Disclaimer: This story should only be read by adults and those claiming to be adult. This story for all intensive purposes is true, though some events have been changed and others exaggerated. Names and places have been changed, but I hope you enjoy. Please E-mail me at St_Rory@hotmail.com for any comments.
My Second Time By Rory M.
I'm not sure how to start this story, so I guess I'll start at the beginning. The very beginning. As you'll find out, I'm Rory and this is my story, it span's probably the most painful part of my life, but I'm not going to explain in depth all 19 years. I'm your average Upper Middle class, Catholic School boy. I come from a family that is as dysfunctional and humorous as they come. But then you have to have a sense of humor growing up Irish and being swapped around from your drunken mother to your grandparents and then back to your mother and stepfather, right? I'm the only son, also. I have three sisters and am the only one to send on the family name.......that dream lasted for 15 years, until everyone found out I wasn't the fathering type. Yes, I'm gay, why else would this story be here? But that isn't all I am.....I think. I grew up pretty much in the Heart and Lung facilities and ICU at Children's Hospital of Philadelphia, as did my little sister Gwen, but we'll get to her later. We could be the poster children for the Surgeon General's adds on not smoking or drinking during pregnancy, but such is life.
Well, without much else I think I'll start in the present. I'm 21 going on 55, isn't life grand? I guess you could say I'm your average weakling. I've already demonstrated myself as sickly, and standing at 5'6"' and 120 pounds doesn't help much either, but I was excused from gym anyway. My looks aren't that spectacular, though I've been called adorable.......it makes me feel like a lost puppy. I've got auburn curly hair and green eyes. My skin tone could be described as albino, with some freckles to add character.
I'm finishing college this fall, I took a semester off my sophomore yeah and it's come back to haunt me, if you will. But it's one semester and I don't have to go through the monotony of walking on graduation day. I go to Vila Nova, outside of Philadelphia. It's been good to me, but it wasn't that inspiring socially. A couple thousand upper middle class, drunk, catholic, white kids every where you looked. It made me miss the diversity of where I went to high school. Funny, I hated high school, but now I think back on it as at least an interesting melting pot in the middle of New Jersey. Now, I'm sure you're wondering when I'm going to get to something interesting and sexy. Well, honestly, you might have to wait a while, I have to jump back a bit to really start.
I figured I guess when I was 13 that I had no interest in girls, I didn't lust for guys either, not until a routine asthma attack and a young medical student. Nothing happened, of course.......but that doesn't mean he didn't make it into a few dreams every few nights. I guess I realized after 6 months of masturbating and wet dreaming to Dr. Stud that I realized I was something different. Within a year I knew that there was no turning to the other side, I was hopelessly gay. Fact is, it mortified me. My Stepfather, who at the time I loved dearly, my grandparents, my peers, and especially church didn't give me a secure feeling about my sexuality. I was down right scared and ashamed of it. I was an altar boy, I was nice to my sisters, I did my meds, why me? I slipped into a depression for most of my freshman year of high school. I didn't understand myself and I was going through the biggest identity crisis in my life. My only comfort was my little sister, Gwen. Well, little isn't the best way to put it. We're only 11 months apart in age, our mother was a busy woman. She's got a vulgar sense of humor and my mothers Irish temper. She was my best friend, and the only one who didn't flinch through anything that would happen to me through the next few years.
By chance my sophomore year I had found someone who was like me, well....at least in sexual preference. Anthony had 2 years, 3 inches and 40 pounds on me, and at the time I found it a turn on. I was so alone, and finally had someone to understand me and love me. I knew I loved him, that was certain. We went out for 5 months or so. No one had any clue, my family liked him and thought he was a violin instructor, I never got in much practice then anyway. He was sweet to me, and I didn't mind giving him head, even though sometimes he demanded it, almost forcing me. It scared me, but I thought he would never hurt me. I guess it was about April that the happy little existence I thought I had found crumbled, no.....it blew up.
No one had been home at my house that Saturday, so I invited Anthony over as usual to hang out, cuddle, make-out hopefully. I was surprised when he said he wanted to fuck me after an intense moment on my bed. I guess it was my fault for being a sentimental romantic and wanted my first time to be special, so I promptly said no. At first he pleaded with me, with little kisses and, "please, pretty please? With sugar on top?" but that didn't last. Soon I found myself being knocked around, and the next thing I knew I was pinned onto my bed my the back of my neck, with my feet on the floor and pants being ripped off.
I don't remember what he said. I remember everything hurt from being beaten up before he pinned me, and sobbing uncontrollably. I remember the sharp and intense pain from him ramming himself into me and fucking me without paying attention to my screams and crying. Every struggle to get away from him was met with a punch to the side or the back of the head. After a few minutes I gave up and just prayed for it to be over. I prayed to God that he would kill me, I prayed to God as the thought crossed my mind that this was my punishment for being gay. It seemed to last forever, and the pain never stopped. He just kept going and I kept crying through the pain. When he finished he flipped me over and punched me into unconsciousness, I woke up the next day in a hospital bed.
