fucking serious all the time,” Mike whispered as each guy picked up a glass and a lime. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">Within minutes, I found myself feeling stupid and more than a little nervous as I lay flat on my back on the low wooden table.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">Apparently to Mike, having a group of strange guys licking you wasn’t an issue. The more I thought about it, though, I realized they weren’t strange guys. They were my friends. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">That thought made me smile, and I relaxed.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“That’s it, kid,” Tony said with a laugh. “Hey, Mike, why don’t you go first and show him how it’s done?” Mike nodded and knelt next to the low table. He squirted a little of the lime juice on my neck and sprinkled salt onto it. As I watched, he drank the entire contents of the small glass and then very slowly ran his tongue along my neck, licking up the salt. He finished by stuffing the lime into his mouth. There was a warm tingling sensation on my neck where he’d licked.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Your turn,” he told me and handed me one of the small glasses and a lime as I sat up. I mimicked his actions, applied the lime juice and salt to his neck and then downed the glass. The hacking cough that seemed to start at my feet took every bit of the sexiness out of my licking his neck, but the lime helped to calm it down. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“It’s burning my throat,” I told Mike as he handed me the water Tony had also brought from the bar.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“It’s okay; it just takes some getting used to. You don’t have to drink it at all to hang out with us and have a good time. You can be our designated driver,” Mike said, laughing. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“I don’t have a license,” I told him, taking another drink of the water. The burning in my throat had subsided, and a warm, pleasant feeling had settled over me.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“How can you not have a driver’s license?” Mike asked, sounding completely shocked. “Didn’t they teach you to drive tractors and shit down on the farm?” I smacked him on the arm.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“I just never got around to it,” I replied as someone laid me back down on the table. The truth was that I never wanted to bother Richard and Carolyn with it. Teaching me, taking me for the test, paying for my insurance, it just felt like to much to ask for a foster kid. I always figured I’d get it after I could do it on my own. A hand on my chest pulled me back into the game we were playing. <span class="MsoCommentReference"><span style="font-family: "Calibri", "sans-serif"; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-special-character: comment;"> </span></span></span>Tony was next to take a shot off me, but he decided to do his off my stomach. It took all of my will power not to moan as he licked my stomach. They sat me up again, and I did the same to Tony, licking the salt off his perfectly sculpted stomach while looking up into his eyes. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">Emilio and Carter were next, and they decided to do their shots at the same time, lifting up my shirt and licking salt off my nipples. I felt a little uncomfortable exposing my chest in a bar, but since I took off my shirt almost every day at work, I didn’t worry too much about it. I took a shot off Emilio’s chest, but Kenny pushed me down onto the table before I could take the one off Carter. By then I was on my third shot of tequila, feeling warm all over and a little adventurous.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">Pulling down the right side of my loose jeans, Kenny placed the salt along my exposed right hipbone. I heard Mike hiss from somewhere to my left, and then he watched as Kenny took the shot. The feeling of his tongue on my hip, licking the salt slowly and making sure to find every single grain, made me squirm on the table. Kenny laughed as he stood up until I grabbed the belt loop of his jeans, pulling down the right side. He watched in amazement as I applied the lime and salt and then took the shot. His skin was warm and soft as I licked all over his hip, not even bothering with the pretense of the salt. As I ran the point of my tongue across his hipbone, I looked up into his eyes. Resting my forehead against his stomach, I pulled the side of his jeans back into place, accidentally grazing his crotch with my cheek. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">The room was starting to spin a little.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Holy fucking Christ,” Kenny whispered, but before I could apologize, he’d grabbed Enrique’s hand and dragged him off. I looked nervously at Mike and saw that he was staring at me.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…,” I started to apologize, but then Mike’s face broke out into a smile. “I didn’t mean to make them leave.” I finished a little sheepishly, and he laughed.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Baby, he just dragged his boy to the john so he could fuck him. Believe me; they’ll both thank you for it later.” I looked in the direction that Kenny and Enrique had disappeared. Sure enough, there was a sign for the men’s room. It made me feel powerful and sexy that I could have that kind of effect on another man, especially one as beautiful as Kenny.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“I want one more shot,” Mike said as the rest of the guys started to disappear toward the dance floor. I started to lie back on the table, but Mike pulled me up and toward him so that I was straddling his lap on the couch. He grinned and put the salt on the opposite side of my neck from where he had before. Only he put the lime between my teeth, with the cut side toward him. Taking the shot, he took his time licking and kissing my neck and then my cheek. Using his mouth, he pulled the lime out of mine and sucked the juice out of it, but before I could move away, he was kissing me.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">The kiss started slow and teasing but got deeper as he wrapped his arms around my waist. In the back of my mind, I could hear a kind of voice warning me that I should stop, but the alcohol and the heady arousal muffled the sound. The kiss ended before I could figure out what bothered me about it. I liked the feeling of Mike’s arms around me, the comfort of his kiss. We were just friends; there wasn’t anything wrong with showing affection. The guys in the house were affectionate all the time. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">As I leaned forward in an attempt to get off his lap, my jeans slid down just a little in the back under his fingers, and I heard him groan softly.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Fuck, tell me you’re not freeballin’,” he murmured against my ear over the sound of the music, letting his fingers slide under the waistband on the back of my jeans. At first, I was startled to have him touch me like that. Then I remembered how much Mike loved to fuck around with me, and with my newfound liquid courage, I wanted to let him know that I gave as good as I got. Leaning forward so that my head rested on his shoulder, I moaned softly in his ear. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Mmmmmhmmmm… nothing but the jeans,” I revealed quietly, momentarily distracted by Mike’s heavy breaths on my neck and how he was almost, but not quite, kissing my skin.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Christ, you make me horny,” Mike admitted and sat back against the couch, turning me around and spreading his legs apart so that I could sit between them. I felt his hard cock through his jeans as it grazed my back. I really liked that I could turn him on. It excited me that I could make his body respond by simply whispering in his ear.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">It felt so fucking nice to be wanted.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">We sat on the couch for a while, watching the guys dance. I felt comfortable and warm leaning against Mike. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Come on, kid, let’s go dance,” Mike said, pushing me as Kenny and Enrique emerged from the bathroom looking tousled but happy and relaxed. Kenny winked at me as they passed, and Enrique slapped him on the ass as they both laughed. They were heading in the direction of the dance floor where the rest of our friends were, so Mike and I followed. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">There were a lot of people, but it wasn’t packed. It was the first time in a long time I’d been able to be around a crowd of people and not feel panicky. I guessed that the alcohol in my system was responsible for that, and I had to admit I kind of liked the feeling. The song changed as we walked over to where Tony, Carter, and Kenny were dancing in a circle with the rest of our friends. Without losing a step, they moved and invited us in.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">A new song started, and Emilio, who was shirtless for some reason, squealed like a girl. He moved over to dance in front of me, facing me while Mike pressed against my back. Mike’s hands were on my hips, guiding me to the beat, while Emilio put my hands on his ass and was waving his arms over his head. I giggled. I couldn’t help it. I was sure we looked ridiculous, but it was fun and free, and I finally let loose after holding everything in for so fucking long.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">The song changed again, one with a slightly slower, more sensual beat. Emilio turned around but didn’t move away, reaching back to wrap my arms around his waist. He tried to put my hand near his crotch, but when I resisted, he laughed and put it on his abdomen instead. We were all moving in perfect time with the song, and Mike was singing in my ear. He had a nice voice, low and sweet. As Emilio moved in front of me, his ass was grinding lightly against my crotch just as mine was against Mike. The alcohol was making me feel bold, so I slid my fingers along Emilio’s waistband and caressed his hard stomach as we moved. He moaned and laid his head back on my shoulder.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“You know, mijo, we could play like this whenever you want. The three of us in bed,” he murmured loudly against my skin, kissing my neck. Behind me, Mike was not to be outdone. He pulled my earlobe between his lips, humming softly and whispering how sexy I was. My cock was hard, rubbing freely against my jeans without the barrier that briefs would have provided. I reached up and tangled my fingers in the back of Mike’s hair. He responded by moving one of his hands from my belt loop higher to slide under my shirt, stroking my side. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“God, you have no idea how much I want you to fuck me,” Mike moaned quietly against my ear. That warning voice finally got my attention.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“I think I need another drink,” I panted, from how hard I was. Dancing, grinding between those two incredibly hot guys, was intense. Just as I said it, the song ended and Mike took my hand and led me back to the couch while Emilio stayed out on the floor. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“What would you like, sunshine?” he asked casually as if grinding against one of his friends on the dance floor was no big deal, something he did all the time. For all I knew, it probably was.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“I don’t know, how about a daiquiri?” I asked, naming the only drink I could think of. Carolyn had made them for a couple of friends one night when they had come over for some kind of party for makeup or bowls or something. My brain just wasn’t working right, so I couldn’t remember. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“No, baby. Rule number one of alcohol is never mix. It will make you sick as a fucking dog. Daiquiris are rum, not tequila. How about a margarita or a tequila sunrise?” Mike asked.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Sure,” I said, not caring which one he brought since I didn’t know what they were anyway. He looked at me like he was going to try to get a decision and then just shook his head and went up to the bar. Feeling mellow, I sat back on the couch, watching the dance floor. It was nice to spend one night not thinking.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Here you go,” Mike said, handing me a colorful orange and red drink with a long straw buried in its depths. The drink he was carrying for himself was clear and fizzing like a lemon-lime soda. I took several long pulls through the straw, and my mostly empty stomach filled with a pleasant warmth.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“If you start to feel sick, you let me know,” he warned and climbed back on the couch behind me even though we were the only ones on it. My cock, which had softened nicely after Mike went to get the drinks, started twitching at the feeling of his breath on my neck. It was like being wrapped in a fuzzy blanket early in the morning: warm, happy, and aroused. I decided to enjoy it.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">After several more dances and another few rounds of the pretty orange and red drinks, I looked at my phone to see what time it was and couldn’t read it. Hitting the button on the side to turn on the backlight, I still couldn’t read it. I was so tired.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Fuck, theresomething wrong wiff my phone,” I told Mike as I lay on the couch with my head in his lap, fighting the urge to sleep. “I can’tsee time itis.” He laughed and took the phone from me. I closed my eyes, letting him have it.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“It’s a little past eleven, and I think it’s time for us to go home, baby boy. You’re fucking loaded,” he said with a chuckle, and I heard him talking to someone else but I couldn’t make out what he was saying.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">When I opened my eyes again, we were in the Jeep.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Werenyou drunken too?” I asked, trying to put on my seat belt and failing. Mike reached over and pulled the strap across my body, and I heard the elusive click as it snapped into place.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“I’m older, bigger, and more experienced with booze than you,” he informed me, and then I felt his lips against mine as he kissed me slowly. I couldn’t think of anything but how it made my body feel. Moaning into the kiss, it seemed like my heart beat harder, causing me to feel a little dizzy. It had been so fucking long since I’d felt like that.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">Mike pulled back and kissed me on the forehead before putting the Jeep in reverse.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">The next thing I knew, Mike was helping me out of the Jeep and into the house. It took a long time for us to get up the stairs to the second floor. I just wanted to sleep.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Baby, where are your keys?” Mike asked when we finally got to the door to my room. I looked at him, feeling confused because I didn’t know why he needed my keys if we were already home. Looking up and down the hall, Mike swore under his breath and muttered that I must have left them in the Jeep. He sighed and pulled me toward his room. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">We were gonna have a sleepover like Jamie and I used to have.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">I missed being held.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">My heart hurt.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">Mike held me up with one arm as he unlocked the door to his room with the other. </div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">My throat burned.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">I didn’t want to think anymore.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">As Mike closed the door behind us, I pushed him back up against it, feeling my whole body pressed against his. I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in his neck.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Smell good,” I told him as I began to kiss and nuzzle his skin.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Uhm, hi there,” Mike said with a chuckle as he put a hand on my shoulder to stop me from kissing his neck. “I’m buzzin too, kid, so you don’t want to be doing that.”</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“You don’ want meeether,” I said, finally letting a little of the heartache out. Then my voice dropped to a whisper, and I choked out, “’M so fuckin’ sick of nobody wantin’ me.”</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Baby, I do want you,” Mike soothed, pulling me closer and stroking my hair. “I just don’t want to take advantage of you.”</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“So alone, all the time,” I sighed, wrapping my arms tighter around him. “Don’ wanna be alone anymore.”</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Shhhhhh… you’re not alone, we’re all here, angel,” Mike said after a moment, and his voice sounded clogged, stuffy.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“He leff. Never looked to find me. Hurtsso much, Mike,” I told him, and I could feel that I was shaking but couldn’t stop it.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Micah,” Mike whispered. “My name is Micah.”</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“Please, Micah. Just tonight. Want to feel…. I can’t…. It hurts,” I begged, and I could hear the desperation even over the haze of the booze fogging my brain. I didn’t even know if what I was saying made any sense, and I knew I should just go to sleep.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">His lips were soft and gentle as he kissed me.</div><div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;">“I know what it’s like to feel alone,” Micah whispered against my lips with long, tender kisses as he pulled me into his bed. </div>J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4986527296763604100.post-90476916048805904502011-04-12T04:13:00.000-07:002011-04-12T04:13:06.444-07:00All the Wrong ReasonsCopyright (c) 2011 - J. P. Barnaby & Liz Sentry<br />
<a href="http://dl.dropbox.com/u/18662024/AllTheWrongReasons_Barnaby_Sentry.pdf">.pdf Download</a><br />
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<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 24pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">All the Wrong Reasons</span><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">J. P. Barnaby</span></i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">&</span></i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Liz Sentry</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">CAMERON FINCH</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><hr align="center" noshade="noshade" size="1" style="color: #aca899;" width="100%" /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"What the hell do you mean, 'God made me this way'?" My father asked me, his face nearly purple with rage. I knew he wasn't going to take my coming out well, but I hadn't expected him to get so angry. "God doesn't make freaks, this is all on you boy." He snorted, and then walked away. Looking to my mother, hoping that she would at least have an open mind; my heart broke to see tears on her face. She shook her head slowly.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Cameron, have you even tried dating a girl, I mean," she started, her eyes darting around the room. I noticed with a sinking realization that they were trying to focus anywhere but on me. My own mother wouldn't even look at me. Why had I done this now? I could have gone off to college next year and never said a word. What have I accomplished besides making my own parents hate me? Her voice dropped to a whisper "have you tried <i>not</i> being gay?" I almost laughed out loud at her. Had I tried not being gay? Like I fucking wanted to be someone that people despised on principle. Turning on my heel, I left the room and took the stairs two at a time, almost running to get away from them both.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">They were still trying to decide whose fault it was that I turned out to be a fag. My father hurled at my mother that she coddled me too much, that she turned me into a sissy. I had caught that little tidbit just as I passed my last school picture hanging at the top of the stairs. My mother had sneered back that he never made the time to play sports with me as my hand had turned the knob on my bedroom door. I flung myself on the bed, and turned on the iHome sitting on my bedside table. A flurry of loud angry notes exploding from speakers, almost as loud as the screaming voices in my head, drowned out my parents downstairs. The loudest voice sounded conspicuously like my older sister, even though she was probably sitting in her dorm room. She was telling me that I was an idiot for thinking they would accept me. Now, I wished to God that I had listened.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Why couldn't they understand that I was still a normal teenage boy? I still had the same homework, the same posters on the wall, even the same desire to be a computer engineer just like my dad. Looking over to my desk, I saw the on laptop in pieces across the work surface. I had been putting in a new motherboard when I got the brilliant idea that now would be a good time to come out to my parents. Rolling off the bed, I sat down at the desk and picked up the soldering iron. My dad had been the one to teach me how to do this. He always loved showing me the ins and outs of computers in the hope that one day I would be a whiz at them, just as he was. He had been right. I could take them apart, program them, network them, and pretty much do anything else I wanted with them. College was just a formality at this point. I hoped I would still get to go.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Now, they had every reason to donate my college fund to charity.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I started to hyperventilate as the impact of what I'd done settled over me. The fear rooted itself deep as I wondered if he would kick me out. Would this ostracize me from my family? How could I have been so stupid? Tossing the dismantled laptop to the floor, I turned on my own quad core PC. It had been finely tuned, and over clocked for peak performance. When everything had loaded, I logged into my chat software and immediately went invisible. There was only one person I wanted to talk to right now, and I really hoped she was on. She wasn't. I sighed and picked up my cell phone.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It rang only once before she answered.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Ali, are you busy? I could really use my big sister," I said, and even I could hear the tears threatening. At that moment, I just needed someone who would listen, someone who would love me no matter what I said. Foolishly, I had thought that would be my mother. The tears started to fall as I realized how wrong I had been.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"You told them, didn't you?" she asked with a sigh. I sniffled, wiping my tears on my sleeve and nodded. Realizing she couldn't hear me fucking nod, I mumbled my acknowledgement. She was silent for a few minutes. The murmur of voices in the background stopped abruptly with the slamming of a door.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Are you okay?" she asked quietly.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I don't think so," I responded, the tears falling in earnest now. We talked for nearly an hour, her words of encouragement beaded on the surface of my heart, like water on the hood of a car. They could not sink in with my heart so full of despair.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I went back to school, I went back to my part time job at the library, I went back to doing everything I had done before – but there was no joy in it. My friends, the ones who were still in the dark about my sexuality, tried to console me but it was useless. They didn't understand. No one understood. Now my parents were steadfastly ignoring me. I wasn't sure if it was because they didn't know what to say, or because they were disgusted with me. There was little recourse for me either way. I just continued to exist, for the sake of existing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Then, one night nearly a month later, the storm broke.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I came home to find both of my parents sitting in the living room waiting for me. A man I had never seen before waited with them. Instantly wary, I set my bag down by the door and walked into the room. He perched on the edge of a winged back chair by the fire, while my parents occupied the couch. They all looked somewhat nervous, and I started to get a bad feeling. The man dressed in plain, almost deliberately ordinary clothes—a sweater turtleneck and jeans. I got the feeling that he wanted me to feel comfortable with him. Well, he was failing miserably, because all I felt was anxious.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Cameron, darling, would you come and sit with us. We'd like to talk to you," my mother said, her voice shaking slightly. Oh God, that didn't bode well. I considered grabbing my bag and making a run for it, but where would I go? I didn't have anyone, any home that I could go to besides this one. I sat down in the only other chair in the room. It was a straight-backed wooden thing that always made me feel like the subject of an inquisition. That feeling intensified exponentially as they all watched me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">My mother picked stiffly at the sleeves of her grey silk blouse, avoiding my eyes. I looked to my father next, but he was watching the man who had sat forward towards me. The fear bubbled in my stomach like acid, churning what little I'd eaten, making me a bit nauseated Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes for a fraction of a second, willing the fear to dissipate. It only swelled as he started to speak.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Cameron, my name is Dr. Albert Snow," he said, pushing the graying hair back from his wrinkled, once pointed face. "Your parents asked me here because they want me to help you," he said, in a painfully pleasant voice.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I sat there stoically while the man, this "doctor", spelled out the philosophies and strategies of The Center. I listened as he threw around terms such as "gender- affirmative therapy" and "cognitive-behavioral intervention". My mind began to go numb as I realized that my parents had brought this man here to tell me that they were locking me away until I was no longer gay. They might as well have been locking me away until my eyes were no longer blue or until I grew a fucking uterus. Why was this happening? Why didn't they understand? It wasn't until every noise in the room stopped that I realized that my dad had asked me a question.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I'm sorry?" I responded.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Are you willing to undergo treatment at The Center?" My father said again with an air of finality. He had solved the problem of his gay son; all that remained was to document his time like a good worker bee, and move on to the next problem.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Do I have a choice?" I mumbled.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Of course you do," my dad answered, and I felt my body relax in relief until he started talking again. "You can go to The Center and straighten yourself out, or you can go upstairs and pack."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A week later, I kicked off my summer before college by walking into The Center with my parents flanking me like guards, and my head held in shame for what I was about to do. I listened to the director explain to my parents about rules about what I could bring with me, and about visiting hours I held little hope they would attend. I sat blankly staring at my hands wondering what lie they would be telling the people at the country club. Cameron is at camp. Cameron is participating in a computer science program at his new school, and we are just so proud. It would never be the truth. The truth was that I was selling myself to The Center for a hope at redemption with the only people in my life that mattered.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">My father shook my hand, and my mother left an absent kiss on my cheek before I watched them walk out of the front door of The Center. Hand-in-hand, they abandoned me to my fate. All I could think about was the time that they took me to the Texas State Fair when I was eight. Back then, I still worshiped my parents. They were my whole world. My dad had enthusiastically talked to me about the exciting new technology they were starting to incorporate into horticulture and farming practices. I listened to every word from my hero's mouth, not understanding a word but excited that he wanted to share it with me. Then they had indulged me with cotton candy and corn dogs. My strongest memory of that day, though, was them each taking one of my hands and swinging me every forth step between them. I could still see the love and the laughter on their faces. The image consumed me as I watched the backs of these same two people walking away from me, clutching to each other's hands, the space for me eradicated by my own naiveté.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Cameron, this way," a voice behind me said. I mechanically picked up my suitcase, and followed the man down the hallway. I think he said his name was Steven. He pointed out the rec room, the cafeteria, the laundry, the various session rooms, and the hallway in which Dr. Snow's office was located.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">My mandatory sessions with him started in an hour.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Finally, we entered the dormitory wing. As we walked down the hallway, I looked into the open doors of the rooms we passed. Some boys were intently writing in journals. Others turned to give me blank looks before empty eyes returned to looking out the barred windows. No matter how hard they tried here at The Center, they could not get these particular caged birds to sing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Some boys stepped into the hallway to gawk at the 'new boy', and quietly whispered amongst themselves. Their stares nearly bored a hole in me as I passed. They were stares of judgment, stares of lust, and some were even stares of empathy. None of these stares contained any measure of hope.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"This is your room, Cameron," Steven announced pointing into the small, dank and barren room. Infested by some warped version of Noah's Ark, there was two of everything in the bleak institutionalized room. Two desks bolted to the floor, two dressers built right into the wall, and two sets of uncomfortable looking bunks.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"How many boys to a room?" I asked him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"It used to be four to a room when The Center opened," he explained, gesturing to the two sets of bunks, "but now most rooms are one or two boys." Briefly, I wondered if business was bad because they failed to meet their objectives, or if people were realizing that homosexuality wasn't something you could cure. I never once thought that the beds were empty because of their success. "You are on your own for now. So, get yourself settled, and head to Dr. Snow's office in an hour. Don't forget your journal!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Minutes melded into hours.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Hours melded into days.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Days melded into months.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I remained incarcerated in The Center, forced to endure the rigors of a hollow routine. My only solace was that classes would be starting in a few weeks and I would have to leave soon to move into the dorm. I would live permanently ensconced in the closet.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">For now, I merely existed, stumbling like a decapitated corpse through the beige concrete block hallways. The familiar faces were reflections of my own confusion and despondency. Sad boys imprisoned for simply wanting to love how our hearts and minds dictated. So much for living in the land of the free and the home of the brave, apparently those ideals didn't apply to us. Reflecting on the concessions I'd made to end up here, I wondered what promises these other boys were clinging to in order to survive the psychological battering of being told daily that you are fundamentally flawed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Tuesday afternoon sessions are the worst, so I was already irritated as I sat in the common area waiting for it to start. That's when I first saw him. He was lead in the front doors by a man in full Marine dress uniform and a woman in a crisp peach suit. He was wearing a pair of khaki pants and a starched stiff button down white shirt topped with a navy blazer. He shared his father's chiseled jaw and tall, lean build. Despite his recently shaved cut, I could tell it was the same color as his mother's tightly coiffed hair. I heard some whispers around me, but the buzz of the others and the shine of his shoes could not detract me from the purple and blue that decorated his right cheek. Involuntarily, my hand raised to my own cheek tracing on my own face where his was bruised, shocked at the thought of someone being beaten into submitting to this treatment. I was making a desperate grasp at my college fund in coming here, and here was that boy who was risking so much more. I suddenly felt very weak and a coward, as I watched the boy, head held high, march into the director's office.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"That's Josh Pennington," the boy next to me whispered, noticing the direction of my stare.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Do you know him from school?" I asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"No," he laughed without humor. "He's been here before."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I always thought that this was a one-time deal, pass or fail. It never occurred to me that my parents or anyone else's for that matter could continually torture us with this place until we were miraculously straight. The despair that had been building throughout my stay here, intensified until it smothered me. I couldn't face group today, I didn't have the strength to pretend. Nearly turning over my chair as I stood, I forced myself not to sprint as I made my way to my room.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The footsteps in the hallway alerted me that they were coming, but I had only just sat up in my bed when Stephen showed Josh Pennington into my room. After having no roommate for months, it felt a little odd to have him here. He nodded once at me, not bothering to introduce himself, and crawled into his bunk curling in on himself and staring blankly at the wall. I had the strangest urge to hold him in that moment, this boy that I had never even seen. Josh Pennington reminded me forcibly of a dog that someone had beaten for most of his life. The dog always went back to his master to lick his hand, trying to gain his favor, only to be kicked again for his trouble. This beautiful boy, whatever his failings, was broken and my despair was suddenly replaced by compassion.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">In gender affirmation group therapy, affectionately referred to by most of the clientele as GAG therapy, I finally heard the new boy speak. Reserved, but articulate, he answered the questions that the group leader posed to him, but otherwise remained quiet. It was clear that he was here to appease his parents, most likely to avoid another beating. I participated as much as required, but my quiet, new roommate distracted me. He stared at his fingers while the others talked, and seemed to be subtly, yet rhythmically, tapping on his thighs. The only time he ever looked up was when I spoke, and I almost thought I saw a ghost of a smile dancing on his lips.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I didn't see Josh again until that evening at dinner. Other boys who had served their time with him before surrounded him at the table. Apparently, he wasn't the only repeat performer. I watched him laugh and converse with the boys. They seemed to hang on his every word, and I couldn't blame them. He was a beautiful boy, and very charismatic. Despite his home life, he had a natural confidence. I wondered if it killed his spirit to be here and tell the lies required for escape from this prison, as it did for me. From my lonely table across the room, I saw what no one else was seeing. Though he was laughing and sharing stories, Josh was not touching one bite of his food. I have never known a teenage boy who didn't eat, and the only time I never ate was when I was sick or upset. That is the first moment I saw through his facade.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Later that night, we both sat quietly in our room; we were both in our beds scribbling away in our journals for the next day. I was struggling with my wording, trying to say what I thought they wanted to hear while trying to stay true to myself. I was working on dancing a dance of ambiguity. Josh, on the other hand, was whipping through his with amazing speed. The speed of a person seasoned in the art of lying. Soon he was tossing his journal onto his desk and leaning back in his bed closing his eyes and humming softly to himself. Only the rumble of his stomach disrupted the dreamy melody falling from his lips. He rubbed his abdomen quickly giving me an apologetic look and I returned it with an understanding smile. I shut my book, and reached behind me into the bottom drawer of my desk for an apple, granola bar, and a pudding cup that I snuck into my jacket pockets at dinner. I tossed them across the room and onto his bed. He looked up at me in happy surprise.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Where did you get this?" He asked looking down at the food in front of him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I thought I might get hungry later," I shrugged, doing my best to pretend it was no big deal.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"You could have gotten in big trouble if you were caught," his brow furrowed in concern as he looked from the apple in his hand before he raised his eyes to meet mine.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Well, at least now I won't lose a night's worth of sleep listening to your stomach eat itself," I said before returning to my journal.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Just as he was about to say something, there was a sharp knock at our door, Josh had the food under his pillow before the door was thrown open and Steven was standing before us. We both looked over at him, and he seemed shocked to see the serene scene in front of him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Everything OK here?" He asked looking at me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Yeeesss..." I said confused. "Why wouldn't it be?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Steven tossed Josh a pointed look, before speaking again, "Make sure you do your journal for tomorrow, Josh."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"It's done," he said gesturing to the book on his desk.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Well, don't bother Cameron while he works on his," he said pointedly.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"The only thing I might have been bothering Cameron with is my humming, which wouldn't be a necessary torture, if you guys would allow us to have music in our room," he said. "Unless you want to let me into the music room now?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"You can wait for your assigned time, Josh. Nice try though," Josh sighed and shrugged. "Good night, boys."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"What the hell was that about?" I whispered after Steven closed the door.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I might have been caught in a compromising position with a former roommate," he said with a slight blush, but an unapologetic smile on his face.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Oh," I said and blushed a little myself.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The next few weeks were full of the same routine I had been living with the exception that I was starting to get to know my new roommate. Everything was so easy when it came to him. Our conversations flowed easily over topics such as movies and music. Beyond that, we could spend hours of comfortable silence as we read or wrote. I had never met anyone in which everything was so effortless.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Josh was also showing me the balance of beating The Center at their own game. We became a team. Both of us occasionally dropping hints about girls that the other seemed to be interested in. Mine was a girl I insisted was "just a friend" back home. Josh's was the admissions administrator from Harvard's School of Music. It was hard to stifle a smile every time I saw the pleased look on the staff members’ faces as they looked proud at the work they were doing when we spouted our lies. We would laugh together once we were back in our room at night at how Stephen frantically scribbled with a triumphant look when Josh said he mentioned that I received another letter from my friend "Jenny". My sister Candy had really sent the letters. Josh really was communicating with a woman from Harvard, but it was strictly about getting the final pieces of his portfolio in before school started in the fall.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We also talked about the freedom of eighteen that was just within our grasps. Harvard had accepted Josh into their pre-law program. He wanted to advocate for those of us who were voiceless under the banner of the law, though he admitted that his parents were living under the guise that he was going into corporate law like his grandfather. He told me that he had also conversed with the head of the music school, and hoped to minor in concert piano. I couldn't help myself as I felt the smile grow on my face as he talked of his passion for music. When I told him of my acceptance to M.I.T., and my love of computers and electronics, I saw an excited gleam in his eyes.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"You realize we will both be in Boston," Josh said with a smile.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I had realized that," I said looking down at my hands before raising my eyes to meet his. "It will be nice to be starting out in a strange city with a friend."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I am happy that friend will be you, Cameron," Josh said softly.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A loud knock at our door startled us, and both of our eyes went wide as Dr. Snow entered the room.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Good evening, boys," he said in his falsely saccharine way. "Cameron, I hear you are quite good with computers."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Yes, sir," I choked out and coughed to clear my voice. "I am."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I was wondering if I might enlist your assistance," he answered. "The monitor's machine in the multi-purpose room is giving us fits. Might you be able to take a look?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Yes, sir," I said getting up and following him from the room.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I sat down at the machine and did my diagnostics while Dr. Snow perched in a nearby chair until I had my answer.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I can fix this, sir, but it will take at least an hour depending on how deep the problem is. You'll also want to order a few parts for this machine, because this drive won't hold up for long," I said looking at him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Thanks, Cameron," he said. "I don't know how we can repay you for your kindness."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">At that moment, looking across the room to the corner, inspiration struck along with a sudden surge of bravery.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Well, sir, music makes the tediousness of this task go faster. Might Josh be allowed to come down and play while I will work? I know he has been trying to finish a piece for his portfolio for Harvard," I said innocently, then just to secure it in the way Josh was teaching me, I added. "You know...I think he is just trying to impress that admissions girl that keeps reminding him of his pending deadline. I think he is stalling so he can keep talking to her."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Is that so?" Dr. Snow said looking pensive, but the slight smile on his lips betrayed him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I think she is really impressed by him, too," I added. "I've never heard him play, myself."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Well, I think it would be alright for him to come down, while you work, if in fact you think it will only take an hour or so," he said standing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Yes, sir," I nodded. "Shouldn't be any longer than that, and I can install the new parts when you get them."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Very good," he said walking towards the door. "Just bring the list of what is need to our session on Wednesday. I will send Josh down, so you can both get some work done."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I turned back towards the computer and started clicking around as he walked out the door of the room. A few minutes later, a confused Josh came back in through the door, clutching his composition book.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"How the fuck did you swing this, Cameron?" He said walking towards me his face shifting from confusion to glee as he saw the stupidly wide grin on my own face.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Southern charm, friend. Southern charm," I said leaning back and putting my hands behind my head. He barked out a laugh, before his face got serious.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Thanks, Cameron," he said softly toying with the edge of his book.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"It was purely selfish. It is too damn quiet in here, and plus, I have never heard you play," I said smiling.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Any requests?" He asked as he walked toward the piano.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Whatever you want to play, Liberace," I laughed. He glared at me. "I'm teasing. I thought you were writing original stuff for your admissions."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I am, but I usually warm up with more familiar pieces," he said setting up his book and settling on the bench.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"You play. I'll listen," I said starting back to work on my own project.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I ran tests and checked settings as Josh started with running through some scales to warm up. Part way through his warm up, Steven poked his head into the room, no doubt to spy to make sure this wasn't all a ruse. I barely gave him a glance before going back to my work. Josh, whether feigned or not, didn’t appear to hear him. Steven, seeming satisfied with what he found, left the room. A moment later, the scales gave way to the music.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I had never heard anything more beautiful.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He had been tossing and turning for nearly an hour, and I found myself unable to sleep because of his distress. I wanted so much to just roll from my uncomfortable, institutional bunk and crawl into his. I wanted to hold him. I wanted to take away his demons. The moonlight filtered in from the high windows and illuminated his form, momentarily stilled as he rested on his back. One of his hands gripped the sheet, as if it was tethering him, as if he would truly be lost without it. The other hand rested on the smooth, soft skin of his stomach, just above where the sheet lay across the top of his sleep pants. He slept like this every night, in only a crisp, perfect pair of sleep pants that appeared to be brand new. Even in prison, he reflected on his parents and they wanted him presentable at all times. They wanted him to be a good little soldier.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The bruise on his side, the one that overlaid his barely visible ribcage, was fading now, but not completely gone. My insides burned just thinking about someone hurting him, but seeing it made me angry. It made me sad. It made me protective. No one had the right to hurt this boy, least of all for something he could not control. The injustice of it made me want to run to my parents to get them to help. Unfortunately on that score, I was in little better position. They had made it perfectly clear that this was a test, and God help me should I fail.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Josh shifted again, and a low moan escaped his lips. Whether it was from sorrow, or from pain I wasn't able to tell, but it caused my heart to throb painfully in my chest. The temptation to hold him overpowered any other judgment, and silently, I rolled off my bunk. The linoleum floor was freezing beneath my bare feet, as I padded across to where he lay. It was only then that I saw my dilemma. He was lying in the center of the small bed prohibiting me from climbing into it without waking him. I knelt lightly next to the bed, contemplating when he started to stir again. Now that I was closer, I could him his soft whimpering, and it tore at me. The soft, nearly inaudible phrase "mom, please', caused my throat to burn. I reached over and laid my hand on his.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He came awake with a start, and cringed from me before he got a good look at who was kneeling at his bedside. Then, our eyes locked, and that last wall fell away. He scooted to the very back edge of the bed and came up on his side to face me. I didn't even wait for him to pull back the blankets before I tore them back and climbed in with him. Pulling him into my arms, I felt the soft scruff on his cheek against my bare chest. I didn't have a lot of experience sexually, with guys or girls, being relatively shy and unsure about myself, but as his cheek grazed my nipple I felt a jolt of sheer need. My body flushed with heat, and I was afraid he could feel it. I didn't want this to be about sex. I wanted it to be about comfort.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Josh had other ideas.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">When our lips met, the raw emotion and devastating arousal coursed through my body with such intensity that it honestly frightened me a bit. Never in my life had I dreamed that I could feel like this about another person. Sure, I'd rubbed a few out in the shower in my time, but that was nothing compared to this. The moan escaped me before I could stop it, and before I realized what was happening, I was underneath him. The entire length of his body pressed against mine, and my breathing was now shallow and rapid around our frenzied kisses. Unable to stop myself, and shocked by my own audacity, I wrapped one of my legs around his waist. He responded by rubbing his hips against mine, as I groaned softly into his mouth.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I wanted him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Where we were, even who we were, those things were irrelevant in this moment. My heart sang as his hand sought out mine. Our fingers intertwined without any conscious effort, without even breaking our kiss, as if they were meant to be that way. The emotion of the moment astounded me. It was like love at first sight, love at first kiss, only stronger.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It was so much stronger.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We lay, half-naked, kissing and talking and the heat of the moment never waned. I was hard as he licked the spot on my neck just below my ear, and I was hard when he told me about how he wanted to lay me across his piano, and I was hard when he rubbed my erection through my pajama pants. Yes, I was certainly hard then. He had just slid his hand beneath my waistband and was stroking me skin on skin when we heard a noise in the hall. We both froze.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The door banged open and Stephen stood there with two hard-faced guards.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"You guys need to get up and get dressed," he sighed, "Dr. Snow wants to talk to you both. Your parents have been called." I felt Josh shaking on top of me, jerking his hand out of my pajama pants. Slowly, we started to get off the bunk as the guards closed the door, presumably to give us time to dress. Josh ran to his dresser and started pulling out clothes, stuffing them into a duffle. The few things he had here fit easily into it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Josh, what are you doing?" I asked him, still terrified by the prospect of my parents finding out about what just happened. They would imprison me here through my first year of college. Rather than working with computers, I would be learning how to tow the line. The dread was so overwhelming that I had to sit down at my desk while I watched him feverishly finish packing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I can't stay here, Cameron," he panted, now starting to dress. "He will kill me." The look on his face showed me that he wasn't kidding, and that he wasn't exaggerating. Whatever kind of relationship Josh had with his family, he truly believed that his father would end his life over being found in bed with me. Opening my drawers, he started to throw my stuff into his duffel as well.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Utterly dazed by the surreal actions of this desperate boy, I pulled down jeans and a t-shirt and started to dress. I didn't bother trying to stop him from packing my stuff. He would just have to put it back when we returned to the room anyway. Okay, I'm sure they'd split us up, but the point was, we could not escape. We were trapped. If packing helped him to feel better though, I wouldn't deny him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I was just putting on my shoes when the door opened again.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Josh, why do you have your stuff packed?" Stephen asked with a note of surprise. "There is no reason to think that Dr. Snow would make you leave?" Defiantly, and with more bravado than I'm sure he felt, Josh wrapped the strap for the duffel around his shoulder pushing it behind his back.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I'm not letting you bastards get your hands on my stuff like last time. Half of it was missing by the time I got to my new room. I'm taking it with me!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Okay, Josh, okay," Stephen replied, putting his hands up in front of him in a futile effort to calm Josh. "Bring your stuff if you want, just come with us. Everything will be okay, you'll see." Josh snorted, but allowed them to lead him from the room. I followed close behind.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">When we got about half way down the hall, Josh doubled over, overcome with the grief of having to face his parents, no doubt. The guards sighed, and Stephen bent down to console him. What happened next was so fast that I almost missed it. With a quick move that could only have been learned from his military father, Josh nailed Stephen in the balls. Stephen doubled over, and Josh collapsed to the ground. The guards stood over him, and Josh rolled quickly to use the heel of each sneaker to do nail each of them as well.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Run</i>!" he yelled into my stunned face.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Unable to believe what I had just witnessed, I scrambled after Josh as he raced down the hall. Our sneakers squeaked as we raced around the corner, and ran full tilt down the dormitory hallway. At the sound of the first guard's voice yelling for us to stop, Josh grasped my hand and barreled through the door of the game room. He expertly navigated us in and out of the interconnected rooms of the Center. I stumbled along beside him and often behind him, but we held tight to each other's hands as if our lives depended on it. Finally, Josh pulled us into the laundry and locked the door. We slid some large boxes in front of the doors and hid amongst the numerous machines, trying to catch our breath. Josh was soon kneeling in front of me, taking both of my hands in his.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Come with me," he pled looking deeply into my eyes.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Where?" I asked my own eyes desperately searching his for the answers I was hoping he held.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I have an aunt and uncle in Washington who will take me in. They told me to call them the next time my dad hit me. I just didn't have time before they dragged me here. I just know they would let you stay too, Cameron, please!" Josh asked frantically checking the door as much as he begged with his eyes.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Washington, Josh? How will we get there? We have no money," I was desperate to believe that we could do this, but I was afraid of what would happen if we failed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"We'll get there," Josh assured me cupping my face in his hands and kissing me solidly. "We have to go now."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The voices were getting closer, and I still sat there wavering. Could I do this? Could we do this? We could hear people approaching the laundry, and both of our heads flew up to the door.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Cameron, baby, please," Josh begged, his eyes filling with tears. "I don't want to leave you, but I cannot let them send me back. Please, Cameron, let's go!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The last part came out frantic and he got to his feet holding out his hand out to me. Just then, someone started fumbling with the door.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"It's locked," the loud male voice yelled out down the hall. Next, we could hear the clink of keys approaching, and I jumped to my feet staring at the door. Josh started backing towards the back wall with wide, scared eyes.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Cameron," he hoarsely whispered beckoning me with his hand as he continued to back towards the large window at the back of the room.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I watched as he picked up a laundry cart and hurled it through the plate glass window, kicking out the rest of the glass. I froze once again as the key scraped into the lock. Josh saw the doubt in my eyes, and his eyes saw the green expanse that spelled freedom ahead of him. He grabbed me forcefully by the back of my neck and crashed his lips to mine in one last desperate kiss that spelled out his good-byes and his apologies for the fact he was about to leave me behind. He broke the kiss and touched his forehead to mine, his eyes boring into my own, and then he was gone.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">As I watched him run across the dark expanse of the grounds in front of the center, my heart nearly broke. That last kiss, the one full of quiet desperation, still burned on my lips. I had never met anyone that understood me like Josh did. Nor, anyone that loved me as he did.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">There was no fucking way I was letting go of that.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Josh!" I screamed as I climbed quickly through the destruction that used to be a window. He turned, and the smile that lit up his face made me realize that no matter where we ended up, he would always be my home.</span></div>J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4986527296763604100.post-29121718057065739662011-03-19T23:35:00.000-07:002011-03-19T23:35:02.823-07:00Excerpt - Little Boy Lost: AbandonedCopyright 2011 (c) - J. P. Barnaby<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><em>This excerpt is from the second Little Boy Lost book - Abandoned. Because the book is still in the preparation process, this passage is unedited.</em></span><br />
<hr /><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> Christmas morning dawned bright and clear, and I couldn’t help the sadness that invaded my heart. It should’ve been my first of many Christmases as Jamie’s boyfriend. Instead, I was lying in bed alone, feeling the nearly suffocating weight of his absence as I looked up at his picture in its frame. The night before, I’d trimmed it neatly to remove the two boys, because after Adam had told me of their suspected involvement in the murder of that boy, I could not stand to look at them anymore. It was as if their presence poisoned the beauty of the setting and of Jamie, and I did not want anything to taint my memory, or image, of him. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">We generally didn’t go all out for Christmas at the Schreibers’ as some families did. I remember Jamie feeling particularly disgruntled on my behalf when he found out that my foster parents had only bought me jeans and tennis shoes for Christmas when we were twelve. The Schreibers didn’t have a lot, and the clothes were something that I had really wanted. Jamie, of course, had gotten a new bike and a ton of other toys, which he promptly declared to be “ours.” Even then, even before we had any idea just how much we’d meant to each other, he’d been generous and kind. Since then, Richard and Carolyn had moved from stuff that I needed to stuff that I wanted, like different kits or parts for my models. Jamie had been satisfied with that but still decided that his best gifts would be stuff we’d share.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">I wiped away the wetness from my face as I remembered those years with Jamie, before the world had changed and grown dark.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Lying quietly as the sun rose outside my window, I listened to the silence from the other rooms in the house. Richard and Carolyn apparently weren’t up yet, and I wasn’t surprised. When he was working, Richard had been up early most mornings and enjoyed being able to sleep in after all those years. Not wanting to disturb the tranquility, I stayed in bed with my eyes trained on Jamie’s brilliantly captured smile. Still resting back against the pillows, I closed my eyes and pictured him in my head. His soft hair under my fingers as I stroked it, his warm skin under my lips as I kissed it, the heady sound of his ragged moans as we lay hidden in our sanctuary.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Listening once again for any signs of movement in the house, I sat up and pulled off my T-shirt, letting it fall next to the bed. As I settled back, an image of Jamie came into my mind, a memory from one of our forbidden nights together. It was the closest we’d ever come to making love until that last night together before we were discovered. Lost in the heat of the memory, I ran my hands lightly over my stomach, up my chest, and stroked one of my <a href="http://www.blogger.com/" style="mso-comment-reference: A_1;">nipples</a></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/" style="mso-comment-reference: A_2;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">It</span></i></a><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> began the way most of our lovemaking started, with slow, deep kissing as he lay above me. The sensations of Jamie’s hand caressing my face while his other arm was around me made me feel cherished and loved. I tried to express every bit of the burning love, the need I felt for him in the kiss because I wanted him to feel it too. His lips were warm on my neck, his quiet, deep breaths soft in my ear as his hand slid from my back and began caressing my stomach under my shirt. I reached for his shirt, my desire to feel his naked skin against mine nearly overwhelming. Jamie pulled back, and I used the opportunity to push him down onto his back, smiling as I pulled his T-shirt over his head. The smooth lines of his chest were visible in the pale moonlight coming from the open window. Running my hand down over his chest, I watched his eyes close as my fingers moved gently over his stomach and then across his thigh. He sucked in a sharp breath as my hand encountered his swelling cock trapped in the confines of his jeans. </span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Focusing my attention on his chest, I kissed his shoulder, my tongue traveling an indistinct path over his pecs until I reached the pebbled nipple, which was my destination. I sucked on it, listening to the sweet sound of his moan as his fingers weaved into my hair. Moving my lips to the other side of his chest, my hand caressed the soft skin of his stomach. As I bit down on his sensitive nipple, he grabbed my hand on his stomach and moved it down until he was using it to rub his erection through his jeans, seemingly unable to control the impulse. I sighed quietly into his chest, laying my cheek against his warm skin as I rubbed him, stroking his cock through the thick denim. His hips came up to meet my hand as his body strained, lifting into my touch. </span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Jamie’s uncontrolled sounds, the groans and whimpers, were like a fan to the passion that was welling in me. I moved up so my face was cradled against his shoulder, my lips pressing into his neck. Letting go of my hand, he reached up, and we parted as he pulled my shirt off. I loved the feeling of his hot, naked skin against mine. He pulled me down on top of him so that his legs were on either side of my hips as our stomachs and chests were flat against each other. I felt his heels against my thighs and wondered briefly how it would feel if my cock was buried deep inside of him. Desperately I whimpered against his lips as we kissed and my hips ground in sensuous circles, my cock rubbing along his.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“Tell me what you want,” I half-moaned, half-whispered into his ear as I covered his trembling body with my own.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“I…,” he started, but faltered as his face flushed. I could feel the heat of it against my cheek and saw his neck begin to suffuse with red. Even shy, he was so incredibly sexy.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“It’s okay, baby, it’s just me,” I encouraged in a low whisper. “I want to hear you say it.” Taking a deep breath, Jamie pulled me tighter against him so that he could bury his face in my shoulder, hiding. I stroked his hair gently and then felt his lips move against my neck.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">“I… suck me… please, Brian.” His whispered plea sounded almost desperate. </span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">Fuck, I felt every single word as they ignited in my groin. Without another word, I began to slide slowly down his beautiful body, kissing and licking each tender spot as it met my mouth. Concentrating my efforts on the delicate curves of his stomach, I unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. His hands moved from my shoulders to his waistband, and I moved back as he pulled his jeans and boxers down. After I helped him get them down over his calves and feet, I set them on the floor next to the mattress. Looking up at him, for just a moment I marveled at the true beauty of his body, from his broad shoulders to his slender hips; everything about him was perfect to me.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 27pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">As he lay vulnerable before me, I knelt between his feet and ran my hands slowly along the insides of his legs. The higher my hands moved, the faster his breathing became, and when I grazed his balls, he let out a short gasp followed by a long, low moan. Pushing his legs apart, I lay down, nestled between his thighs, and kissed every inch of the crevice where his leg met his hip. Jamie moved my hair back from my forehead as he watched me kissing and licking his skin. Moving to the other side, I first nipped his hipbone before kissing all around the very spot where he desperately wanted me to be.</span></i></div>J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4986527296763604100.post-76392933706070525892011-03-13T09:41:00.000-07:002011-03-13T09:41:48.648-07:00My Brother Benjamin<span style="color: yellow; font-size: x-small;">Copyright (c) 2011 - J. P. Barnaby</span><br />
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<br />
The hammer shook in Jamie Duncan’s tiny hand. The job of putting it back on his father’s garage workbench was forestalled by confusion and fear. Eight years old, he did not have the frame of reference needed to process what he was seeing. The frayed and battered tennis shoes, the ones his brother Benjamin wore every single day, were suspended about a yard from Jamie’s frightened face. Surprised amusement had surrendered quickly to shocked disbelief as Jamie noticed the white socks still peeking out from below his brother’s jeans, just above those beloved red canvas shoes.<br />
<br />
A strangled scream, drowned in his panic, erupted from him as nothing but a strained whimper. Reaching out, Jamie touched his big brother’s leg, alien in its stillness. The younger boy could not remember a time when Benjamin had ever been so still; it was almost worse than the silence. Staggering back several feet, Jamie continued to stare at the cherry colored sneakers, terrified to look any higher and see his brother’s face.<br />
<br />
“Benji?” Jamie whispered, his voice small and scared, it was almost as if he were trying to wake his big brother, like he did after he’d had a bad dream. In his heart, the little boy wished as hard as he could. In fact, some may have even called it prayer. He wished that Benjamin would wake up and tell him that there was nothing to be afraid of.<br />
<br />
“Benji, I’m scared.” He thought about how his brother would sigh and pretend to be mad when Jamie woke him in the middle of the night. In the end, the older boy would always pull his blankets back, inviting his little brother in so he could protect Jamie from the monsters.<br />
<br />
Jamie looked up to see his brother’s staring, unseeing eyes and he knew that the monsters had finally gotten Benji.<br />
<br />
Standing as high as his little feet would allow, Jamie stretched up and pulled at his big brother’s T-shirt. He wanted to make Benji mad, to make him yell – because even yelling would be better than the silent blank stare. A crumpled piece of notebook paper fell from his brother’s slackened grip and dropped to the grungy floor. Not taking his eyes from those red sneakers, Jamie bent and scooped up the note.<br />
<br />
Slowly, he sounded out each word like Mrs. Martin had taught him. Reading the words around the damp smudges, he thought maybe his brother had been writing in the rain.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><em>Their hatred burns like fire, scorching, consuming</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>The very air blisters my lungs</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>I can’t breathe</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>Acrid smoke blocks out the sun</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>I can’t see</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>Roaring Flames engulf my soul</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>Everything lies in ruins</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>There is nothing left</em></div><br />
<em>I’m just so tired. I can’t fight anymore.</em><br />
<em>They tell me I’m going to go to hell for being a fag and maybe I am, but it can’t be any worse than school.</em><br />
<em>I’m so sorry. Please tell Jamie that I’m sorry. I’m supposed to be there to protect him but how can I do that when I can’t even protect myself?</em><br />
<br />
Clutching the note against his chest, Jamie sank to the floor and pulled his knees up trying to protect himself from the weight of his brother’s confession. He knew what it was like for kids at school to be mean. Joey Thompson had pushed him off the bars at recess a few days ago. In his child’s view, he couldn’t understand why Benji didn’t tell a teacher. They had to have teachers in the tenth grade, just like they did in third.<br />
<br />
The reality of his brother’s death became more real for Jamie as he held the note in his hand. He wanted to run, he wanted to tell someone, but he just couldn’t leave his brother alone. In that note Benji sounded so scared. Benji would never have left Jamie if he were feeling scared.<br />
<br />
Jamie continued to sit on the cold concrete floor below his brother’s body and waited for someone to come.J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4986527296763604100.post-35953158692253221852011-03-02T18:30:00.000-08:002011-03-13T10:16:16.564-07:00Excerpt - Little Boy Lost: Enlightened <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=2232" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzss3JAdyOOVG0vNlca9080eyHg6ZQ25fqsR-ZSzwCXTC-V5sPOeKFy9dzLHCNqGgNa4GSvYn3-286aLEDMSloOFBZAtUL3SpaAX56jK5maCVan5smn6EO-8u-6l-UY2cvhXSAqFe0mNk/s320/Cover.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em><a href="http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=2232">Little Boy Lost: Enlightened</a> now</em><br />
<em>available at Dreamspinner Press</em></td></tr>
</tbody></table> <strong><em>Little Boy Lost, Book One</em></strong><br />
<br />
Little Boy Lost is the story of Brian McAllister, the boy next door.<br />
<br />
Brian goes to school, does his homework, and helps his foster parents around the house. Brian also has a secret: he is in love with his best friend, Jamie. But in Crayford, Alabama, being in love with another boy is the worst kind of sin.<br />
<br />
Brian and Jamie will discover just how deep their emotional bond runs, and at what cost. What will they do if their secret is discovered? From fumbling through their first sexual experiences to hiding all aspects of their relationship from everyone in their lives, Brian and Jamie battle for the one thing that is truly theirs—love.<br />
<br />
Story Excerpt:<br />
As I watched, his expression softened, the fear and the shock replaced by a different emotion. He kept his eyes on mine and leaned forward ever so slightly and then hesitated. If I hadn’t been watching him so intently, I wouldn’t have noticed that he had moved at all. When I didn’t punch, scream, or even back away, he leaned in a little closer—an unspoken question in his eyes.<br />
<br />
<em>Do you feel it too?</em><br />
<br />
I felt his warm breath on my face; he was so damn close. My heart rate accelerated wildly, and I could hear the blood pounding in my ears. He whispered, almost too softly for me to hear.<br />
<br />
“Please… please don’t hate me.”<br />
<br />
Then, in the lightest of touches, soft but unyielding, his lips pressed against mine. My eyes closed, and I felt a rush of emotion, sexual tension, something, building within me. As his mouth molded over the contours of my lips, we reveled in the untamed surge of passion that flowed between us. The kiss was delicate, sweet, and lingered just long enough to make me want more. I had waited my whole life for my first kiss, and while it wasn’t exactly how I’d pictured it in my youth, it was perfect. His lips were warm and smooth as they moved against mine, causing a swelling tension in my stomach. The rain continued to pound the tree house roof as my arms nearly ached to go around him. I was scared to break the spell that had enveloped us. It was everything that a boy’s first kiss should be.<br />
<br />
Only it wasn’t with a girl.<br />
<hr />J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4986527296763604100.post-55680601359654022562011-02-01T10:38:00.000-08:002011-03-13T10:42:59.716-07:00Ryan's Obsession - RyanCopyright (c) 2011 - J. P. Barnaby<br />
<a href="http://dl.dropbox.com/u/18662024/RyansObsession.pdf">.pdf Download</a><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">“You know that this is an honor and a privilege,” Mistress Nicole commented as she unlocked Master Ethan’s home for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I looked around the spacious living room, awestruck, she took in my expression.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“There is a bedroom on the second floor that you may sleep in, and there is also a den on that floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Clean the house once a week, and keep everything in order.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unless you are cleaning, you are not allowed on the third floor, is that understood?” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I nodded, still overwhelmed at being in<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> his</i> house, with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">his</i> things, until he returned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“If you cannot do this, Ryan, I’m sure that Sean would jump at the chance.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was just goading me now because she knew that I fucking hated that little prick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Master Ethan had requested Sean to train that fucker Jayden to be a Dom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sean</i>, the name even sounded sneered in my head, had come back from his session with Master Ethan boasting that he had gotten fucked by both of them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could barely contain my rage until I returned to my room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why is it that he was allowed Ethan’s cock?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had been devoted to Ethan for as long as I could remember.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why couldn’t I have been selected?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">It was unbelievable to me that I was here, in his house, with no one else around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God, I could learn so much about him while he was in Chicago on vacation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, I’d heard about the whole Dominique and Claude nightmare, and knew he wasn’t really on ‘vacation’, but I’m sure that’s another story entirely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The point was I could learn to be everything he wanted me to be, just like I was with Mistress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My Mistress knew of my love for Ethan, which is why she allowed me this special privilege, knowing that I would be lovingly devoted to each and every task.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Once Mistress finally left, I went exploring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">The kitchen was beautiful, but poorly equipped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That would change when Ethan became my Master, because I was a wonderful cook, and would take pride in serving him in any way that I could.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mistress loved my cooking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would have to teach Sean before I left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As much as I wanted to be Ethan’s, my Mistress deserved to be looked after properly as well, she was a beautiful Mistress whom I adored.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finishing with the first floor quickly, I bypassed the second floor altogether.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is where I would be spending a majority of my time anyway; I could explore that whenever I wanted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">With giddy anticipation, I entered Master Ethan’s bedroom.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">It was beautiful, and uniquely Ethan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The dark hardwood, the blue tones, the stark absence of anything truly personal, it rang true to the fact that everything that was truly Ethan was down in that room on the second floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was just the place where he slept.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Running my fingers over the polished surface of his dresser, I scanned the room trying to decide where to begin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Noticing that the closet door was tightly closed, I decided to start there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I opened the door, and immediately the scent of Ethan was all around me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My erection which had begun as soon as I entered this room, throbbed as I was assaulted by his fragrance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Looking through his clothes, I found a soft cotton t-shirt, the exact color of Ethan’s eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Quickly, I pulled it from the hanger, and ripped off my own shirt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His shirt was a little big on me, but it felt perfect against my skin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wrapped my arms around myself, and hugged the material to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God, it felt like pure joy.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">The smell coming from the t-shirt was good, but I bet his body wash would be even better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Carefully, I removed the t-shirt and draped it across a nearby chair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Removing the rest of my clothes, I walked naked into his bathroom, excited to see that all of his personal stuff was still there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Apparently, in their haste, Ethan’s servants didn’t pack any of his things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s why I would be so much better for him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I certainly would have taken care of that, and anything else he needed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sighing, I turned on the tap and let the water warm up while thinking about what Ethan would look like, naked and showering.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Once the shower was hot enough, I got in, and stood under the spray letting it wash away any traces of Mistress Nicole’s essence, wanting to belong completely to Master Ethan now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took down his shampoo and washed my hair thoroughly, and then washed my body with his body wash.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The smell of him made me excited, almost giddy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My cock throbbed again, but I refrained from stroking myself off in here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I wanted to wait until I could be in his bed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Finishing up quickly, I grabbed a towel from the nearby rack and stepped out onto the bathroom rug.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I dried my short hair, and the rest of my body, thoroughly as I could, and then wadded the towel in my hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Taking a deep breath, inhaling the remnants of the scent infused steam, I walked back into his bedroom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could not believe that I had this opportunity; I certainly wasn’t going to waste it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Pulling back Ethan’s blankets, I climbed naked between his sheets and lay down, letting the towel fall next to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His bed was soft, and cool, and my cock throbbed to think that Ethan was the last one to sleep here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rolling onto my back, I let the covers rest just up to my knees as I spread them wide.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I rubbed the insides of my thighs before moving my hands up over my hips, over my stomach to my chest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rolling my nipples between my fingers, I thought about being on my knees for him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ever since we were in college, I’ve wanted his cock in my mouth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each time I had begged Mistress Nicole, she reminded me of Ethan’s hard limits – but since he has a male sub, that must no longer apply.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As soon as I saw the blond fucker in the playroom, all of my fantasies about Ethan went through the roof.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He could do anything he wanted with me, and I would be thankful for it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would even be proud to wear his brand on my ass.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">The thought of being branded by Ethan drove a jolt of pure sexual need through me, and I grabbed my stiff cock, stroking it hard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fuck, I wanted to be bound to the metal rack in his playroom, completely immobile while he stroked me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Oh God, he wouldn’t let me cum, but I would beg so fucking hard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stroked my balls, imagining his hands on me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thrusting up into my hand, I knew it wouldn’t be long now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fuck, I wanted to feel him inside me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Rolling over to his side table, I opened a few drawers until I found what I was looking for, figuring he must keep a little lube here, most of the guys I know do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Getting up on my hands and knees, I put a small amount of lube onto my fingers, and ran them lightly between my buttocks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I grasped my cock with the other hand, I leaned forward, pressing my face right into his pillow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I turned my head slightly to the side in order to breathe just before I thrust my fingers into myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Crying out, I imagined him thrusting deep into me as I fucked myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">“Thank you, Master Ethan,” I moaned loudly, thrusting my cock into my hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stroking myself with slow subtle movements, I tried to make the fantasy last.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I grunted and whimpered, almost able to feel his hips slapping against me, almost able to feel his legs pressing against the backs of my thighs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of its own volition, my hand moved faster.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fuck, I wanted him to grab my hair and asked me how I liked his cock in my ass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted him to tell me I was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">his</i> little bitch now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most of all, I wanted him to make me beg.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">“Please, Master Ethan please may I cum,” I whined imploringly to my unseen Master.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I need to cum, Sir, please.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The pressure was building; he needed to give me his permission.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fuck, I needed to cum.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Suddenly, he pulled out, and I grabbed the towel and thrust it underneath me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just seconds before I found my release, I heard him tell me to cum for him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wanted to see me shoot my load all over his bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I came hard into the towel beneath me, crying his name over and over as each jet of semen landed on the coarse cloth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Finally, I was spent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Wiping my hands and my softening cock on the towel, I threw it onto the floor next to the bed and collapsed onto my stomach with my face still pressed against his pillow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I rolled onto my back, I reached down and pulled the covers up over me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">The last thing I felt was Ethan wrapping his arm around my waist before I fell asleep.</span></div>J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4986527296763604100.post-15293599765639054172011-02-01T10:34:00.000-08:002011-03-13T10:38:05.032-07:00Lexi's Death - Alexis MorganCopyright (c) 2010 - J. P. Barnaby<br />
<a href="http://dl.dropbox.com/u/18662024/LexisDeath.pdf">.pdf Download</a><br />
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<div align="left"></div><span style="font-size: small;">Staying mad at Ethan just wasn’t an option for me. </span>J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4986527296763604100.post-27477741488737129342011-02-01T10:26:00.000-08:002011-03-13T10:33:35.919-07:00Ethan Safewording - Jayden CarterCopyright (c) 2011 - J. P. Barnaby<br />
<a href="http://dl.dropbox.com/u/18662024/EthanSafewording.pdf">.pdf Download</a><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Ethan has been so uptight lately; I wish he would talk about what’s bothering him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t know if he was having trouble with Gabriel, or if it was something else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He just seemed so unhappy, closed off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lexi and I had talked about this a few times and I figured she had a pretty good idea of what was wrong; she was just so intuitive like that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She could see right through me, I’m sure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lexi and I had talked a few times about the session tonight, and I knew she was looking forward to it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It had been a long time since Ethan had been Master Ethan with her, and I know that she missed it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was her first Dom, and was important in her life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even though she was in love with me, she would still enjoy submitting to him tonight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, after the session, he and I would talk, as he wished.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t know what he wanted to discuss, but I’m sure whatever it was would be easier if we were both relaxed. Nothing relaxes you like a good hard session.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God, I loved my sessions with him when I was his sub.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had really started to miss that lately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I missed the emotional and physical release I always got submitting to him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Then it struck me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I could give that to him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could give him that release.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">We headed up to the playroom, and saw that Connor was already positioned on the floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was a good sub, but Lexi was really more into dominating him than I was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ethan had told me once that I was a natural submissive, now I really understood what he meant. He had trained me as a Dom, but really I wanted nothing more than to be naked and on my knees for him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ethan looked over at me for direction and I indicated that I wanted him naked on the floor next to Connor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If he was gay and bottoming for both me and Gabriel, what I had in mind shouldn’t be an issue.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">When Connor and Ethan were both naked and kneeling, I walked over to them and told Connor to greet me properly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like an overly enthusiastic puppy, he did just that, kissing from my bare feet as high as he could on my chest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He stretched up, craning his neck to reach as high as he could.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told him he was very good, that he had pleased me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, I stood before Ethan and told him the same thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was less than enthusiastic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Distracted, he kissed up to just above my stomach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could tell that something else was on his mind, and considered stopping the session, but now more than ever I knew he needed that release.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I told Lexi and Ethan to position themselves on the saw horses, Lexi looked at me surprised, as it was supposed to be her and Connor on the horses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked her if she was going to safe word, or get on the horse, I wanted to get started.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Helping her position herself so that she was facing the other horse, I asked Connor which one he wanted to work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Figuring he would choose Lexi, because it’s not exactly a secret that he has a thing for her, I was surprised when he chose Ethan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, it dawned on me that Connor could not wield the paddle against Lexi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I should have seen that coming, but I didn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A little peeved that I wouldn’t be the one to give Ethan his release, I nodded at Connor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He went back and got a paddle to use on Ethan, while I stayed with Lexi and Ethan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, as Lexi and I watched, Connor paddled Ethan’s sweet tender ass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got hard watching.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, I saw Ethan’s face as he rested it against the padding of the horse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He looked bored, no, not bored.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As his face came into better view, I saw that he was anxious, not bored.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His eyes were closed tightly, and he appeared to be grinding his teeth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">He needed to relax.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I told Connor to get Ethan hard, knowing from experience that it would be easier on him if he were aroused.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Connor looked at me for a long moment; I couldn’t really discern the emotions that crossed his face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, he got to his knees and went to work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ethan kept his head down, but as I watched his cock get hard, I knew he was enjoying Connor’s ministrations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, I tossed Connor the lube, and he started to prepare Ethan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Several things happened at once then.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Lexi started squirming on her horse, it looked like she was trying to get out of her bonds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had the buzzer, all she had to do was hit it if she wanted my attention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, I kept watching Connor and Ethan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Connor pressed his hard cock against the soft skin of Ethan’s ass, and Ethan moaned, pulling his head up to look at me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When he saw me, his expression turned from surprise into blind panic in an instant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could not understand it</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Then, he screamed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">The sound tore through me, and instantly, my heart started to pound in my ribcage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He sounded terrified.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t do anything, but watch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was screaming, begging me to stop Connor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So panicked by the thought of bottoming for Connor, he couldn’t even remember his own safe word.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The words came out almost like choked sobs as he started to hyperventilate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The tears in my eyes at the heartbreaking tone of his voice clouded my vision.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told Connor to go to his mat so that Ethan would calm, but he continued to panic. Finally, I went over and cut his bonds away, expecting him to stay still.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead he fell off the horse in his effort to get away from me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Me.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He ran to the front of the room and started to pull his pants on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could not understand what was happening.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I told him that I didn’t understand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was gay; he wanted to be with men.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ethan had bottomed for me, for Gabriel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why the hell had he panicked like that?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, he told me the one thing that made it all clear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had never bottomed for anyone else, just me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It crushed me when he threw in the term ‘willingly’, making it devastatingly clear that he was lumping me in with his abuser.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He felt that what I had wanted Connor to do was tantamount to what the monster had done to him. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I felt sick.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I tried to call him back, but he was gone. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I handed the knife to Connor to let Lexi loose, and headed for the stairs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By the time I’d reached the bottom, he was gone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had gotten in his car and fled. He ran, from me. Looking down, I noticed that his shoes were still next to the door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In such a panic that he wouldn’t even take the time to put on his shoes, I couldn’t imagine what would happen to him. Could he even drive, upset as he was?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If anything happened to Ethan tonight, it would be entirely my fault.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would not be able to live with myself. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Slowly, I trudged back up the stairs to make sure that Connor had released Lexi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As soon as I walked into the room she came over to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At first, I thought that she was trying to comfort me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, her hand came back and she slapped me across the face. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">“How could you do that to him?” she screamed at me, and I fell to my knees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“He was raped for eight years, and you think it’s okay to just make Connor have sex with him?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is this because of Gabriel?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You wanted to get back at Ethan because you’re jealous?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never thought you would stoop to this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought you cared about Ethan.” She never took a breath as she screamed at me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just sat there, on my knees, taking it all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was absolutely right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had just shattered Ethan’s trust in me, and most likely our friendship.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, I had nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I had absolutely nothing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">“I’m going to go look for him,” I said softly, and she pushed me back.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">“You are going to stay right fucking here while Connor and I look for him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The last thing he needs to see right now, is you!” she yelled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pulling myself off the ground, I went to the back corner of the playroom, the same relative corner where I had found Ethan in his own playroom when Lexi left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sank down against the wall, the tears finally falling.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">My God, what had I done?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I pulled my phone out of my pocket and tried calling Ethan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was pretty sure he wouldn’t answer, but I needed him to know that I was sorry, that I cared about him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh God, if anything happened to him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fear, and the guilt writhed in my stomach as I hit the speed dial.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His smooth voice came on as the voicemail picked up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The phone hadn’t even rung.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I listened to his soft melodic voice as he went through the standard greeting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Doctor Cullen sounded so calm and sweet on the phone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was strange the things that you think about when your heart is breaking. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">“Ethan?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ethan I am so sorry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please come home so we can talk?” I said into the phone without any real hope that he would. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>First and foremost, I just wanted him to know that I was sorry for my horrific error in judgment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Nothing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">He didn’t call back; Lexi and Connor didn’t call to say that they had found him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the minutes turned to an hour, I felt like someone was squeezing my chest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The panic was just paramount.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I loved him so much, I had only wanted to help him, and now he would hate me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He would never speak to me again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I called again, almost aching just to hear his voice.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">“Ethan, we’re all coming to look for you,” I said softly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a lie, of course, because I was grounded to the house and unable to look for him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Please just call one of us to let us know you’re okay.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I practically begged into the phone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wasn’t going to call me, I knew that, but I just wished he call someone to let us know he wasn’t in a ditch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I put my forehead on my knees and covered my head with my arms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rocking back and forth, I didn’t let myself give in to the sobs that were threatening to burst from me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please let him be okay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is my fault.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Then, my phone rang.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I opened it without looking at it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">“Hello?” I asked, my voice breaking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t care who it was, as long as they had news about Ethan.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">“Jayden, it’s Lexi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Connor just called and let me know that Ethan is at Gabriel’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He saw his car in front of the house, but he wasn’t in it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He must already be inside,” she said, and her voice was flat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could tell that she was relieved that they had found Ethan, but now her rage would turn on me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">“Thank you, Lexi,” I said quietly, but she hung up without another word.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I called Ethan again, this time for no other reason than just to hear his voice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“<span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Ethan, Connor just called and said your car is at Gabriel’s. I’m so glad that you’re safe and with someone that cares about you. I’ll call you tomorrow.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I dropped the phone onto the floor beside me, and started to sob in earnest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now that I knew he was safe, I could focus on my own overwhelming grief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It could have been minutes or hours that I sat there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So absorbed in my own sorrow, I didn’t hear the door open and was unaware that I was no longer alone until Lexi stood before me.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">“You are I are going to talk, now,” she said, and I didn’t even bother to wipe the tears away before I looked up at her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She sighed, and sat down on the floor next to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Jayden, this jealousy has to stop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You could have done irreparable harm to him tonight, just to assuage your own green fucking monster.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is my best friend; he is your best friend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How could you think that this would be okay?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How could you think that he would be okay with being tied down and fucked by another guy?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After everything he has been through, everything you have learned about him, you had to know that this would end badly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Were you trying to push him away?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t understand you Jayden.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I nodded.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everything that she had said was true.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I explained to her why I had thought he was bottoming for Gabriel and my logic for everything else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the explanation came out of my mouth, even I knew my logic was flawed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">When I was finished, she sighed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I don’t know what this is going to do to your friendship.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not sure he will be able to forgive you.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Standing up, she pushed my phone over to me with her foot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You need to explain this to him and apologize.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, and from now on, I’m in charge in this room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We will transition Connor to another Dom when we can, I think that you and I need to work on a few things.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, she walked out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">I tried to process everything. After this fiasco, Lexi had to know about my feelings for Ethan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ethan may not know, or understand, but I’m sure Lexi did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was also pretty sure I had just pushed Ethan right into Gabriel’s arms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He would never trust me again, and he shouldn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My own girlfriend didn’t trust me with a sub anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had failed them, I had failed myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">I picked up my phone again to make one last call to Ethan.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">I tried to explain everything, what I was feeling, how I only wanted to help him, and what Lexi and I had talked about. Needing for him to understand, I told him that I was stepping down as a Dom, that I could not let my feelings or anything else get in the way of my judgment again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My sorrow, my fears, everything came out into that voicemail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It cut off just as I was begging for his forgiveness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would have done anything in that moment for him not to hate me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t care about the playroom or any of these games anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just couldn’t stand the thought that he hated me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Then, I sat the phone down on the floor and waited.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had no intention of moving from that spot until I knew that the other half of my heart would be coming home.</span></div>J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4986527296763604100.post-28993549744119785542011-02-01T10:24:00.000-08:002011-03-13T10:46:06.658-07:00Walking in on Gabriel and Ethan Kissing - Jayden CarterCopyright (c) 2010 - J. P. Barnaby<br />
<a href="http://dl.dropbox.com/u/18662024/Chapter8JaydenPOV.pdf">.pdf Download</a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Someone who will care about him all the time? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What did that little prick know about it? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was in love with the guy,<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> all the time</i>, not just when it’s fucking convenient.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was threatening to destroy my whole life! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was going to crush Lexi, disappoint Kimberly, and admit that I liked to fuck guys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All for what?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A guy incapable of loving me back? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Golden boy hasn’t been there for Ethan in fucking years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wasn’t there to pick up the pieces; he wasn’t there when Ethan really needed him. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Lexi was. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Presumptuous little ass, I thought as he followed Ethan up the stairs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fuck, the prick was probably going to break up with him, and I couldn’t stand to see him hurt like that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew the little bastard was going to hurt him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lexi tried to grab my arm, but I pulled out of her grasp, stewing about it, and headed up the stairs a few minutes later.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stood outside the door trying to gain my composure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, I heard laughing from behind the door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Things must not have been going too badly if they were laughing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Maybe I should just apologize.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I sighed, and turned the knob.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">The sight in front of me stopped me in my fucking tracks.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Ethan was lying on his bed underneath Mike, his legs wrapped around the guy’s waist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">They were kissing. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My words died in my throat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It hadn’t occurred to me until that moment that Mike and Ethan were having sex.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From Ethan’s reaction to our…our night together- I wanted to call it lovemaking, but I doubted he would see it that way- the way it took him back to that horrible time in his life. Never would I have thought he would ever want to do bottom again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That night, I had tried to be as gentle as possible with him, to show him how much I cared about him. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was all a sham.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">This guy was fucking Ethan.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I apologized for disturbing them, not paying a whole lot of attention to where I was headed; I stumbled back down the stairs, and made it to my study so that I wouldn’t have to see them leave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More than anything, I hoped that Ethan would come and talk to me before he left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know why that small measure of comfort would have been so important to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe I wanted to know that I was as important to him as that little bastard he was with upstairs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sitting in the leather office chair, I ran my fingers along the polished mahogany desk, not caring about any of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the finest furniture money could buy, but it could have been a folding table for all I cared at that moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only thing that meant anything to me in the world was him, and he was about to walk out the door with another guy.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I heard the front door open and close.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was leaving – without a word.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why did I do this to myself?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Had I turned into an emotional masochist as well as a physical one?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I fucking hate this.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Grabbing the first thing my hands came across, I hurled the mantle clock out of the open study door where it exploded against the hallway wall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lexi came running up the hall to see what had happened, her face registering first shock, and then pain, at the clock lying in pieces on the hardwood floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At first, I didn’t understand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What fucking difference did it make?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had more money than God; I’d just buy another fucking clock.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">“That clock belonged to my mother,” she said softly, the tears falling silently now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of a sudden, I felt sick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took off at a dead run, barely making it past Lexi and the clock in the hallway and out the back door before I threw up in the bushes. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was a fucking monster. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing in that moment could have prepared me for my own self-hatred.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got on my motorcycle and sped as fast as I could away from the house, towards the lake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Things like speed limits, or even stop signs didn’t concern me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Weaving in and out of traffic like a man possessed, I finally made it to Navy Pier.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Parking my bike on the sidewalk, not caring if it was towed or even stolen, I walked aimlessly along the bike path.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Turning sharply to my left, I walked until I reached the end of the pavement at the water’s edge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sat down precariously, blissfully alone, and dangled my legs over the water below.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Lexi had to know how I felt about Ethan; I wasn’t exactly the best at hiding my emotions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At some point, it would be too much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My deception was going to break her heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Would she leave?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Would she go back to New York?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t stand the thought of that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even though I didn’t love her in the way she wanted, even though I didn’t love her as much as I did Ethan, I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did</i> love her. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted the three of us to always be together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">However, with my feelings for Ethan, his lack of feelings for me, and Mike now in the picture, I didn’t see how that could ever happen.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was being so fucking selfish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If Ethan could be happy with Mike, I should let him be happy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d made my choice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a blind fucking panic, because I couldn’t face the fact that I might be in love with another man, I couldn’t face that I was in love with my Dom, but most of all, I couldn’t face that I was in love with a guy that could never feel the same way about me. So, I had made a panicked declaration to Lexi.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Lexi loved me, I knew that.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I grabbed a hold of her love like a drowning man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After my parents, and after the falling out with Rosalie, I needed to know that someone gave a fuck about me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, I just didn’t know what to do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It hurt so badly watching Ethan with Mike, like a searing knife through my chest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I could see it all playing out in my head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ethan and Mike at mommy’s brunch, holding hands and playing the token gay couple.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ethan would fake a laugh at their stupid jokes, all the while staring blindly at his watch begging time to speed up.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Ethan deserved better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">He deserved better than to be paraded out like some circus animal for his parents’ amusement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mike didn’t know Ethan, Mike wouldn’t understand that Ethan didn’t like that kind of attention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sat quietly seeing Ethan in my mind in front of the all of those people, how edgy he would be, how off balance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I hated it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">No matter how I was feeling about Ethan, my natural tendency was to protect him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It made my chest ache to think of him being uncomfortable like that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Grabbing my phone, I made a decision.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was now just past five and I had to talk to Lexi first, so I figured I better make it later rather than earlier.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hitting the keys on my phone, I sent him a text asking him to meet me in the playroom at nine o’clock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A session would help him deal with his emotions after being with all of those people.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">It was just after seven when I finally got back home, and my mind was on planning the session for Ethan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It took a few minutes for me to realize that Lexi was standing in the doorway, calmly watching me with red rimmed eyes. I looked down at the floor, away from her face, feeling the guilt eat at me. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">“Jayden, this has to stop,” she said softly, her voice almost pleading.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It’s not healthy for you, or for him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is trying to heal, to find some measure of peace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mike is helping him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">cannot</i> fly off the handle when you see them together, no matter what you may think of Mike.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s hurting them, and it’s hurting us.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Letting out a sharp huff, she turned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before getting completely out of the room, she added, “by the way, my mother’s clock is still in the hall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’ll need to do something with that.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I heard the front door slam as she left.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Staring at the empty doorway, my heart hammered in my chest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was screwing this up so badly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was letting them both down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pretty soon, neither of them would be able to stand me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d be alone, and I would deserve every bit of it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just as I deserved Lexi’s anger, I deserved Ethan’s indifference.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I waited, huddled on the floor of the playroom for the time to pass, but it refused.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were no clocks here, and the sun had already set.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing was discernable with respect to time; I may have been sitting here for minutes, or for hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My eyes had traced over every piece of equipment here, imagining how best to utilize it with him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally, they landed on the ottoman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That piece had been a gift from Ethan, and it was one of my favorites.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had used it with me, and we had both used it with Lexi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I was deceitful.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I was manipulative.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I was out of control.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Trying to quell the rising panic building in my chest, I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket to check the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh God, it was just minutes before nine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The panic took over, there was no way I would be able to Dom him in a session.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">More to the point, I wanted to be dominated by him. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I needed to serve him, please him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I needed the structure, the discipline. Stripping quickly, I made my decision in an instant. My knees had just hit the floor as I landed in my position when I heard the knob turn.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Slowly, almost excruciatingly slowly, he made his way to me and knelt on the floor to look at my face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t contain the overwhelming panic, the devastating need I felt for him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Trying not to let my voice crack, I begged him for Master Ethan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We hadn’t had these roles for months, but I needed to give myself over to him now.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I felt his fingers in my hair, and I relaxed, closing my eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His touch always had that effect on me; he excited me sexually, yes, but I felt safe and comfortable with him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tilting my face up to look at him, he asked me about the clock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I answered in a whisper, ashamed of my outburst.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, he asked me if I should be punished, and I wanted to beg him, but I knew my place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I knew the game.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">“If it pleases you, Master Ethan,” I said, almost calm under his influence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had me stand and hold onto the bondage frame, and when I was stretched, it felt good to exert myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Spreading my legs wide, so that more weight was forced onto my arms, I was almost hanging.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Listening to him move about the room, I waited.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Then, I felt the sting of the flogger and was grateful for it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He whipped me everywhere, my back, my ass, my thighs, and my cock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I presented each</span><span class="MsoCommentReference"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 125%;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">in turn, almost begging for him not to stop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then all too soon, it was over.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Binding my hands behind my back, he then tied my ankles wide apart to a spreader bar.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I suppressed any sound of surprise as he wrapped his arms around my waist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh God, I could have stayed in that moment for the rest of my life and been completely happy, even if I was bound.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted to let my head fall back on his shoulder, I wanted him to kiss me, and I wanted him to make love to me. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was eating away at me, knowing that he wouldn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It would all be about the domination, about the sex, but I would have to take what I could get.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After helping me down to my knees, he grabbed that damned ottoman and set it in front of me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sensing what he wanted, I almost lay down over it, but I’m so glad I didn’t because he poured some of the silicone lube over my cock and began to stroke me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Fuck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I could feel him behind me, and I tried to hold back, to stay still, but I just couldn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a few minutes, I started pumping my cock shamelessly into his hand, and when I felt him kiss my neck and I nearly came.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">His voice was low in my ear, the nearly painful need he had for me evident, as he asked me if I wanted him to fuck me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Telling me that he was my Master, he asked if I wanted to please him and I nearly missed that small miracle when he called me <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">his </i>Jayden.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wondered, as my breath caught, if he really understood how true that was, that I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was</i> his Jayden.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">After pushing me over the ottoman, he lubed my ass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Again, I shamelessly moved my hips pushing back against his fingers as my slick cock rubbed against the leather.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All I wanted out of life in that moment was for him to be inside me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">And then, he was.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">As he slowly entered me, the realization that our arrangement would most likely end soon spread over my body like a hot, wet, blanket threatening to suffocate me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would lose even these brief moments of intimacy with him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He would not see our sessions as intimate, but in my desperate need for him, that was the only way I could think of them. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After all, it wasn’t me he wanted in his bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Our one night of love making was just a failed experiment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An experiment in which I’d found everything I had never wanted, and he found … nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My throat burned as the tears that had been threatening to fall all day welled behind my closed lids; my emotions were always so much fucking stronger during these times when I opened myself to him – mind, body, and soul.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">When I let his name escape, I was surprised when I received no admonishment for it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whimpering again as he drove harder into me, I felt my orgasm rapidly approaching.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The muscles in my legs began to tense, the burning, tingling feeling in my cock and my balls grew more pronounced.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ethan made me feel things that no one else had made me feel during sex…ever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At first, I had thought it was the submission, then I feared that it was just because he was a man, but now I knew – it’s because he was Ethan, and one day I would never feel like this again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would never be able to have this intimacy with him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The tears streamed down my face as I heard him give me permission to orgasm. Trembling now with soft sobs as I rubbed myself against the ottoman, I tried hard to obey him and when my orgasm tore through me, I cried out as I came.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I not only heard, but also felt him follow quickly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Turning my head, resting my cheek against the cool leather, I tried to get a handle on my churning emotions.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I failed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">As soon as he released me from my bonds, I fled, taking the stairs to the third floor two at a time in my haste.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did not want him to see how truly upset I was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Surely, he would ask questions that I did not want to answer, or even questions to which I had no answers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once in my room, I flung myself onto the bed and cried openly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I cried for Lexi, because due to my cowardess, she would never truly find love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tried for Ethan because though he deserved it more than any of us, he was incapable of finding love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Then, finally, I cried for me and my selfish squandering of Lexi’s love in a fruitless dream of ever having Ethan’s.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><br />
</div>J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4986527296763604100.post-35879770073680365272011-02-01T10:14:00.000-08:002011-03-13T10:17:23.806-07:00Seeing Ethan in the Restaurant - Charity HughesCopyright (c) 2010 - J. P. Barnaby<br />
<a href="http://dl.dropbox.com/u/18662024/SeeingEthan.pdf">.pdf Download</a><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I sat in the booth, where I sat every single time our circle of ladies wanted to brunch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Generally, I tried to keep up with the conversation, but today I was inextricably distracted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My son, the boy I have loved his whole life, was sitting just ten feet from me for the first time in over a decade.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had seen him at his college graduation, of course, but stayed well in the shadows so we didn’t ruin his special day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not that you would have known it was special by watching him accepting his degree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was like a machine that entire day, showing no excitement, no relief, no joy, just simply…existing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It tore at me that even after all the time that had passed, he still wasn’t living.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought being away from Chicago might help, that’s why I didn’t really argue when he chose to go so far away for college.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was only reason I was able to stand him being gone from us again. In his sympathy for us, the dean of Ethan’s college sent us regular emails on his progress – both social and academic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Over the course of his time there, Ethan was an excellent student, quiet but extraordinarily bright – but had no social interaction with others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He spent all of his time alone.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Now, he was here on some conference, apparently having lunch with a couple of co-workers. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At least he’s starting to interact socially with others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s a step in the right direction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I watched him and his two companions unashamedly, and was confused by their interactions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The girl, a pretty brunette, kept putting her hand on Ethan’s as she laughed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt a small stab of jealousy at this unknown girl because I had never been allowed to touch Ethan when he came back, not even to comfort him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had to wait until he was completely under to stroke his hair while he was sleeping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So many times I sat watching, helpless, as he fought his demons while he dreamed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I was thankful that I was sitting to his side and not his back so that I could at least see his profile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t know what he would have done if he’d seen me, but this way I could at least see him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When he turned to his male companion, the blond whose back was to me, I nearly looked away so he wouldn’t catch me watching.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, something caught my attention, and I just couldn’t look away. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">There was a light in Ethan’s eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">As he laughed at his friend’s remark, I saw a shadow of the boy I had lost.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It reminded me forcibly of the night we’d received the call that Ethan had been found.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I hadn’t slept in eight years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My body just shut down periodically because it must, but I wouldn’t have called it sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More often than not, I was closer to the waking dead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was on one of those nights when I lay awake, Ethan snoring beside me, that I tried to picture EJ in his baseball uniform.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The panic built when I couldn’t remember the finer details of the little red and white shirt that he wore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My panic had started to accelerate into hyperventilation when the phone rang.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I looked over at the bedside table and saw that it was nearly two am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Oh God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I reached for the phone, my hand shaking so badly that I nearly knocked it off the table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ethan’s arm slid around my waist, as he asked if I wanted him to answer it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I brushed him off, and held the phone up to my ear.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">“Hello?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I greeted, my voice trembling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please, please don’t tell me that he’s dead, please.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can take anything but dead.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">“Mrs. Charity Hughes?” the voice requested.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He sounded young, and nervous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They wouldn’t have put a rookie on the phone for a notification if he were dead, would they?</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">“This is Charity Hughes,” I responded automatically, and then thought to add “is this about Ethan?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please, let him be alive.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and then without hesitation, knowing that I didn’t want to drag it out of him, continued.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“This is Officer Harris with the Chicago police, your son was found in Fleetwood, Colorado…“<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t stand it, so I interrupted him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He hadn’t said your son’s body, but I needed to hear him say it.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">“Is he alright?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked softly, my voice cracking on the last word.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">“Yes, ma’am, he appears to be uninjured.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He landed at O’Hare about twenty minutes ago, and is on his way to police headquarters.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">“We will be there in fifteen minutes.” I told him after getting the address, and began to push Ethan out of bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He looked at me like I’d lost my mind until I said the one thing he’d been waiting eight long years to hear – “Our son is coming home.” After I relayed the content of the conversation, he didn’t need any kind of prodding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We threw on the first things we could find, and raced down to the garage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thankfully, Ethan knew exactly where the police station was, and we were there in less than fifteen minutes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t think I’d ever seen Ethan drive so fast. Most of the time he buried his feelings deep, but it was clear, in this instant, that he was desperate to see his boy.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">The steps to the station were full of reporters and cameramen as we nearly flew up them. They were throwing questions at me left and right as we tried to push through them. I just wanted them to get out of the way so I could see my son. Finally, one soft spoken woman told me quietly that Ethan wasn’t there yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The police escort from O’Hare was still a few minutes away. Ignoring the rude men trying to question us, I made my way back down to the center of the stairs, and waited.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the vultures around me realized that I wasn’t going to speak, they quieted, until we saw the lights from the motorcade bringing Ethan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I waited, not very patiently, for it to stop in front of the steps, and for them to open the back door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He got out slowly, his eyes darting around him like a cornered animal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once he’d stepped out, one of the officers closed the door with a slam, and Ethan jerked and looked back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">They led him up the stairs to me, and as he looked up I saw that my worst fears had been confirmed. </span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My son was dead. </span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The light in his eyes was gone, and he was merely just walking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stifled a sob, ran down the few stairs still between us, throwing my arms around him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He stiffened, and tried to back away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of the flashbulbs started going off, and that’s how they got their perfect image of a boy and his mother reunited.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They had no idea he was trying to wrestle his way out of my arms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were led into the station where they wanted to question him about his abduction, and talk about how he’d escaped. My son was sitting off in the corner, not wanting to be with the rest of us at the table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had his knees pulled up to his chest, trying to make himself as small as possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">After a while, an elderly policewoman took me off to the side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We didn’t want to talk about this in front of your son, but we’re going to need to take him for medical attention.”</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">“They told us he was uninjured??” I asked, scared now.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">“Your son was held by a sexual predator for nearly eight years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is possible that he could have contracted something, or need other kinds of help…” she said knowingly. </span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">And there it was.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">My boy, my innocent eight year-old boy had been raped repeatedly for years.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, I knew when I saw his eyes, but to have it laid out for me like that was unspeakably painful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And from there, the pain only got worse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They allowed Ethan to stay huddled in the corner as he spoke in a frighteningly detached monotone about his rescue of the small boy his abductor had tried to force him to take.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ethan wouldn’t, or couldn’t, say his name, but he said he couldn’t let it another boy’s life be ruined.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When they asked Ethan about his own abuse he had refused to speak.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No amount of coaxing, threatening, or even bargaining, would get him to talk about it in any way.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">After two hours, I told them it was enough, that we wanted to get Ethan home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just after five in the morning, we walked out of the police station under guard with our son by our side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soon, we were home, and EJ looked around curiously as we went through the foyer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was like our home, his home, was a place he had visited, but didn’t quite remember.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we wandered from room to room, just my son and me, Ethan went upstairs to find him something to sleep in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was afraid that his presence might startle EJ – that anything was liable to startle him right now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we walked into the sitting room, something, hope maybe, flickered across my son’s face as his eyes fell on his piano.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In an instant, however, it was gone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He sat down at the bench and very tentatively, very delicately ran his fingers along the surface of each perfectly polished key.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I made sure to keep this piano perfectly tuned and polished, waiting for this moment when my baby would come home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It almost looked as if we wanted to play, his fingers bent slightly, reflexively as he traced the lines of the keys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I laid my hands on his shoulders, as I had done since he was old enough to sit at the piano. Tensing, he jerked forward away from me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He must have heard my quiet surprised gasp because without turning around he said very quietly, “I…I’m sorry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just…I don’t like to be touched.”</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">It made me hate the bastard that took him that much more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What could he have done to my son that would cause him to flinch like that at his own mother’s embrace?</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Ethan brought down an older pair of sleep pants and a T-shirt for EJ to sleep in and I brought them to his room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was examining a model that he and little Gabriel from down the street had built the summer before he had disappeared.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When he saw me, he dropped it back onto the desk and apologized. </span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">“Ethan, honey, this is your room,” I told him quietly, patiently. “Everything in here is yours.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He nodded and took the pajamas into the bathroom to change.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went to the closet in the hall and grabbed an extra toothbrush and other toiletries and towels.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When EJ opened the door in the too large clothes, he looked like a lost little boy, shell shocked, and terrified.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I handed him the stuff I’d brought him from the closet, and he make quick work of cleaning up.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">When he crawled into his bed, the sheets still covered in rocket ships and planets, I asked him if I could stay for a while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It looked like he wanted to argue, but finally just nodded and then rolled over with his back to me, pulling the covers almost over his head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As he sobbed and whimpered in his sleep, pleading for it to stop, it was the first time in my life that I wondered at just how much further my heart could break.</span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">My Ethan, the man that I hardly knew, now swatted his companion’s hand away from the check with a laugh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">My Ethan had laughed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I don’t even remember the last time I had seen, or heard, that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, as he turned to hand the check back to the server, our eyes locked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Recognition dawned in his eyes, the eyes that were alive with something again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we continued to watch each other, I began to rise from the table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, one of the servers passed between us, and the connection was broken.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He bolted for the door, as if he were terrified to be in the same room with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Choking back tears, I ran after him and out of the corner of my eye saw his shocked friends follow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t care about them; I didn’t care about anything except the fact that I had caught up with him; my son was only feet from me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Remembering that he didn’t like to be touched, but seeing that he let his companions touch him, I laid a tentative hand on his arm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and then opening them again, looked at me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tried not to feel rejected by his attitude, but it was hard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">“Ethan?” I asked softly, and he looked down into my face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I smiled at him, just as his friends came barreling through the door, putting themselves between us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a way, I was gratified that he had found such caring friends, but I wasn’t going to let him leave without talking to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, when they began to pull him away, I put my foot down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wasn’t going to let them take him away, not now.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">“Ethan Hughes,” I said sternly, and he stopped, still looking at the ground.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For a moment, in my heart, he was that scared little boy again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The blond haired man said that I was mistaken, that his name was Bryant and they were from out of state.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That floored me, like I wouldn’t know my own son.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told him as much, and then I turned to Ethan and I wanted to ask him how he was, but the first question that popped out was how long he’d been here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How long had we been in the same city with no call, no visit?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How much time had I lost with him?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">“A while,” he said in an expressionless voice, like he was just trying to forestall the inevitable. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Oh my God, he’d been living here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He’d come back to Chicago, and probably never even thought about coming to visit us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What kind of horrible mother was I that my own son runs from me, avoids me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tried to control myself by moving the subject to his friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Noticing how close they were, I wanted to know more about them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How had they gotten through to him when no one else ever had?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The blond boy was Jayden, and the girl was Lexi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They seemed very sweet, and the boy apologized for defending my Ethan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He needn’t have bothered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took my son’s hand and asked him how long he was going to be in town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He hedged for a moment and then admitted that he wasn’t sure, that he was staying with his friends and that he had stopped being a doctor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was something wrong, something terribly wrong, and I couldn’t let him leave without securing some kind of promise that I would see him again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My heart ached at the thought that this would be the last time we saw each other.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Searching, trying to find something, anything, to get him to come to, I recalled Sunday brunch, maybe seeing his friend Gabriel would help, they had always been close as children. I blurted the invitation out, almost begging him to come, even telling him to bring his friends since he felt so comfortable with them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If they were there, and we sat them near the alcove in the back, he might be more comfortable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I would have done anything just to know that I could see him again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally, he agreed, and he called me mom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">It was everything I could do not to burst into tears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Not knowing if he would call and cancel, I thought this might be my one shot to tell him how I felt-I had to make sure that he knew, above all else that I loved him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I loved him more than anything or anyone else in the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His face softened and I held my arms out, just like I used to when he was a boy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, to my surprise he stepped forward slowly and wrapped his arms around me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kissing me lightly on the cheek, he whispered that he loved me too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">He loved me</span></i><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">He hadn’t said that to me since before he was taken, and I had been waiting nearly twenty years to hear it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">I watched as he and his friends walked over to a little Volvo, and then I turned and found my car.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d call later and explain to the ladies where I’d gone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Climbing into the driver’s seat, I made it just long enough for the door to close before I started to sob.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My little boy had come home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">My Ethan, my EJ, had come home, finally, after all this time.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Even if he did not know it himself yet, for the first time since he was eight-years old, I had my son back.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><br />
</div>J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4986527296763604100.post-31869362410957139922011-02-01T09:50:00.001-08:002011-03-13T10:11:01.552-07:00Dominating Two Sweet Boys - Jayden Carter<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Copyright (c) 2011 - J. P. Barnaby</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-no-proof: yes; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"><shapetype coordsize="21600,21600" filled="f" id="_x0000_t75" o:preferrelative="t" o:spt="75" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" stroked="f"><stroke joinstyle="miter"></stroke><formulas><f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"></f><f eqn="sum @0 1 0"></f><f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"></f><f eqn="prod @2 1 2"></f><f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"></f><f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"></f><f eqn="sum @0 0 1"></f><f eqn="prod @6 1 2"></f><f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"></f><f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"></f><f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"></f><f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"></f></formulas><path gradientshapeok="t" o:connecttype="rect" o:extrusionok="f"></path><lock aspectratio="t" v:ext="edit"></lock></shapetype><shape alt="Description: https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqUtnRHEGvU4T-Kec7a52AnlyOCC24WtDjTWp15uSna6eOxvI7C5S2HVDKDS8dbI9ctqk-Tbtd68Wk6jxJFX6lYTgmfN1POQzXi4kX-s-0sVCbsfumjTcNoTslyzqPQAWZ1zCSR0c3duE/s1600/reader_16x16.png" href="http://dl.dropbox.com/u/18662024/DominatingTwoSweetBoys.pdf" id="Picture_x0020_1" o:button="t" o:spid="_x0000_i1025" style="height: 12pt; mso-wrap-style: square; visibility: visible; width: 12pt;" type="#_x0000_t75"><imagedata o:title="reader_16x16" src="file:///C:\Users\AUNTTR~1\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image001.png"></imagedata></shape></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://dl.dropbox.com/u/18662024/DominatingTwoSweetBoys.pdf">.pdf Download</a></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">When I walked naked into the playroom, where Ethan had instructed me to be, my attention was drawn to the two bound boys. A bar was hanging from the suspension pulley, and one boy was bound to each end by his wrist. Neither of them was really struggling, but they were both barefoot, clad in jeans and t-shirts, and blindfolded. It was then that I noticed Ethan sitting on one of the nearby padded tables, waiting for me. He winked before walking over to stand next to the slighter boy on the left whose brown hair framed his face perfectly, and I found that I wanted to run my fingers through it, as Ethan was doing. While he rubbed the front of the kid’s jeans, he talked softly to him. Then, he moved over to the darker haired boy, and rubbed his nipples though his light t-shirt as he spoke to him. I couldn’t hear what he told either boy, but when he moved back over to me, both had raging erections that were clearly visible through their denim. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"I have a present for you, angel," Ethan said to me, his voice soft and seductive, his lips so close to my ear that his warm breath made me shiver slightly. “Their Mistresses said they could come and play with us for the afternoon. This one," he indicated the boy on the right, the black haired boy, "even came with instructions from his Mistress." </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">They were both beautiful, from what I could see of their faces behind the black leather blindfolds. Stepping forward to the thinner boy, I rubbed his chest through his t-shirt. The nipple piercings surprised me, but I kept running my hand over his chest. He relaxed slightly under my touch, so I leaned closer, putting my lips just an inch or so away from his ear. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"What is your name, boy?" I asked quietly. He inclined his face towards me, as if he were trying to see me through the blindfold covering his eyes. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Johnathan, Sir," he whispered. "John," he said quickly, correcting himself. Moving my hand up to his cheek, he pressed his face against my palm, but my smile went unseen as I backed away and moved to the other boy. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">This one was slightly taller, with a stronger build. His black hair was short and straight, his complexion darker than the first boy. As I ran my fingers over the second boy’s chest, he let his head fall slowly back and moaned. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Running my nose slowly up his neck, just barely touching his skin with my own, I murmured. “tell me your name." </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">As he drew in a sharp breath, he pulled his hands forward only to be stopped by the cuffs. It looked like he wanted to touch me, but of course, he couldn’t. While I waited for a response, I pinched and rolled his nipples under his t-shirt. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Brandon, Sir," he said shyly. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Ethan drew my attention back to the first boy. “this genius went onto the internet and talked about coming to play with us. He said we should 'make it good'," Master Ethan said, whacking the boy’s ass with a strap, punctuating each of the last three words. The boy cried out, and I told him to shut up. The denim was absorbing the fucking blows, just wait until we had him naked. We would make it so good; he might not be able to sit for a while. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Strip the insolent one," Ethan commanded as he went over to Brandon, speaking to him sweetly as I grabbed the collar of John's t-shirt with both hands. I pulled hard and heard not only a satisfying rip as the shirt tore down the middle, but also a surprised gasp from the still blindfolded boy. His now bare chest rose and fell rapidly. Next, I tore his shirt sleeves, destroying the t-shirt before it fell uselessly to the floor. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Then I noticed the tattoo. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A beautifully intricate design traversed the length of his torso along his right side from the top of the ribcage down into his jeans. Very slowly I traced the lines and curves of it with my finger, and he shivered. Reaching down, I unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans before jerking his remaining clothing down to his knees. His cock sprang up, bobbing lightly as I pushed the jeans and briefs the rest of the way down. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Step out of them," I commanded, and he lifted his feet one at a time, freeing himself from his clothing. I grinned wickedly as he squirmed in his bondage, as if he could hide his charms from me. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He now stood naked before the Master. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Master Ethan carried the leather flogger over to the naked boy and stood behind him. He winked at me before swinging the implement and striking the boy on the ass. John jerked, and emitted a low grunt as the pain radiated through his skin. The next three blows came in quick succession, and he was whimpering after the third. Brandon was trembling, assuming he would be next. When I went over to calm him, I touched his arms, and he jerked violently away from me. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Shhhhh… It's alright, sweet boy," I said quietly to him as I removed his blindfold. "Is that better?" Nodding slowly, he took a deep shaky breath, and this time, when I put my palm against his cheek, he leaned into it rather than away from it. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“That’s it, no one is going to hurt you," I told him. "We are just going to have a little fun and then your Mistress will come to get you, okay?" He nodded again, this time with a little more enthusiasm. "You remember the safe word?" I asked, just to be sure. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Yes, Sir."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I turned around to watch Master Ethan working John, his ass and upper back were now a nice shade of red, and he was hanging from his wrist restraints, shaking. Master had turned him so that Brandon and I could see better, and rubbed the boy’s ass with his large hands. The boy moaned, and spread his legs apart, trying to get better footing. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Get him down and strip him," Master Ethan told me, indicating to Brandon while he started to untie John. I pulled the ropes binding the boy’s wrists to the bar above his head, and he lowered his hands, still bound to each other. Surprisingly, he got slowly to his knees in front of me with a quiet, reverent, “thank you, Sir” before kissing both of my bare feet. He held his hands up to me, and I untied them. Gratefully, he rubbed his wrists, still kneeling quietly on the floor. Learning over, I grasped the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head revealing his tanned muscular chest. I had absolutely no doubt that he would be a beautiful sight nude, and I would find out soon enough. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Brandon, stand and get naked for me," I told him in a stern voice. As he rose to do what he was told, my attention was caught by John, naked on his knees with his hands laced behind his neck. He was sucking Master Ethan’s cock, for all he was worth, as it drove in and out of his mouth. The combination of his soft moans and noisy sucking sounds were making me fucking hard. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">When I turned back to Brandon, he was naked, and standing off to the side. He was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, obviously at a loss as to what to do. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“See what your friend here is doing?" I asked him with a smirk, and he nodded. "I want you to do the same, on your knees, boy." Quickly, he knelt before me, and with his fingers laced behind his neck, he took my cock into his mouth with enthusiasm. The strained groan left my lips without any conscious thought as his tongue ran lightly over the sensitive head. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Have you ever sucked cock before, boy?" I asked him, trying not to blow my fucking load. God damn, he was good. Moaning, he nodded very slightly. Well, that explained why my fucking balls were tingling after just a few minutes. My head fell back as I grabbed his short black hair, driving my cock deeper into his mouth. "Yeah, just like that, take it all," I groaned as he took me deeper. He sucked hard, almost as if he wanted to suck the cum right out of me. The flat, rough of his tongue pushed hard against my sensitive skin, just adding to the </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";">sensation. Just as Master Ethan pulled out of his boy’s mouth, I grasped Brandon’s hair, and pulled him back. Thank God, or I would have cum right down his little throat. </span></div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";">“I want to see them suck each other,” Master Ethan said with a sly grin, and I waited to see exactly what he had in mind. He left John kneeling where he was and pulled over a low platform covered in leather, but didn’t look padded. It was about four feet square by about two feet tall. He called for John to come to him, and crawling on his hands and knees, the boy complied quickly. Forcing the boy to lie on the platform, he then called for Brandon. He made Brandon get on all fours over John so that Brandon’s legs were on either side of John’s arms, and Brandon’s arms were on either side of John’s legs. Then, Master Ethan bound them in that position. He tied John’s wrists to Brandon’s ankles and John’s elbows to Brandon’s knees and then continued to do the same with Brandon’s wrists and elbows. We stood back and watched as they struggled, but there was no point. </span></div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";">“Well, boys, are you waiting for an invitation? Suck the cock in front of you,” Master Ethan instructed harshly, and I thought that maybe the boys were strangers because they were shy all of a sudden. Then, Brandon responded first, capturing John’s cock in his mouth. He bobbed his head back and forth, sucking the boy as John tried to do the same. John was having a hard time capturing Brandon’s cock in his mouth without the use of his hands. Finally, I took pity on him, and directed the boy’s cock into John’s mouth. Then, John made up for his failure by sucking Brandon enthusiastically. </span></div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";">It was fucking hot to watch. </span></div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";">There was nothing either boy could do but obey, bobbing, and sucking as we stood back monitoring them. Then, Master Ethan tossed me a condom and lube. </span></div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";">“This is your present, my Jayden,” Master Ethan said as he stroked my hard cock. “Which ass would you like?” I looked back to the boys, and decided that I did not want Master Ethan to have to kneel to take one of the boys, so I chose the one lying on the platform, John. Master nodded and bid me to remove his clothes, which I did gratefully. As much as I liked watching these boys trying to serve him, he was my Master, and it was my job to fulfill his needs. Quickly taking off my own clothes, I knelt next to the boys, my aching cock in line with the boy’s ass as he lay on the platform. Master Ethan stood behind the other boy, putting his hands on Brandon’s hips. </span></div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";">Forgoing my own pleasure for just a moment, I watched as my Master slid his hard cock into the sweet black haired boy. Master groaned but it was almost drown out by the boy as he whimpered around the hard cock in his mouth. After preparing my cock for the boy before me, I slid it up and down between his soft buttocks, the head grazing his tight little hole, getting him slick for me. Then, I pushed forward and felt my cock penetrate him, slowly entering his ass. He was hot, and tight, and it just felt so fucking good. Taking his slim hips in my hands, I found a nice rhythm, and fucked him hard. I loved to listen to his little grunts and cries around the other boy’s cock in his mouth.</span></div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";">Master Ethan and I fucked the boys hard, and delighted in their struggles. </span></div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";">Very soon, however, I felt that familiar feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I begged Master Ethan for my orgasm. He stalled, making me wait, making me hold out until he was ready. I recited every professional team I could for every city I could think of as I worked to hold off my orgasm. Finally, Master Ethan was ready. </span></div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";">“Cum hard for me Jayden, cum on that pretty boy’s face,” he said, his voice strained. His cry was more akin to a growl as he drove hard into Brandon and held himself there. The boys had stopped sucking each other, and I could hear their cries plainly as I drove my cock hard into John. My grunts were harsh and animalistic as I quickly pulled out and tore the condom from my cock. Pumping hard and fast, I looked down and saw that Brandon had closed his eyes. That was good, because before I could speak, my cum had begun to erupt from my cock to land on his face. </span></div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";">The hot erotic sounds that came from Master Ethan just drove me on as I continued to pump my cock with my hands in the boy’s face. </span></div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";">Finally, I was spent. I looked down and saw the thick white globs of semen on his nose and cheeks and smiled. </span></div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";">What a good boy. </span></div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";">Presenting my cock to him, Brandon opened his mouth and cleaned me, licking every inch before I pulled out again. I was most impressed with his subservience; I had to remember to congratulate his Mistress on his training. </span></div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";">Standing, I looked to Master Ethan and he asked me to get something to clean them up. Just as I got to the door of the playroom, it opened, and two beautiful women walked in. The first, had shoulder length brown hair and beautiful eyes, dressed in a black skirt and thigh high black leather boots. The other was taller with short auburn hair and a kind smile. This one, the kinder one, must be Brandon’s Mistress, I could tell by her quiet authority. She was the one who had given Master Ethan, one of the best trainer Doms anywhere, instructions on how to care for her submissive. I respected her for that. </span></div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";">I nodded to the women as I passed and jogged to the bathroom. It didn’t take me long, and I returned with two warm, wet washcloths, and two soft dry towels. The women were teasing Master Ethan about getting their toys all dirty while he untied the boys from each other. John stood and walked to his Mistress, waiting quietly by her side. Brandon, on the other hand, stayed on his hands and knees and upon reaching his Mistress, kissed her feet which were exposed by her sandals. She took the wash cloth from me, and carefully wiped his face while the other Mistress simply took the other and handed it to John. </span></div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";">“Jayden?” Brandon’s Mistress asked with a smile. “Could you hand me that lube near your feet?” I looked down and saw the bottle she had indicated and picked it up. </span></div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";">“Were you a good boy for Master Ethan?” she asked Brandon as he knelt before her. </span></div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";">“Yes, Mistress Michelle,” he answered, and the respect and devotion to his Mistress obvious in his voice. </span></div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";">“Very good, Brandon,” she said softly, pulling him to his feet. She grasped his hips lightly to turn him around. She poured a small amount of lube onto her hands, and wrapping her arms around his slim waist, she grasped his hard cock in her slick fingers. After realizing what Mistress Michelle was doing, the other woman followed, taking the lube from Michelle, and asking John if he had been a good boy as well. </span></div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";">“Yes, Mistress Renee,” he said softly, looking quickly to Master Ethan who nodded, chuckling. She poured a little lube on her hands, and wrapping her arms around his waist, began to stroke his cock as the other Mistress was doing. </span></div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";">Soon, the room was filled with deep moans, and soft whimpers from both boys as their Mistresses stroked their hard cocks. Brandon reached his peak first, begging his Mistress for permission to cum. She reached down with the hand not stroking his cock, and pulled lightly on his balls. He nearly whined, begging her again. Finally, she whispered something in his ear, and he cried out, his head falling back onto her shoulder. Increasing her pace, she stroked him hard as his hips moved to fuck her hand. Releasing his balls, she grasped his cock with both hands, and pumped him while twisting her palm over the head. When she moved her palm, he came with wild cries all over our hardwood floor. Semen pulsed out of his cock as she continued to pump him, his body shaking as the last traces of his orgasm faded, and after a long moment, she stopped stroking him. </span></div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";">Turning his head slightly to the side, he kissed her lightly on the cheek. “thank you, Mistress,” he panted, burying his face in her neck. When I looked over, John had cum as well, and was kneeling at his Mistresses feet. His face was pressed against her bare thigh, and she was stroking his hair affectionately. I walked over and stood next to Master Ethan who put his arm around my waist and kissed me lightly on the temple. </span></div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";">Mistress Michelle looked at the other women who smiled. “Well, Renee, it looks like we’re the only ones in the room who haven’t had the opportunity to get off today,” she said with a grin, leaning over to take Mistress Renee’s face in her hands, kissing her deeply. Something in me stirred as I watched their tongues dance lightly as they kissed. It was so fucking erotic to watch two women like that. Fuck, it was almost enough to make me hard again. </span></div><div class="Default" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";">Mistress Renee looked down at her submissive on the floor and asked, “Are you boys ready to go home and please your Mistresses? You aren’t quite done with your service today.”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"><br />
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</div>J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4986527296763604100.post-32585234846737884292011-02-01T09:50:00.000-08:002011-03-13T09:50:29.387-07:00Jayden Dominating Ethan - Jayden CarterCopyright (c) 2010 - J. P. Barnaby<br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“What were you planning on for today?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ethan asked from a nearby deck chair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought about that for a minute.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wasn’t ready to pack it in; I wanted to stay out on the water for a while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sight of him in those trunks was doing nothing to contradict that desire either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I thought we could hang out on the boat today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The girls were going to go out again, and this is nicer than hanging around the house.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I told him with a grin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don’t get me wrong, I love our house, but my boat was special to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My parents had owned a boat when I was a child, and some of the best times I can remember having with them were on the lake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I walked over to him with a beer from the galley refrigerator.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He patted the chair in front of him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stopped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was a perfectly good deck chair next to him, but he wanted me to sit with him?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I briefly considered what Lexi would think, but I knew that she was okay with whatever Ethan and I did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Spending time with Ethan, making him feel included was important to Lexi, just as it was important to me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I sat down in the lounger in front of Ethan, and leaned back into his chest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We sat like that for a long while, just watching the water and listening to the waves slap against the side of the boat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was peaceful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a while, all I could focus on however, was the feel of his hard chest against my back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I loved the feel of his warm skin against mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The feeling of his arms around my waist was comfortable, not awkward as I had imagined.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was when his lips brushed the back of my neck that I knew the context of our positioning had changed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Do you want this?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He asked me, as his fingers ghosted ever so softly over my stomach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I nodded and turned my head capturing his lips with my own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The kiss was soft, very sweet at first, but then deepened into something more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As he moaned softly into my lips, I felt a strong pull in my stomach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I turned my body slowly, being careful not to upset the chair and straddled his legs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His hands moved from my back to my ass, kneading it gently.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That only made my erection that much more prominent against my swim trunks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My hands went into his hair as I pulled myself closer to him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His lips moved down over my neck, peppering the area just above my shoulder with kisses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I moaned as his lips trailed down lightly over my chest.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When his lips locked over my nipple, I thrust my hips forward onto his.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His straining erection pressed against mine, and I thought I might lose all measure of control then.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead, I reached down with one hand and pulled my trunks down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He released me for just a moment while I shed them and threw them onto the deck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nude, I let my hands trail down over his stomach, and he whimpered and I palmed his erection through his trunks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rolling his hips slightly, he rubbed himself against my hand as he continued to lick and suck my nipples.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pulled his trunks down carefully, freeing his cock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He lifted his hips, and within seconds his trunks were on the deck as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I moved down in the chair, and had just slid the head of his cock into my mouth when he spoke.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Wait, Jayden.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He said, getting up out of the chair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I watched him walk over to a nearby locker and pull out a blanket.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He looked so fucking hot walking naked across the deck of my boat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His grace and agility were present in every step.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I watched the muscles of his calves and he stood unfolding the large blanket.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Something twitched in me as I watched his biceps flex while he spread it out on the deck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, he lay down on his side and winked at me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At almost super human speed, I was out of the deck chair and lying next to him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It felt so perfect to be lying here in the sun, nude with Ethan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I kissed him again, gently, reverently, trying to convey to him something that I could not say.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think on some level he may have understood, because he linked his fingers with mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The urgency had gone from the moment, and we explored each other with slow, controlled movements.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was more about expression than animal lust now.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I turned carefully and rolled him on his back, my knees finding their place on either side of his hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His hands come across my hips, pulling me down and then his mouth is around me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I moaned harsh and loud into his inner thigh as I rested my head there to steady myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I ran my tongue gently around the base of his cock, and up either side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel the vibrations, but barely hear his moan over the sound of the waves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sliding my forearms under his legs, I reach up and pull them apart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He moans again, and pushes his hips up in a silent plea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The head of his cock is barely in my mouth when his hips move again, and I take him in deeper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Teasing him, I run my tongue over the head over and over and his hands tightened on my ass, squeezing my buttocks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took him deep into my throat, and then he did the same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was an incredible feeling, pleasing him like this, while he sucked me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ugh, I wanted nothing more than to fuck his mouth, but that’s not what this was about today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was about expressing something that was between us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I felt his fingers massaging between my legs, I stroked his balls.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His hips came up slightly off the deck and mine bucked softly against his face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When neither of us could take any more teasing, we worked each other in earnest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I gripped his inner thighs and bobbed my head up and down his length.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My moans and whimpers came faster now, with less control.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could feel him losing control too; I could feel his cries around my cock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, all of a sudden, it was just too much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pulled back and let him slide from my mouth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I put my forehead on his thigh and just concentrated on the feeling of his mouth, his teeth, and his tongue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He must have understood because he didn’t stop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My sounds were free and unrestrained now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As my orgasm just fucking exploded through me, my mouth opened in a silent cry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was so overcome by the feeling that I couldn’t get the sound out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I came so hard into his mouth that I was reduced to panting by the time it had subsided.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I lifted my hips, allowing my softening cock to come free of his wickedly talented mouth and he pushed me down onto the deck. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I lay on the deck, my head resting on his leg for just a moment before I lifted myself up onto one elbow and resumed my oral assault on his cock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now he was the one with the unrestrained grunts and whimpers, and each sound just spurned me on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yeah, fuck Jayden…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just like that…”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He intoned while I hollowed out my cheeks and sucked him harder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted his orgasm to be as absolutely mind blowing as mine was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stroked him everywhere, I hummed, I pulled out every trick that I had learned from him over the years, and it worked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a few minutes, his hips launched themselves off the deck again and again as his cock was thrust into my mouth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Shit…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fuck…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Uhhhh…”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He cried as he fisted the blanket at his side and his back arched.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I closed my eyes and let him fill my mouth, swallowing around his pulsing cock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As he pulled himself from my mouth, he pulled on my arm so that I would move up and lie beside him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sun had been blocked by light clouds, so we lay side by side – cool, comfortable, and utterly content.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">*<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>*<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>*</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was awoken by a low moan just behind me, and for a moment I was disoriented.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I finally realized that we were on the boat, and that we were lying on the deck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt him, naked and hard, pressed against me from behind, his arm thrown casually around my waist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was still moaning softly, and I heard my name interspersed as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I chuckled quietly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then his hand moved down and he was rubbing my hip gently with his fingers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I closed my eyes and felt myself getting aroused by his touch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My hips ground back against him in response.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He captured my burgeoning erection in his hand, and then I knew he was awake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Slowly, almost lazily, he stroked me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I reached back and pulled his hips hard against me as I rocked into his hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He released me and rolled away for just a moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By the time I started to roll to see where he’d gone, he was back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I heard the snap of the bottle lid, and felt his fingers in me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I pulled harder on his hip, almost begging him to continue.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">He reached down and pulled my leg up, and slid into me in one motion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I kept my hand on his hip, stroking his skin, keeping that connection between us as his hips began to move.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, his lips were at my neck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was kissing me as he took me gently from behind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t rough or urgent, but sweet and sensual.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I arched my back and pushed my head back onto his shoulder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He kept his lips at my neck, kissing it, moaning into my skin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Stroke yourself, angel, I want you to cum with me.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He said and his voice was almost crooning in its seduction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I reached down and using the slick liquid already seeping from it as lubrication, stroked my cock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I moaned his name as he slid his other arm beneath me and wrapped it around my chest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tightened my hold on his hip, and we held each other firmly as we rocked against each other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My climax was already starting to build.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The emotion of our love-making heightened the physical pleasure of the act just that much further.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stroked my cock in time with his increasingly hard thrusts into me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I’m so close, Jayden.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He cried suddenly in my ear, and the sound was like an electric pulse in my stomach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You’re so fucking tight like this…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can’t…”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Fuck me…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yeah…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fuck me harder…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m almost there…”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I groaned, and he pulled my leg back over his and let go, his arm wrapping around my waist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He held me tight in his arms as his thrusts became harder, more erratic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“God, Jayden…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh God…”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He murmured into my shoulder, and then I felt him bite my shoulder sharply as his motions became rapid and jerky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then he pulled me bard against his hips and he groaned loudly as he came.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The small pinch of pain, coupled with the feeling of him buried inside me caused me to stroke hard and fast until I felt myself shooting jets of semen onto the blanket in front of me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wave after wave of pleasure coursed through me as he started to pull out and I felt that extra sensation adding to my orgasm, prolonging it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I leaned back against him and felt him panting into my neck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was one of the most erotic, most beautiful experiences I’d ever had.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I reached up and put my hand over his on my stomach as he kissed my shoulder where he’d bitten.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Wow…”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ethan murmured into my neck.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Wow, indeed…” I replied and squeezed his hand.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
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</div>J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4986527296763604100.post-82649687933391111162011-02-01T09:21:00.000-08:002011-03-13T10:13:12.945-07:00Jayden Dominating Ethan - Ethan Bryant<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="color: yellow; font-family: Calibri;">Copyright (c) 2010 - J. P. Barnaby</span><br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqUtnRHEGvU4T-Kec7a52AnlyOCC24WtDjTWp15uSna6eOxvI7C5S2HVDKDS8dbI9ctqk-Tbtd68Wk6jxJFX6lYTgmfN1POQzXi4kX-s-0sVCbsfumjTcNoTslyzqPQAWZ1zCSR0c3duE/s1600/reader_16x16.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqUtnRHEGvU4T-Kec7a52AnlyOCC24WtDjTWp15uSna6eOxvI7C5S2HVDKDS8dbI9ctqk-Tbtd68Wk6jxJFX6lYTgmfN1POQzXi4kX-s-0sVCbsfumjTcNoTslyzqPQAWZ1zCSR0c3duE/s1600/reader_16x16.png" /></a><span style="color: red; font-family: Calibri;"><a href="http://dl.dropbox.com/u/18662024/JaydenEthanI.pdf">.pdf Download</a></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It was the perfect night for fireworks, both literally and metaphorically.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jayden had taken well to his new wealth, and purchased himself a beautiful boat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was simply named <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Lexi</i> with a detailed graphic on the stern.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Very straightforward, very profound.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had partaken in a few drinks while we navigated to a fairly remote area on Lake Michigan to await this evening’s festivities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During the last Friday night before the 4<sup>th</sup> of July, to wind down <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Taste of Chicago</i>, the city went all out on a fireworks display.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Having both grown up here, Jayden and I knew that the best place to watch was from the water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since Lexi was out with Nicole, who was also visiting, we had the boat to ourselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The anticipation and tension between us was mounting exponentially the farther out from shore we went.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Night had fallen, and it was nearly time for the show to begin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Theirs…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and ours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I haven’t been with Jayden, or with anyone else since that last night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Right now it was taking all of my concentration not to throw him over one of these deck chairs and fuck him into semi-consciousness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">God there is just something about him, something primal</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He turned then and caught me staring at him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Something in his face changed, and he walked over to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt his hands on my hips pulling me into him, and then his breath on my neck as he murmured “I love it that you are so fucking hard for me.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I moaned softly, remembering saying those same words to him as I had him pinned against my car at his graduation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was right however; I was so fucking hard – just for him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then he grabbed my shoulders, I thought for a fleeting moment that he was going to kiss me, but he just spun me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt his hard cock against my ass as he pulled me to him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Strip, Ethan,” he said low and stern in my ear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At once, I felt a battle begin inside me – the Dom versus the sub.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Dom in me wanted to tell him to get on his knees so I could fuck that insolent mouth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, the sub in me wanted to please him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe it was the way his breath washed over my neck, raising the hairs there and making my flesh tingle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe it was the air of authority in his voice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe it was just because I had wanted him for too fucking long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever it was, the sub side won out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The epic battle had been lost, and my Dom self knelt quietly in the corner in defeat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">My hands trembled slightly as I began to unbutton my shirt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A quick look around showed that the other boats were far enough away that they wouldn’t be able to see, but what if someone happened to drive by?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I laid my clothes across the nearest chair and stood naked before him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I raised my hands to link my fingers at the back of my neck, out of habit, the first round of fireworks exploded in the air.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My naked form was illuminated by the burst of light, and I heard Jayden’s sharp intake of breath.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Do not move,” he said softly, and I heard him turn and go downstairs to the sleeping quarters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, I stood on the deck, exposed as I waited for him to return.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The spray from the waves below, caught by the light breeze stuck to my warm body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My nipples were painfully hard, as was my cock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Surreptitiously, I glanced around again as the light from another explosion overhead lit the surrounding water - still, no one in sight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was so fucking hard now; I was starting to not care if anyone saw.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I haven’t been in this type of submissive position in so long, and to be in it for a man, in the open, exposed – there were just no words to describe how I felt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I heard his footsteps on the stairs again and then something light fall onto the deck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“On your knees,” he said, and the dominance in his voice shot straight down through to my stomach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knelt slowly and felt a pillow beneath my knees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My heart swelled at his thoughtfulness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had turned out to be such a good Dom – just as I knew he would.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He slid in front of me and leaned on the railing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans and pulled them to his knees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was wearing nothing underneath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He must have been anticipating some kind of interaction between us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I smiled inwardly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stroking his hard cock just inches from my face, he looked down at me with a mild expression.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Do you want this?” he asked softly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I licked my lips, and nodded slowly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had never thought that I would ever admit to that, but I did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted his cock in my mouth, I wanted it everywhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Earn it,”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>he said with a small smirk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then he lifted his erection and pushed his balls against my lips.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I kissed them reverently, darting my tongue out to taste him, to caress him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He moaned low and deep in his throat and pushed forward.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I opened my mouth wider, taking them in and sucking lightly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His hips moved slowly as I moved my mouth farther.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I darted my tongue behind the skin of his balls, massaging lightly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A strangled sound came from him and he pulled back abruptly before pushing forward and sliding his cock between my open lips.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, he groaned in pure pleasure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had forgotten how gratifying serving someone was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I reveled in the feeling, sucking him harder, moving my mouth faster.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only thought in my head then was pleasing him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Just as it should be.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Use your hands too, Ethan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Show me how much you want to please me,” he said his voice low and strained.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought for just a moment, and then used one had to stroke between his legs, starting where my mouth had just stopped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His fingers tightened in my hair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The slight pain of it shot through me, and my erection strained in the air.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I really wanted to rub it against his leg, like a little dog in heat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The thought shocked me with its utter debasement.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I pulled back from him for just a moment, moving my hand from his balls to his cock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With the other hand, I reached over and snatched the lube from the deck next to the pillow I was kneeling on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Taking him quickly back into my mouth, I applied the lubricant to my fingers and reached behind him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I used my other hand to massage his balls lightly.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was rewarded with a throaty groan that was then punctuated by the fireworks exploding overhead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I slid my lubricated fingers slowly in and out of his rectum, I thought wildly of how I no longer cared who saw us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pleasing him, serving him, was my only thought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His hips moved slowly, pushing his cock deeper into my throat, and then pushing back hard into my fingers.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Yeah…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fuck…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ethan that’s so good…”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He moaned, distractedly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I smiled and hollowed out my cheeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He couldn’t last much longer as I used my fingers to fuck him harder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All at once, he pushed deep into my throat, holding my head still.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His muscles clenched spasmodically around my fingers and he came with an animalistic sound – longer than a grunt, but deeper, more primal than a groan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sound ran straight down my spine and I swallowed his cum as it shot into my throat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did so, proudly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally, as his orgasm subsided, he pulled back letting my fingers slide from him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He fell to his knees and captured my lips with his.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew he could taste himself when his tongue sought entry through my parted lips.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, if he didn’t care, I certainly didn’t care either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I moaned into the kiss, feeling it everywhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fuck, I hope he lets me cum soon</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Mmmmm…<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now it’s my turn to play,” he said with a wicked, impish grin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He stepped from in front of me and reached for the ropes he’d left on the ground.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Lie there, with your head toward the bow.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He said sternly dropped the pillow that I had been kneeling on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I laid down so that my head was almost in the pointed front of the boat, my hips fell onto the that pillow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He grabbed my wrists and used one of the pieces of rope to bind them together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, he bound them to the point of the railing at the very front of the boat – right over my head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fireworks exploded again, and I looked around but all I could see were the sides of the boat.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">He took another length of rope and tied one end to my knee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pulling the other end through the railing, he pulled my knee up and out and then secured the other end of the rope to my ankle so that my leg was now bound to the railing at my side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He did the same with the other leg.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was bound and exposed on the deck of his lovely ship.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His hands roamed ceaselessly over my bound thighs, my tensing stomach, and over my painfully hard erection.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Perfect…”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He murmured softly and moved back to begin to whip the insides of my thighs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Absolutely perfect.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I arched my back and moaned, feeling the sweet sting on my skin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My hips began to move gently of their own accord, and I heard Master Jayden chuckle lightly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“That’s it, move your hips.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Show me how much you want it, boy.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I rolled my hips again, pushing them into the air.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did want it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted whatever he was willing to give.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His hand went to my cock now, stroking, tormenting me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Don’t you cum until I give my permission, Ethan,” he said in a stern voice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, his sweet mouth was on me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt his lips, his tongue, his hot breath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I locked my jaw and my hands balled into fists, doing everything I could to keep control.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Very good, Ethan,” he said, pulling back and reaching behind him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt rather than saw the lubricant on his fingers as he slid them deftly into me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I moaned and rolled my hips to match the gentle motion of his hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Do you like it when I touch you like this?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Yes,” I moaned quietly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He stopped immediately and looked at me expectantly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yes, Sir,” I corrected, moving my hips against his hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He pulled back and used his lubricated fingers to stroke my cock as he entered me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His thrusts were slow and gentle, and I wondered if anyone else could hear my cries and whimpers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was bound, exposed, and being taken while he was clothed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt so vulnerable. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then, without warning, I saw a light play over his face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fuck, it was another boat.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jayden looked up and smiled at the approaching vessel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He waved and my whole body tensed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I’m fucking naked here with your cock in my ass, and you’re waving?</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought savagely, starting to panic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He moved his hips very slowly so that they wouldn’t be able to tell.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t think they could see me at all, yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“It’s so hot, fucking you like this with an audience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Should I ask them aboard?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He asked mockingly down at me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I shook my head violently.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“That’s not the proper answer, Ethan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I want them to watch me fill your ass with my cum, I will.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your only thought should be what pleases me,” he said sternly, and I blanched.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course it was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t what I wanted that matter, but what he wanted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My panic caused me to beg.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He waved the other boat off and put his hands on the rail over me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He fucked me hard, his hips slamming into my ass over and over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“You’d better fucking cum for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He growled, stroking my cock harder, faster.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I concentrated on that feeling, and on the feeling of being bound and helpless for him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My orgasm started deep within me, and exploded out of me with tremendous force.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I grunted, I groaned, and I screamed out – the feeling was so intense as I pulled hard on my bonds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sight of me losing every measure of my control was too much for Jayden and he soon followed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With one last hard thrust, he groaned deeply as he shot into me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It was so fucking good.</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">He leaned forward to press his soft lips to mine, and then whispered gently to me – </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">“I think I like you being my sub, almost but not quite as much as I love serving you.”</span></div>J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4986527296763604100.post-88777556667466344882011-01-01T09:12:00.000-08:002011-03-13T09:46:02.667-07:00Sonata<span style="color: yellow;"><em>Copyright (c) 2010 - J. P. Barnaby</em></span><br />
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</div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">As she watched his fingers flow gracefully, effortlessly across the keys, his back arched lightly and he allowed his head to fall back, lost in the low cadence of the piece. His closed eyes made his youthful, stunning features appear almost peaceful, something that only happened as he found that perfect place that was his music, or as he slept. The melody was soft, almost haunting in its depth as it cascaded through the suffocating confines of his small bedroom. Long, slender fingers caressed the keys, each delicate note infused with a passion from him that very few ever saw. She considered herself blessed to have such a privilege, because it almost seemed as if his hands moved independently of each other with amazing dexterity. A rich crescendo wrapped around her as she stood motionless in the doorway sending a chill racing through her. Or maybe the chill was inspired by the long, bare lines of his back that tapered into the slim hips half hidden by his well worn jeans. His feet were bare, as they always were when he worked and cuffs of the long jeans were tucked under his heels as he worked the pedals on the floor. The way he rocked almost imperceptibly in perfect rhythm with the notes as he played was not quite sexual, but it made her tremble nonetheless.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Everything about him made her weak.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Her fingers clenched reflexively on the doorframe as she fought not to cross the mere half dozen feet that separated them and push his long hair from his eyes. For years, she had joked with him about putting it in a barrette because she was almost desperate to feel its silky texture beneath her fingers. With his head back the way it was, only a small part of his bangs covered his closed eyes. The very ends touched the deep shadows that seemed to be a permanent addition to his beautiful features while the rest was tucked back behind his ears showing much more of his porcelain skin. His pale face highlighted by a slight flush of his cheeks, and the soft pink of his tender lips, the bottom one held between his teeth as he concentrated on his work.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Briefly, she wondered if he ever watched her while she wrote and then brushed aside the thought almost immediately. Why would he watch her, there was nothing special about her? From the long, brown hair that was either always too curly or too straight, her deep set hazel eyes always held a measure of sadness, and her almost boyish frame, she was thoroughly ordinary.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">A soft breeze blew though the window next to his desk, moving the curtain and allowing a ray of early morning sun to fall across his face. Sensing the change, his eyes opened and the imperfect rays only served to offset the intensity of his majestic cerulean eyes. A veritable tempest of emotion raged through them as she stared, breathless.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">It was like looking into the face of God.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">The music abruptly stopped, and she heard a few mouse clicks as he saved his work onto the state of the art computer that sat next to his keyboard, a thin cable connecting the two which allowed him to record his sessions.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">"I'm sorry, I didn't see you standing there," he said quietly turning in his desk chair in order to face her. His gaze remained on her, not quite looking at her, as the storm continued to rage in his eyes. The way his shoulders were curling in on him, she could see that he felt extremely vulnerable, as he generally did when he composed.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">"I didn't mean to bother you…I love…listening to you play," she replied, stammering a little under the intensity of his gaze. But, as she watched, his face slowly closed, and then he grinned that fake happy grin that he wore for everyone else, the one that hid the pain he wanted no one to see. Her heart sank. She wished that just once he would open up to her. They had lived together for four years, attending the Academy of Fine Arts together – she in the literature program while he was in music. At first, she had been a little concerned, as were her parents, that she had been assigned a male roommate, but as time passed they found that, at least domestically, they were perfectly matched. After that first year, they found an apartment together where they would remain until graduation. As they were both seniors, that time was desperately running short.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">"So, what are you making me for breakfast?" he joked, the mask perfectly in place. It broke her heart to see it, and she looked away fixing her gaze on the perfectly crafted lines of the hardwood floor beneath her bare feet.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">"Come on, I'll make you some pancakes, we have a little while before class," she said, and something of the pain she felt must have come through in her voice.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">"Hey," he said quietly, walking over to take one of her hands in both of his. She felt a hum go through her fingers and up her arms, leaving her with goose bumps. It was as if his hands resonated with some secret power, a power that allowed him to create perfectly orchestrated music from nothing. Wildly, she thought about how those hands would feel over different parts of her skin. "Is everything okay?"</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">The sweet sincerity in both his soft voice and gentle touch brought a lump to her throat. Not meeting his eyes, she nodded, working hard to stem the flood of emotions that was threatening to burst from her.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">"You know," he said after a moment, and she could hear the forced levity in his tone. "I checked the schedule, and I'm pretty sure it's my day to be morose." Her gaze turned questioning, and he merely looked over at a calendar hanging on the wall under his Breaking Benjamin poster that had been signed by the band. She followed his look and saw with a sick feeling that it was the first of the month. His father called him on the first of every month for an update on how his money was being wasted by his disappointment of a son on his little music hobby. For the first year that they had lived together, she thought that her roommate was gay because of all of the slurs that his father hurled at him during his monthly visits.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><i><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Fag-boy, sissy, pansy… </span></i><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";"></span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Since they'd gotten an apartment, and his father could no longer publically humiliate him, the man had started to settle for monthly phone calls instead.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">It explained perfectly the haunting melody he'd been playing that morning.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Without a word, she pulled her hand from his and slid her arms up around his neck letting her forehead rest in the crook of his neck. She let herself indulge in his spiced infused with a tiny hint of citrus scent as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Standing motionless, afraid even to breathe and break the spell, she felt the heat of his naked chest through the thin tee shirt she wore. When the mask was on, he was very affectionate and flirty, but this felt altogether different.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">This was just for them.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">When he finally pulled back, he pressed a light kiss to her forehead and moved down the hall, no doubt to take a shower. She stood motionless, replaying the feeling of his lips on her skin, of his arms around her, over and over again. It wasn't until she heard the shower stop that she finally went to the kitchen to start breakfast.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">During her first morning break, after the poetry class that she detested, she called the machine at their apartment to see if the bastard had called yet. She was worried about her friend, he'd seemed so withdrawn when he had left for class. The insults and constant negativity were starting to affect his music as well as his grades. He had been spending more and more time on the roof of their building, isolating himself, and she knew that it was so he wouldn't have to keep up the pretense of being happy and social. Sometimes at night, when he thought she was asleep, she would hear him throwing things in his room or screaming into his pillow. He was screaming so fiercely that even though their beds were only separated by a single thin wall, he didn't hear her tears for him.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">It was her late day, and she didn't want to think about what state he might be in when she finally arrived home. Last month, the first had fallen on a Friday and he had gone drinking after the call he received from the old man. She didn't know if he was trying to prove something to his father, or to himself, but when he came back to the apartment, he brought a girl with him. Cold and alone, she was already in bed when she heard the soft titters of a decidedly female voice from the other side of the wall. Bile rose in her throat as she heard the girl's muffled moans. In her mind she imagined him kissing some perfect looking blond sorority girl, with long slender legs wrapped around his waist.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">It sickened her that rather than turning on some music and drowning them out, she'd listened, desperate to hear his voice. Without consequence to her own fragile heart, she wanted to know what he sounded like when making love, something that she would never hear in her own bed. Despite her nausea, she found that the erotic sounds of the girl's nasally voice, and his gruff moans aroused her. Putting her hand against the cold drywall, it was the closest that she would ever get to touching him.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">She sobbed harder that night than she could ever remember having cried before.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Hour after hour, class after class, she was distracted by thoughts and memories of him. She prayed that his father would be too busy ruling the world to call this month, but she knew that he was unfailingly predictable in that regard. Of course she wondered if his mother had lived, would the woman have put a stop to the harassment of her son? There wasn't much she knew about the situation except that the woman had died just before he had started college, and that he missed his mother terribly.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">When her last class finally ended, she called home to see if he wanted Chinese take-out. He didn't answer. She sighed, and picked up the food anyway before heading back to the apartment they shared. Pulling in behind his black jeep, she was relieved to see that he was home rather than at a bar picking up another random girl. She climbed the two flights of stairs to their door, surprised to find it unlocked.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">"Hey, I brought food, are you hungry?" she called through the stillness creeping through the apartment like a physical presence. The quiet was unnerving; he always had some kind of music playing. She set the food on the counter and quickly went to his room. It was empty. She checked her room and the bathroom, they were empty as well. The apartment wasn't big enough for him to hide. He simply wasn't here, though his wallet and keys were on the counter. An ice cold shard of fear slid into her stomach as she took off at a run for the door and then the stairs that led to the roof.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">At first, she didn't see him as she scanned the roof quickly in the failing light. She searched around the dusty air ducts and padlocked power stations, her panic threatening to consume her. Heedless of the beautiful sunset view afforded to her, she continued to search the dingy space. When she reached the opposite side of the roof, her heart caught in her throat. He was sitting on the waist-high safety wall with his legs dangling over the other side. It would take nothing more than a nudge to make him fall. With her heart pounding in fear, she walked quietly to where he sat.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">"Hey," she said quietly trying not to startle him. He didn't say anything; he just kept looking down at the street below. As she moved to stand next to him she saw that his face was completely blank, and that scared her more than anything. Resting a hand tenderly on his shoulder, she felt that he was shaking, though his tee shirt and jeans were more than adequate for the warm night. He didn't move, he didn't speak, he simply stared.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">She made her decision in an instant.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Taking his hand, she pulled in an effort to get him to come off of the ledge. After an initial resistance, he turned slowly and planted his feet on the ground, standing before her, his face still blank. She led him inside and back down to their apartment, but rather than stopping at the table to eat or taking him to his own room, she took him to her bedroom. Laying her hand on his cheek, she waited until he looked down at her. She noticed with great relief that the mask hadn't returned, that he was allowing himself to feel.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">"Do you trust me?" she asked in a whisper, and almost immediately, he nodded. Letting her hands slide purposefully over his chest, feeling his nipples harden under her touch and over his abdomen feeling his muscles tighten, she pulled his tee shirt out from where it was tucked into his jeans. He lifted his arms, allowing her to pull the shirt from his body without argument. It seemed he was beyond that, simply craving the affection and the comfort that it might bring him. She knew that was all it would mean, but she couldn't bring herself to stop, to deny him what he needed most.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">After unbuckling his belt, she opened his jeans, and pulled them down along with his boxers. He stepped out of them numbly as she wondered if it was his trust in her, or his pain that made him so compliant. God, he was beautiful. It was the first time she had ever seen him nude, and heat flashed though her as her cheeks flushed. With her face level with the curve of his hip, she wanted to kiss him, lick him, and suck him until he was as aroused as she was. But it wasn't about her. It was about him. She had no idea what had transpired in the conversation with his father, but she was determined to bring him back from that dark place.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">"Lie on the bed, on your stomach," she urged and he complied without emotion or comment. As he lay motionless on her bed, she couldn't help but think about the fact that he was finally there. He was naked, and in her bed as she had dreamt about for so fucking long. Her heart ached at the lack of joy in it.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Sitting on the side of the bed, close enough so that she could feel his body heat against her hip, she opened the bottom drawer of her nightstand. Pulling the thin, sheathed rope and a box of condoms from its depths, she set the box on the surface, and unfurled the rope. He still had his face buried in his arms as she laid the rope out next to him.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">"Put your arms over your head," she whispered and he looked up at her, noticing what she held. His eyes held hers, and his gaze was imploring as he reached up and grabbed the slats of her headboard. Resting his head on the pillow, he was facing her now, but his eyes were closed. He would have looked almost peaceful if not for the pain still radiating from every line in his face. She took his left hand and rested it on her thigh as she wrapped the rope around it easily. Knotting it firmly, she took his other hand and using the longer loose end of the rope, bound his right wrist to his left. When he was secure, she left a lot of slack in the rope as she bound the loose end to the headboard. He would be able to move his bound wrists, but not separate them.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">She laid her hand on his shoulder, watching for any signs of distress from him, but he was motionless. Sliding down the bed carefully, she bound his ankles to the footboard in exactly the same manner. She took one quiet moment to run her fingers lightly through his hair knowing that she would never have the chance to do so again. Then, quickly pulling off her own clothes with absolutely no flourish or pretense, she stood over him feeling more naked than she had ever been.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Grabbing his discarded jeans from the old second-hand rug that separated her from the cold hard wood floor, she pulled his leather belt from its loops. Praying that he would not hate her for what she was about to do, she doubled the worn leather in her right hand. Placing one steadying hand on his lower back, she swung the belt feeling her heart break at the loud cracking sound and the subsequent cry of pain. He didn't ask her to stop, he didn't protest with either word or movement. He simply lay there and let her beat him.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">After the fifth strike with the belt, he started to scream.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">He turned his face into the pillow, and screamed with each snapping blow. She knew that she wasn't exacting enough force for that kind of reaction, but the sound still ripped through her. It was raw and anguished. Tears streamed down her face as she watched his slim hips writhing on the bed, as his cries of grief and loss were torn from his throat. She continued with even measured strokes, watching his skin flush under the relentless torrent of blows. His soft skin trembled, relenting around the unforgiving leather of the belt.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Her arm ached, and just as she was finally about to concede, he began to sob.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">At long last, she had broken through.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">The belt hit the floor with a clatter as she crawled onto the bed next to him, his body heaving with the weight of his pain. Pressing her body close to his, she stroked his back, his hair, and his tormented buttocks.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">"That's it, baby, please just let it out…" she begged, moving her hand up to stroke his long hair as his face remained buried in the pillow as it if could absorb his anguish. For a long time, she held him, trying to console him. Eventually, as the room receded into full darkness, he began to calm and soon had stopped crying.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">"He told me that once I graduated, he never wanted to see me again. The only reason he paid for college was because it was my mother's dream," he confessed, his voice cracking under the strain. "I'm alone now," he whispered as if he were afraid to say it aloud.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">"You'll never be alone," she whispered back as she kissed the back of his neck gently, lifting his hair off the nape. He tilted his head slightly, giving her more room and she took that as a sign of acceptance. She moved her lips down over his shoulder, covering it with feather light kisses.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">"I have wanted to touch you like this for so long," she murmured into his skin, and she felt him lift his head to look at her, but she couldn't bear what she might find there. She begged silently for him to just give her that one night, it didn't matter that the dawn would destroy her. He moaned softly, whether at her confession or her ministrations she wasn't sure, but she trailed a line of kisses down his spine. A small keening whimper burst from him as her lips trailed over the soft skin of his buttocks, still suffused with heat from the belt. The sound quickly turned frustrated as he figured out that he couldn't move into her touch, couldn't spread his legs. He could do nothing, but accept her sensual caresses. His muscles clenched and relaxed, over and over, almost shuddering under her careful lips.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">"Please…" he moaned, and that one word caused a wild spasm of need though her belly and her already ripening sex. Trailing one trembling hand along his inner thigh, she watched as his hips thrust down into the bed. He was so turned on by what she had done that he was stroking himself on the soft down comforter beneath him. She watched him for a long moment, his flexing hips, the way his hands clenched into tight fists around the edge of one of her pillows, but mostly she listened to the out of control sounds coming from his writhing form.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Untying his ankles quickly, she helped him to roll onto his back. She could not bring herself to remove the bindings from his arms for fear that he would leave. With his head resting comfortably on a pillow, she looked her fill of him, from his red swollen eyes to his fully erect sex. Straddling over his thighs, she ran her tongue slowly up his side causing him to buck beneath her. She smiled lightly as she used her tongue to deliver barely there flicks around his hardening nipple.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">"Oh God…" he whimpered straining his hips up, stroking her tender stomach with his thick erection as she pulled the bud between her lips. With maddening slowness she kissed along his pectorals moving to the other side of his chest to lavish the same attention on his other nipple. He began to squirm against the bed in earnest, completely unable to contain himself. It brought her arousal to new heights, heights she had never reached with anyone.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Turning her head to the side, she caressed his chest with her soft cheek and her hair as she slid slowly down his shaking body. Kissing along his side, and down over his hip she almost painfully avoided the aching erection straining towards his stomach. Pinning his hips to the bed, she licked and grazed kisses over his pelvic bone and heard the headboard straining as he pulled against the rope binding him to it. Looking up briefly, she saw that he had his bottom lip between his teeth and his head was pressed back into the pillow.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">She smiled at the sight before running her tongue gently along the crease between his inner thigh and his hip. His erection grazed her cheek, and she moved closer, peppering his pubic area with kisses, burying her lips and her nose in the coarse hair. God, he smelled like spice and musk and sex. She reached down and fingered one of her own nipples as his whimpering got louder. The sounds were so raw, so primal, that she couldn't stand to tease him any longer. Flattening her tongue, she ran it along the underside of his erection from the base to the head. He bucked and cried out as if he were going to come right then, but instead she captured the head between her lips and sucked.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">"Oh, my God…" he cried and she opened her mouth wide and once again buried her nose in the hair at the base of his sex, only it was embedded in her throat. She could feel his muscles strain as he tried not to move, tried not to thrust into her mouth. His balls tightened in her small hand as she rubbed them lightly.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">His head rolled back and forth on the pillow as she looked up at him. Eyes tightly closed, every muscle in his neck and shoulders was straining as her head bobbed lightly, stroking him with her lips and her tongue.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">"Please…I can't…" he moaned as his hips continued to grind back against the bed. She pulled away looking up at him.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">"Untie me…Please…" he implored, and she felt her throat burn with the rejection. She knew it was too good to last, that he could never want her. Crawling up the bed, her hands shook as she untied the knots around his wrists, she would worry about getting the rope off the bed later. Not looking at him, she started to get out of bed when he grabbed her hand and, scooting lower in the bed, pulled her to straddle his lap as he sat cross legged on the bed.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">"I wanted to touch you too," he whispered and ducked his head to take one of her nipples into his mouth. She took full advantage of the position and drove her hands into his silky hair, holding his mouth to her breast. Crying out in pure unbridled joy, she felt his arms move around her back as he cradled her.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">As much as she wanted to prolong the moment, she could no longer wait to have him inside of her. Snatching a condom off of the bedside table, she ripped it open and flung the packaging onto the floor. Moving back just a bit, his hands fell to her hips and she rolled the latex down his rigid length. With his hands still on her slender hips, he helped her to impale herself, sinking down until he was sheathed fully in her tight, warm sex. He held her there as his eyes closed as she reveled in the feeling of their union, afraid that her heart might burst.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Her arms went around his shoulders while his went around her waist, and he pulled her as close to him as he could. Gently, she rocked back and forth, causing him to thrust into her, but allowed them to remain as close as two people could get. His face was pressed against her breasts, covering them with light kisses as they made love. It was more than she could have ever dreamed.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Soon the sensations, the sheer joy of their lovemaking, overloaded them. He dropped his face to her shoulder, and she rested her cheek on top of his head never breaking their perfect rhythm. He shifted his position slightly, and then his length was stroking that tiny bundle of nerves deep inside her that would be her undoing. Faster and harder she rode him, using her legs and her hold on his shoulders as leverage. Her sex was clenching around him, tightening until she thought she would scream.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Her climax hit her with such intensity that for a moment she forgot to breathe. With her head thrown back, she clutched at him, all measure of decorum forgotten. He drove up into her, trying to prolong the feeling, but as all of her muscles tensed, including those around his sex, which was already ready to burst, he came, exalting her name as if in prayer.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">They stayed like that, joined in the most intimate of ways as their breathing began to slow.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">She knew that their time was over, and like any fairy tale, the magic was about to end.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">Therefore, it surprised her when he lifted her slightly and pulled the blankets over them both after discarding the condom in her bedside waste basket. Spooning behind, and wrapping both arms around her, he sighed lightly into her hair. She reached back and stroked his hair as his lips found her ear and his whisper filled her soul with joy.</span></div><div style="line-height: 125%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif";">"You are my family now."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in;"><br />
</div>J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4986527296763604100.post-31473084069379623752011-01-01T09:08:00.000-08:002011-03-13T09:45:42.225-07:00Fragile<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="color: yellow; font-size: xx-small;"><em>Copyright (c) 2010 - J. P. Barnaby</em></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://dl.dropbox.com/u/18662024/Fragile.pdf" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_531877452"><img border="0" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqUtnRHEGvU4T-Kec7a52AnlyOCC24WtDjTWp15uSna6eOxvI7C5S2HVDKDS8dbI9ctqk-Tbtd68Wk6jxJFX6lYTgmfN1POQzXi4kX-s-0sVCbsfumjTcNoTslyzqPQAWZ1zCSR0c3duE/s1600/reader_16x16.png" /></a></a><a href="http://dl.dropbox.com/u/18662024/Fragile.pdf"><span style="font-size: x-small;">.pdf Download</span></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">It wasn’t until I was five years old that I knew, without any measure of doubt, that I was different.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">My father was a large, rather jovial man, a man that I looked up to and admired more than any other in my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He just wasn’t particularly fast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My fifth birthday came in the spring of 2000 with a glory that belied the nondescript sky and the post-snow pre-summer day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember it clearly so many years later because it was not just the day I realized that I was different, but it was also the first time I ever saw my father fail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, parents were human and I would see it again, just as he would see me fail from time to time, but at five my parents were still super-human.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I find that poetic now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">It was mid-April, and the snow had finally stopped falling onto our small down of Pedukka, Illinois.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The leaves were coming back to the trees, the grass had been revealed, and even the air seemed to give off a greenish glow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Spring had finally come, and with it came a beautiful red bicycle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t like the old bicycle sitting in the garage with its comically painted figures on the cardboard stuck into the front of the handlebars.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bike, that despite my father raising the seat as high as it would go, still bruised my knees as I rode.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This new and glorious machine was sleek and stylish, made of steel and chrome, and high gloss paint.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was just one thing missing, well, a matching set of things really.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">Training wheels.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">My old bike, for all of its failings, was equipped with sturdy, reliable, indispensible little wheels on either side of the back wheel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They, more than my own developing sense of balance, kept my smooth, unblemished skin from coming in direct and violent contact with the sidewalk that stretched for miles in front of our house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That one small detail, that one minor anomaly kept me from my new gift for nearly a week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A week of side-long glances at the object of my dreams and desires as I sat on the back patio, a week of my friends asking if they could ride my new shining machine, and a week of my father becoming increasingly exasperated with me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“It’s time for you to be a big boy, Scotty,” he said on the Saturday following my birthday as we sat on the back porch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘You’re going to be starting school once summer is over, and you will be able to ride your bike there, don’t you want that?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Miserably, I nodded.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Well, none of the other kids have training wheels on their bikes at school, son.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You need to learn to ride it properly, or you can’t take it to school.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">The next day my dark brown curls were security locked under a new plastic helmet, and my wide green eyes were watching my father give me instructions as we stood under the old maple tree next to the sidewalk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was tall for my age, so even on the new bike, so my father had to raise the seat an inch or so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had on a pair of my older jeans, a silent expectation that I would fail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At least they and the old <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Incredible Hulk </i>sweatshirt that I wore would give me some measure of protection from the unforgiving concrete.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">A few of the neighborhood kids stood scattered around in front of their houses conspicuously held a forgotten Frisbee or a plastic sword limply at their sides as they watched me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Feeling like I stood in a huge and well-focused spotlight, I lost track of what my father had been saying until he lifted the new big bike onto the sidewalk with the handlebars facing the longer stretch of pavement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ours was just the fifth house on the street, so pointing toward Lake St. I had miles of concrete in which to figure this out.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“I won’t let go until you’re ready,” my father was saying as he held on to the back of my seat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Reluctantly, and with more than a little trepidation, I got onto the bike.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My knuckles were nearly white from the pressure of holding on so tightly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My hands trembled slightly with fear and excitement, and it felt like the whole bike was vibrating from it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In that moment, I felt my determination, my sheer willpower to make my father proud solidify into a tight ball in my chest, and I felt warmer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t the kind of warm you felt on a hot day when you needed the sprinklers to keep you cool, it was a warm that started from the inside and worked its way out.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Are you ready?” my father asked me with a quiet determination of his own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted to just nod, but I felt like some kind of verbal affirmation was required here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was a rite of passage; it was a huge step in every boy’s life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mother standing inconspicuously to the side snapping image after image on her old digital camera was proof of that.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Yes, dad,” I told him quietly, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">And then, I was flying.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">I rode fast and hard down the expanse of sidewalk with my father right beside me, his huge hand holding onto the back of my seat, steadying me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was amazing!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My knees didn’t bang into the handlebars, and I felt myself going faster than I ever could with the much smaller wheels of my kiddie bike.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I looked back at my father, just a glance to see the pride in his eyes as he ran next to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His face was flushed and sweating trying to keep up with me, and I remember clearly the moment that he no longer could.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">My father’s eyes widened with fear and apology as his hand slid off of the back of my seat.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">The panic swelled inside of me as I watched him bent over clutching his side, and then I turned back to the sidewalk before me to face the unknown.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The handlebars wobbled a bit, but I continued to remain upright as my mind blocked the idea of just hitting the brakes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I kept going, foot by foot along the sidewalk, the fear and panic being slowly replaced with something else entirely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My father had let go, and I hadn’t fallen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was doing it!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was riding without training wheels!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">Only belatedly did I realize that I was riding right towards Lake Street.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Scotty, stop!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Walter catch him!” my mother called from behind me, and I heard my dad running again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Still, I couldn’t make my mind work through the excitement and the fear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I turned my head to look behind me, almost imploring my father to catch me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I stopped pedaling, would I fall?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What did I do?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The decision was made for me in an instant when my front wheel, which had drifted off course as I watched my father, lodged in the crack between the sidewalk and the grass and the bike stopped instantly. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">Unfortunately, I didn’t stop with it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">I heard my mother’s scream as I was launched over the handlebars of the new bike.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was strange how time seemed to slow as I was airborne.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I saw the horror of my father’s face, and saw my mother running from much farther behind him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I remember being impressed at how far I’d ridden just before my helmet covered head slammed into the ground, and I heard the tremendous crack of my arm breaking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I slid to a stop about ten feet from my bike and started to scream.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">I screamed from the pain, and the fear, and the shock of my father’s inability to protect me as he said he would.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Scotty, can you hear me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let me see?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My father’s voice was so close, and I felt him pull at my arm and the scream came again ripping through my throat.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Walter, is he okay?” my mother’s voice asked, and I felt tender hands unsnapping my helmet. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“I think he broke his arm, and his leg is bleeding,” he said above the sound of my crying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My whole body felt like it was on fire, but it was especially hot in my right arm and my right leg where I had landed on the pavement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the feeling in my arm and leg grew hotter, the pain became sharper and more focused.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I screamed again, and I felt my father lift me from the ground and carrying me quickly back to our house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“What about my bike?” I whimpered as the pain peaked, and then started to subside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The heat seemed to have peaked too because I didn’t really feel it as sharply anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was more like a warm glow on the right side of my body now.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Don’t worry about that now,” my mother said, her soft brown hair pulled back from her face, except for the small tendrils that were stuck to her damp forehead and neck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Let’s just get you inside.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My father cradled my arm tightly against his body as he hurried across our yard towards the almost cottage-like country blue house where I spent my youth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">Of course, the house is gone now, destroyed in the fire set to cover my parents’ murder.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">Gently, my father carried me through the doorway and set me down on the burgundy leather couch that was the center piece of the room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I rested my head against the arm of the couch and my father positioned my legs on the cushions.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Carefully, Walter,” my mother urged, tears streaming down her pale face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It scared me, to be honest, because I don’t remember ever having seen my mother cry before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was I that badly injured?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could see the blood on the torn and frayed knee of my jeans, but there was no pain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The pain had gone away with the heat.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Mama, it’s okay, it doesn’t hurt anymore,” I told her, hoping that this would stop her tears. Unfortunately, it just made the situation much worse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mother gasped, and slapped her hands over her mouth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My father looked back at her and held her gaze for a long moment before pulling a pocket knife from his jeans.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“He must be in shock,” she whispered to him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’ll get him a blanket.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She ran over to the hall closet and pulled down a large quilt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wasn’t cold; on the contrary, the warm was still glowing a little inside me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She held on to the blanket while my father sliced my jeans opening the hole that had been ripped out during my fall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He pulled back the layer of fabric, and then he looked at my mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ripping the jeans down the whole length of my leg, he searched my skin and I couldn’t figure out what was wrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, he took my right arm gently in his hands and moved it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just looked at him, trying to figure out what he was doing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Carefully, he helped me remove my t-shirt, and I looked down to see that everything looked the way it always did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, why did my father look so frightened?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Jeanette?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jeanette his arm was broken, his leg was all cut up and bleeding, I saw it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s still blood on his jeans, but not a scratch on him!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What the hell is happening!?!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">~ - ~</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">It wasn’t until I was eleven that I noticed just how different my parents treated me both from the way they had been towards me, and from the way other parents were with their children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was almost like I was a bomb they thought might go off at any moment.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">Tick</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">Tick</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">Tick</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">I wasn’t allowed to take gym, I wasn’t allowed to go outside for recess, I was treated like an intricately spun glass antique.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They explained it to the school administration as some kind of calcium deficiency which was a rare condition that my father’s brother, Doctor/Uncle Marvin, confirmed in a note.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The condition, or so they explained to the school, caused my bones to be extraordinarily susceptible to fracture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As such, I was imprisoned in the school office for each gym period and each recess.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never understood this, but I was forbidden to speak about it to anyone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That wasn’t a problem since no one at school would talk to me anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once I was identified as different, labeled as outside the norm, I became a social pariah.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">It was the loneliest time of my entire life.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">My parents never talked to me about why they had caused me to become a social outcast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, I know now, but then, it was a level of confusion that my adolescent life really did not need.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had figured out that their erratic behavior must have something to do with my bike accident, the one that I’d had when I was five.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Walter and Jeanette Green became completely different people after that day, and I never saw my beautiful red bike again.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">For years, I was alone, I was angry, and I was scared - until I met Andy Weber.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">Andy Weber moved to our small Illinois town near the end of our sophomore year of high school.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His cheap, worn clothes, the old ratty backpack he carried, and most of all, his dark personality caused him to be almost instantly shunned by the self-important student body of Davidson High School.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked him instantly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I liked the way he didn’t bow to the peer pressure, or the way he stood up to the teachers when he didn’t agree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was everything that I wasn’t, and I never understood how we became friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It must have been our shared unpopularity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As much as I didn’t want to admit it to myself, I also liked the way his sandy hair fell over his eyes when he was writing, or the way his muscled arms flexed, barely obscured by his t-shirt when he put on his almost retro styled backpack.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The most haunting thing about Andy though, was his eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was almost like he’d lived an entire lifetime behind those deep brown eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think it was his eyes that became my downfall.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">Slowly, without any real conscious effort, we began to gravitate toward each other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We sat together in classes, we sat together at lunch, and we looked out for each other.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a few weeks of this, we started to become friends, and I found that his social persona was just that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Andy Weber, the real Andy Weber, was a nice guy with a good heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I promised him faithfully that I would never tell.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“My mom died when I was three,” Andy had confided in me once as we sat on his bed looking through a few of the hundreds of comic books that he had accumulated over his young life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was never really interested in comic books, they weren’t my thing, but I had hundreds of mystery novels stacked in my room so I could relate to his love of reading.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seemed he had the same goal I did when I read, to escape the constant barrage of insults at school, the overbearing parents, and generally just our miserable lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My sticking our face in a book, or a comic book, we could pretend even for a little while that we were someone else. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We could pretend that we were someone exciting, someone that people admired.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">As strange and controlling as my parents were, I don’t know how I could live without either one of them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were my whole world up to that point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mom took me to school and picked me up, even though we lived less than a mile away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My father helped me with my homework and played catch with me in the backyard, surrounded by the privacy fence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I asked him once why we couldn’t play catch at the park like my friends at school, he just said that he didn’t want me to get hurt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">Maybe it was because of all of the time I had on my hands, time in my teenage years that should have been spent in social activities with my friends, but I started to get restless.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a last ditch effort to finally break hold of my parents outrageous grasp, I convinced them to let me join the chess club.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was just a few nights a week, I reasoned, and chess wasn’t exactly a contact sport.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In time, they relented, but I found no more acceptance among the geeks than I did among anyone else.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, I started spending the time that I was supposed to be at chess club at Andy’s.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My parents would never have allowed this, of course, because Andy’s father worked nights.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">For a while, we were alone, and I was free.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">It was during these nights, alone with Andy, that I found my true self.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">As I look back now, I know that those small hours of freedom cost me so much more than I had been willing to pay.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">I still remember how that horrific night started, like it was a stained glass image reflected on my mind by the bright flame of my own self-hatred.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had been at Andy’s, like every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday night, because that’s when the chess club met.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the night I was going to finally tell Andy how I felt about him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sexuality was something that we never talked about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He didn’t tell me about girls he liked, and I never told him about guys I liked, but I just got the feeling from him that what we had together was something more than just friendship.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Andy, can you turn it down for a second, I need to talk to you,” I had told him, very loudly, over a particularly harsh speed metal song now blaring, slightly distorted, over the too small speakers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His expression, curious but open, gave me hope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were seventeen year old boys about to embark on their first adventures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My heart raced, and I felt a light sheen of sweat break out on my forehead and palms as he hopped up and sat cross legged on the bed in front of me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Possibly sensing that what I wanted to tell him was important, he didn’t fidget or badger me as I sat quietly, playing with the zipper of the hoodie I wore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">Up</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">Down</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">Up</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Scotty, come on, whatever it is, it can’t be that bad,” he said quietly, and I looked up at him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Slowly, he paled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Are you moving away?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With his father’s job, Andy had moved more times than I could have imagined, having lived in the same house for as long as I could remember.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Andy and I had been worried since he moved here almost two years ago that his father would find another job.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was happy here, and of course, I was happy with him being here.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“No, it’s nothing like that,” I replied with a soft sigh, trying to frame the thoughts that I wanted to convey to him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How do you tell another guy that you like him?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How do you tell anyone?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not for the first time, I wished for at least some kind of social skills, skills that my parents had long been denying me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">Down</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">Up</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">Down</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Alright, you’re fucking killing me here, just spit it out.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To anyone else, it would look like he was starting to get exasperated, but I could see the fear behind the façade.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wondered if he would consider it to be bad news.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“I like you,” I said bluntly, and even though I was trying to keep my expression completely neutral, my face flushed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt the heat spread through my cheeks, and down my neck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His expression went from forced exasperation to confusion in an instant.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“I know that, I like you too?” he replied, and it came out more as a question than a statement, like there was some big piece of the puzzle he was missing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, there was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My eyes fell to the black comforter on Andy’s bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“No, I…I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">like </i>you like you…” I forced out running my finger along one of the comforter seams.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I’d have looked up, I would have seen him come at me, but I didn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The next thing I knew, he was on top of me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I prepared myself for the blows, but what I didn’t prepare myself for was the kiss.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His fingers wrapped around the back of my neck, pulling my face to his and then his lips were on mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was hungry and charged heavily with emotion and need.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d never expected my first kiss to be quite like that when I had pictured it in my head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">This was better.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">Andy tasted like chocolate and something close to heaven.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I whimpered against his lips as he pushed me back onto the pillows and lay down next to, and half on top of me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I loved the feeling of his weight, and tangled my bare legs with his.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Andy’s long hair fell on either side of our faces like a short curtain, just enough to pull us into our own little world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As soon as my mind caught up to what was happening, I wrapped my arms around his strong back, and I felt his soft moan as our mouths opened again and again against each other.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">I fisted the back of his silky black hair, trying to get closer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I could have crawled inside of him in that moment, I would have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God it felt so good.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">His lips moved down over my cheek to my neck, and I heard him murmur against my skin “I never thought I’d hear you say that to me.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">~ - ~</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After that school year ended, I had the best summer of my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Andy and I got closer, I grew three inches so that I was taller than just about every guy in my class, and in the fall I would turn seventeen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The times I loved most that summer were just lazing around in my room, listening to music and kissing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We didn’t dare attempt any more with my mom in the house, and my mom was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">always</i> in the house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was enough for then.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a year we would be able to go off and have our own adventures, either together or apart, and I was really looking forward to getting out from under my parents’ control.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">I should have been much more careful what I wished for.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">It was towards the end of that summer that I first started seeing the shadow man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">One rare afternoon, my mom let Andy and me go off on our own and walk down to the small convenience store on the corner of Elm and Park.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, I had no bike, I’d never gotten another one after that first little red bringer of misery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Andy left his at my house as to not antagonize my mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If she thought I rode on his pegs, she’d never let me go anywhere with him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We talked about the classes we’d chosen to take in our senior year since we’d gotten our schedules a few days before at registration – another rare outing for us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Yeah, thank God I got out of taking that Literature class.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I decided on Astronomy at least that will get me out of the house at night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You took that one too, right?” I asked Andy as we rounded the corner of my street and started walking north on Elm.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Yep, I think my dad is going to talk to your mom and see if they want to split the cost of a really good telescope instead of just buying two cheap ones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can come over here on Friday nights and we can do our homework.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A nice Meade would work, maybe even one with a computerized tracking system and software.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A few of the lower end models even have USB hookups for your laptop,” Andy said, and I was surprised.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Usually, Andy didn’t find anything interesting or exciting about school, but the prospect of an Astronomy course, especially one that included a really good telescope really made him engage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His eyes below the black bangs he’d grown out over the summer were bright and excited. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">It was hot.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“What?” he asked coming to a stop just a block south of Park.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I smirked at him, and he grinned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Looking around to make sure no one was around, I was about to whisper to him what I’d just thought, but I saw the car on the other side of the street.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not even sure now what made me focus on it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a nondescript black jeep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The soft top was down, and there was a guy just sitting behind the wheel watching us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I nudged Andy and jerked my head in the direction of the jeep.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">The guy behind the wheel looked to be tall and thin, though he was sitting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The doors were off of the jeep, so I saw that he was wearing black jeans and a black t-shirt, even in the late August heat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The expensive-looking sunglasses he wore obscured his eyes, but his hair was shoulder length, wavy, and jet black, hanging loose and neat from a part on the left.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His bangs hung down over the glasses, and I noticed that he had a short goatee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He couldn’t have been older than thirty, but the way he watched us made him feel menacing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“All black, black hair, are you sure he’s not related to you?” I asked Andy, and he shook his head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Dude, you’ve never seen my dad?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m supposed to have light brown hair, the black is a dye,” he replied, still looking at the jeep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Let’s get out of here, I really don’t like the way he’s watching us, he looks like a perv.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">I glanced back over my shoulder as we made our way quickly to towards Park.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The guy <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did</i> look familiar, like I’d seen him on TV, or at school or something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just couldn’t place it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">Of course, that wouldn’t be the last time I’d see him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">~ - ~</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">I saw him several more times over the next month, driving down our street, parked at the bank across the street from Andy’s house, even near my dentist’s office for my checkup.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each time that I saw him, he never really acknowledged me, he didn’t approach me, he just sat there….watching.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was eerie, but of course, I never told my parents, they would have locked me in my room until I was thirty as protective as they were.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A few times I wondered if they saw him, if they noticed that there was a grown man stalking their son.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">It wasn’t until my seventeenth birthday that things spun wildly out of control.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Scotty, your father and I need to tell you something, could you come in here for a minute?” my mother asked on the morning of my birthday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was sitting in the living room with my father right by her side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever it was that she wanted to tell me, it couldn’t be good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I opened the soda that I had just pulled from the refrigerator, and walked slowly into the living room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Neither of them would look me in the eye.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">I sat down in the floral armchair across from the couch, unconsciously perched on the very edge as if bracing myself for attack.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My fingers gripped the arms of the chair, and I waited.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did one of them have cancer?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Were they going to stop me from seeing Andy?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did they know I was gay?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Scotty, this is going to be really hard for me to tell you, so I’m not going to drag it out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your father and I have decided that you’re old enough to tell you that…well….that,” my mother stammered, and that frightened me even further.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mother never lost control of what she was saying, and I remembered feeling that suddenly, I wanted to be anywhere but in that room. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Son, what your mother means is that we adopted you…when you were six months old,” my father elaborated, and felt my blood run cold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wasn’t their kid?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’d been essentially holding me hostage since I was five years old, and I wasn’t even their kid?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The burning in the back of my throat, and in my eyes caught me off guard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Taking a deep breath, I was determined not to cry, I wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My chest constricted, almost painfully as questions raced over and over through my mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where were my real parents?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did they know that there was something different about me too?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is that why they got rid of me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where my adopted parents going to get rid of me too?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">I remember being very scared at that point.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Wh…why?” I asked, falling back against the back of the chair, my hands trembling on its arms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Why?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why did we adopt you, honey?” my mother asked, and her face remained composed, even though my whole world was spinning out of control.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“We wanted to help a child that had no place to go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are so many children in this world that…”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“No!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stood up, knocking the arm chair backwards so that it landed with a loud thud in the middle of the living room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My parents, my adopted parents, looked at me in surprise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mother’s hand flew up over her mouth, and my father held her hand just a little tighter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Why the prison?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why can’t I be normal?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve been miserable since I was five years old, since you decided that I wasn’t allowed to play, have fun, or even have friends!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now I find out that you did all of that to me, and I’m not even your kid!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I started towards the door, and as I turned the handle I murmured just loud enough for them to hear over the sniffling of my mother “It doesn’t matter why.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Scotty!” my father called, the sound cut off as I slammed the door behind me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Adrenaline was coursing through my veins, and I stormed down the stairs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had no idea where I was going, all I knew was that I had to get out of there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Looking up towards Lake Street, I saw a couple of kids playing football in a yard a few houses down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The other way, a group of teenagers stood on the sidewalk, laughing and talking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Vaguely, I was aware that these were kids that I went to school with, maybe a year or so behind me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It didn’t matter, it’s not like I was wanted there, so I opted to head over to Andy’s.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">The door opened as my feet landed on the sidewalk, and I started to run.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t want my parents to catch up with me, or try to stop me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Right then, I remember feeling trapped, and needing to get away from them for a while, to think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My father yelled for me again as I ran towards the street.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could cut through the Hammond’s back yard across the street from us and then it was just a few houses over to Andy’s house.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">The scream took me by surprise, but no more so than the pristine blue pickup truck that slammed into my side.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">Pain, such that I had never known before or since, exploded through my body as I felt myself cartwheel through the air.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had a distinct impression of the windshield blowing out as my head connected with it before rolling off of the far side of the hood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Screeching tires mingled with the screaming, and I didn’t even bother trying to put my hands up to break my fall as I connected hard with the street.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“SCOTTY!” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">I had no idea who was calling my name.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Blood was flowing copiously onto the street as I lay there unable to move.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sun was hot as it beat down on me, and I felt sweat starting to streak through the blood.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Scott, can you hear me?” That was my father’s voice, shaken, frightened.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then lower, away from me he said, “Jeanette, we have to get him out of here.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Walter, I called an ambulance,” someone said, and it sounded like Mr. Hammond.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only another adult would call him Walter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Don’t worry, it’s going to be okay.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">I could hear the tears in my father’s voice when he asked my mother what they were going to do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From where I lay on the concrete, I just wished that they’d get me out of the sun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My body was on fire from the pain, and the heat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mr. Hammond came closer, and I could see his face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was then that I realized….I wasn’t in the sun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, I had heard of spontaneous combustion, but I didn’t really know much about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The thought occurred to me that I was starting to burn from the inside out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Screaming as the pain peaked; I just wished that I could pass out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Between the heat and the pain, breathing was starting to become unbearable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“It’s okay, baby.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It will be over soon,” my mother whispered in my ear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t tell if she was talking about the pain, the burning, or my life but as she said it, the pain started to subside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t know if I was just going numb, or into shock, but I was thankful for the reprieve.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The burning stayed at just above my tolerance level and when I felt my mother’s cool hand on my cheek, I whimpered.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Holy mother of God.…”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph….”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">The gasps when up all around me, and I couldn’t tell what the commotion was about, but the burning had started to subside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt sore and drained, like I’d just run from one side of the state to the other in a matter of minutes.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Come on, we have to get out of here,” my father said quietly to my mother and me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The crowd that had assembled around me backed up quickly as I sat up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I took inventory of my limbs and my torso, I saw that I had no injuries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was blood everywhere, but no cuts, no broken bones, and no bruises.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If my clothes hadn’t been ripped and soaked with blood, I wouldn’t have known that I’d been hurt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Oh my God.</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">My parents took away my bike after I fell.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">My parents never let me do anything where I might get injured.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">I was adopted.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">The panic welled inside of me as I sat there on the street, surrounded by gawkers and covered in my own blood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My heart was racing, beating frantically in my chest almost as if it were trying to escape.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt more than I heard my breath coming in labored gasps, hitching, punctuated with terrified sounds, so that I sounded just as lost and scared as I felt.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">Questions popped like flashbulbs in my head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who was I?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What was I?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What would happen when people found out that I was a freak?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who was that guy following me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did he know what my body did when it was injured?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I felt disconnected from my body, like it was a separate and uncontrolled entity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes, I still feel that way, even though I know the truth.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Come on,” my father said, pulling me up from the ground as the rest of the crowd backed up even further.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one spoke.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one approached us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They just stared.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was the noontime attraction at the zoo, the carnival freak on display.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My parents sheltered me the best that they could from the spectators, but soon we were inside of our house, safe – from them at least.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Pack everything that you can into the back of the truck, we have to get out of here.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My father was more frightened than I had ever seen him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He rushed from his desk to the kitchen pulling out drawers seemingly at random.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mother had run upstairs to start there.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Dad…I don’t…I don’t understand…” I said, stammering as I watched him rushing around, and I could almost feel him vibrating as he passed me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Why do we have to leave?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Because you’re the missing genetic link in human evolution,” a voice said from near the door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My father dropped the framed picture that he was holding, and it shattered on the hardwood floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He pulled me behind him and faced….the shadow man.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Stay away from my son,” my father said, and his voice was much steadier than it had been even just five minutes before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Jason, you need to come with me, right now.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The shadow man looked out of the front door, and then closed it tight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Walking over, he pulled the curtains, and then stood in front of me again.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“M…My name is Scott…” I said, still stunned at his appearance, and what had happened outside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My whole world had just swung on its axis, and I was barely hanging on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Maybe… But you were born Jason Sanders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My sister named you after our father,” he said and his voice softened at the mention of his sister.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Your sister?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That would make you … what, my uncle?” I asked, my brain finally starting to catch up.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“How did you find him?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My father seemed to have caught up too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“It was a closed adoption, no one was supposed to know where he was, or who had adopted him.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Look, we don’t have time for this,” the man said looking out the window again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“One of those teenagers was taking video, it won’t be long before that goes viral on the internet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We need to get you someplace safe.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Hey man, I don’t even know your name, I’m not going anywhere with you,” I said just as my father bellowed basically the same sentiment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“My name is Logan Jeffries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My sister, Dr. Melinda Sanders was your mother and an extraordinarily talented geneticist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your parents met while working on their doctorates, their thesis work was on fetal genetic manipulation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were trying to make stronger healthier babies, and as I’m sure you’ve figured out by now, they succeeded – with you.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He paused, and I took that chance to interrupt him.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“So, I’m an experiment?” I asked, starting to feel a little sick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“I won’t lie to you, kid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You were conceived in order to further their research, yes.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Taking in my expression, he hurried to continue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“That was at first.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After you were born, your mother fell in love with you…completely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You were the baby she never knew she wanted. “<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He smiled at me briefly before his expression turned dark.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Your father, on the other hand, never saw you as more than just an experiment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once the initial testing was done, and they’d done everything they could that was non-invasive, he wanted to do more extensive testing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wanted to see just what you could do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only way to do that was to deliberately injure you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your mother fought him every step of the way, but when you were about four months old, she came to the conclusion that he would never stop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your father was an ambitious man, and he wanted to start using what they had learned, he wanted to put the theoretical into application, the only way he could do that was to complete the experiment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your mother brought you to me and asked me to keep you safe.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His eyes clouded over, and his voice got very thick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sat down on the chair behind me, knowing that I wasn’t going to like whatever was coming next in the story.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Once I took you and started the adoption proceedings to hide you, she….she killed him, and herself,” he choked out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was obvious that he loved his sister very much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why else would he go through all of this trouble, this nightmare for a kid he didn’t even know?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“H…How?” I asked because it seemed important.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“She blew up their lab while they were both working, making sure to destroy all of the evidence of your life so that no one would be able to track you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was such a hard decision for her, because mankind would have really benefited from their research, but it might have led to you, and she felt she owed it to you to hide you as well as she could.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I looked up at my dad and he was pale.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Now that people know, someone will come for him won’t they?” he asked Logan, and I felt the ice cold fear grip my chest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Most likely, government people, because they can do whatever they want under the guise of patriotism.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Can you imagine an army of soldiers that can’t be injured?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How much would that be worth?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Surely it would be something indescribable next to the life of some no name kid.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Dad, what do I do?” I asked just as someone knocked on the front door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Logan straightened up with a jerk and looked carefully out of the front door.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“It’s okay, it’s just your friend,” he said and pulled open the door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Andy looked shell-shocked at Logan standing in my living room with his hand on my front door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He walked hastily into the room, making sure to skirt away from Logan.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Dude, Duncan just sent me a video of you from his phone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What the hell is going on?” he asked, and I noticed that his voice was shaking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Poor Andy, he had no idea what to think, what to feel, just like I didn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Andy’s eyes kept flickering to Logan.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Andy, I don’t have a lot of time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m…I’m leaving tonight with Logan,” I tilted my head to indicate that I was talking about the black-haired man standing in our living room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Come upstairs and help me pack.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I looked over at Logan and he nodded, and I grabbed Andy’s hand and pulled him upstairs with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I heard Logan call that I had half an hour, and then we had to leave.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">Shutting my bedroom door, the first thing I did was watch the video that Andy had on his phone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By a horrible coincidence, he had been taking video of his friends screwing around and even captured the first few seconds of the accident.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In horrified silence I watched the truck hit me, now seeing what I had only felt just about half an hour before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The injuries looked fatal, and there was blood everywhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After just a few minutes, I watched, fascinated as my injures started to heal themselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Watching it felt like it took less time than the pain and burning that I had endured.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">I remember thinking – was that really me?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">I had always known that I was different, but I had never felt special or exceptional, just excluded.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As I watched the jagged red rip in my forehead slowly stop bleeding and close, something inside of me changed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No longer the outcast, or the pariah,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I now knew the reason that I was different and it was significant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the screen on the phone went dark, I handed it wordlessly to Andy and pulled the huge backpack we used for camping from my closet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As Andy watched, still apparently shocked into silence, I packed jeans, t-shirts, briefs, socks, everything that I could fit that was clean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took my laptop, my cell phone, and everything else of value and put it in my school bag.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">There was no way that I could know what would happen, but I wanted to be as ready as I could be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had no money, and would be relying heavily on a complete stranger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To say that I was terrified was an understatement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It would take a far greater leap of faith than I was ready to do in order to trust Logan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was just too much left unknown and too little time.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">In time, I would come to look on him as a brother, but then…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Wha….What are you?” Andy asked, finally.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I zipped up the backpack, and sighed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sitting on the edge of the bed, I looked up at him, and quickly gave him an abbreviated version of the story Logan had told me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The more I told him, the wider his eyes became until I was sure they would pop out of his head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t blame him, the story was rather farfetched.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">Andy leaned down and picked up my school bag from the floor, slinging it over his shoulder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“As much as I hate to say it, and as much as it will hurt, I think he’s right – you need to get out of here,” he said, looking at the floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I grabbed my big backpack, checking the alarm clock beside my bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had been up here for twenty seven minutes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was time to go.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">I followed Andy downstairs and we set my bags on the floor in front of Logan, he gave me a half-smile, seemingly impressed that I followed his instructions so well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My father handed me an envelope and I peeked inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was a large stack of twenty dollar bills inside.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“That’s all we have on hand right now to help you, I’m sorry, Scotty,” my father said as he wrapped his arms around my shoulders in a hug that I thought might result in injuries that needed my special gift.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Logan took the envelope from me, and handed it back to my father who looked indignant.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“Jason’s parents were considerably well off when they died, and that money came to me and to Jason.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You are going to need that to get out of here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will take care of him,” Logan said quietly, and after a brief look at my mother, my father took back the envelope.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“It’s time to go, Jason,” Logan said pointedly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With the fear battling against sadness in my heart, I walked over to my father and hugged him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I heard a quiet sob break from him at the loss of his son.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had loved and protected me practically my whole life, and I never once appreciated it until now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was a horrible son.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“You be careful,” my mother said as I held her against my chest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had been taller than her for several years at that point, and she was cradled in my arms like a child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In that moment, I could have stayed like that for days even though just hours before I was furious with her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My whole world had changed in a matter of minutes.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“I know that we have no choice in this, he is going to be hunted now and us right along with him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If no one knows he’s with you, he will be safer that way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please, take care of our son,” my mother told Logan, and he nodded, leaning down to grab my school bag from the floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I walked behind him to the door and Andy caught my wrist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Without thinking, I set my backpack on the floor once again, and pulled Andy into my arms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our lips met as my hand snaked it’s way through his hair, and the gasp I heard from my mother reminded me that I hadn’t yet told them that I was gay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mother found out quite a bit more than she ever wanted to know about her son that day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I kissed Andy, burning the memory of his lips into my mind, desperate to remember.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">When we finally pulled apart, I pressed my forehead against his.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">“I will miss you so much,” I told him, and it was the truth, he had been my only real friend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now the only person I would have to talk to was a grown man and a complete stranger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Knowing that I would never be able to walk out the door if I looked back, I followed Logan to his Jeep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He threw my things into the back, and I climbed in to the passenger seat next to him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">The next thing I knew, we were speeding off into the night, driving head on into destiny.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">It was just over a month later when I saw that my house had burned to the ground with my adopted parents inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They had given their lives….for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To this day, I can’t describe the horror that I feel when I think of them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 125%; margin: 0in 0in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.3in; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><span style="font-family: "Book Antiqua", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 125%;">They were the pawns, always the first to fall in battle, but the war had only begun.</span></div>J. P. Barnabyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16639928850047825658noreply@blogger.com0