The next few weeks were a nightmarish blur. My Grandmother and Sister stayed by my side the whole time. By now it was out that I was gay, but thankfully no one knew about the rape, they just thought my boyfriend beat me up and left me to be found. I don't know exactly how the doctor's over looked that part of my anatomy, but I guess they assumed it was what the result of gay sex looked like. What ever the reason no one knew, and I thought I was saved. My stepfather couldn't look me in the eye, and didn't file charges. Coming home the following week wasn't a welcoming.
In all I healed and went back to school. I was ostracized by most, but that was to be expected. I guess being outed saved me the anxiety of coming out, it was fun. I didn't tell anyone about the rape. At the time I was convinced that it was bad enough being gay, so I might as well get through that feeling of rejection. No one would have understood me anyway, I don't even think walking into a rape survivors meeting would have helped, either. The unloved gay boy walking into a group of man-hating women was not the therapy I was looking for. I instead kept it to myself and attempted to bury it. All I got from that as I look back now was a deep depression, 3 suicide attempts, and a bipolar disorder. But with all of that loneliness with a few exception of my sister supporting me and 3 or 4 die hard friends I managed to have a lot of study time. Thank God, as soon as I could I got out and went to college, at the time I thought it was the best thing for me.
My first year of college I learned to hold my liquor, what a friend with benefits was, and what true friends were. Sounds great, but when I came home that summer I fell into a great physical and emotional illness. I couldn't handle the rejection of my stepfather, I couldn't handle being myself. So, I was sent to a therapist and a specialist and to an aunts house for rest and a semester off from school. Gwen came every weekend to cheer me up. She brought me porn that made me laugh and stories that made me miss home. She also let me cry, a lot. My sister was my rock. She let me get out my anguish and never asked questions, at least not twice
This get away lasted until about Christmas, when I finally went home and faced the music. My stepfather still couldn't look me in the eye, but I guess after 3 1/2 years of knowing he could at least say complete sentences to me. I felt kind of relieved. Before I was outed my step father treated me like a prince, it was a hard downfall. But life goes on. After another failed suicide attempt and more therapy I went back to school, still harboring the secret that had taken so much from me, and yet was still eating me away.
It was an uneventful spring, to say the least, until one afternoon I ended up hungry and in an almost empty diner. I was nursing a crock of French union soup and pondering an assignment for a sociology class when a man came in and sat at the counter next to me. I didn't think much of it, other than I wanted to be alone and I hoped he wouldn't try to talk to me, for I wasn't big on social interaction much at that time. At first glance I found him to be somewhat attractive, or at least intimidating. He was 6'5'' and had to be at least 200 pounds. He dressed in all black, wore dark glasses and had an oddly appealing goatee. Facial hair never did it for me, but it suited the stranger. He also had to be in his mid 30's, so I assumed he'd notice I looked like a pubescent boy and not bother me. I quickly went back to slurping soup and minding my own business when I saw him pull out a magazine. At first I thought it was Men's Health, but then I quickly realized Men's Health doesn't use nude models. To say the least I was taken aback slightly, and he noticed it. "Does this bother you?" He asked sincerely as he turned to me.
Yeah, I was caught staring and I couldn't get my way out of it, so I blushed uncontrollably and stuttered. It was a great first impression on my part, truly. He laughed at me and put the mag away. I was still puzzled at why he would pull that out in the middle of a restaurant.
"Sorry about that, didn't mean to upset you. I'm Tim, by the way." and he held out his hand to me.
"Uhh, don't worry about it, I've got that one at home. And I'm Rory." Why the hell had I just said that?
"Oh, so then you don't mind. Good, now I can get my afternoon reading in."
"Um, could you not? The waitress here isn't homofriendly." I said trying to keep my voice down and not seem so nervous.
"Oh, I see. Well then Rory, tell me about yourself then, since I don't have any other form of entertainment now."
At this point I was ready to run out of the place. The whole semester I had been battling social anxiety and now I was backed into a corner, and my food hadn't even arrived yet! At first I avoided the conversation of myself and asked about him. Soon we were on neutral topics, politics heavily, since that was my major. After talking about the evils of the GOP and somehow getting onto the topic of Bob Dole's penis, we had both finished our meals and were irritating the waitress. I reluctantly grabbed my bag and started saying my goodbyes to my friendly companion when he stopped me.
"I know this seems odd, but I enjoyed this conversation and I'd maybe like to see you again it you were interested."
'Was he asking me out? He's so much older than me, I don't want to date, and I don't want to have a relationship again. I don't know this guy, what does he want with me?' My mind raced and I broke out into a cold sweat as I just stared back at him, I must have looked like an idiot.
"Just to get to know you more as a friend." He must have seen the 'deer caught in the headlights' look on my face. He bailed me out, how could I say no to something so innocent...sounding.
"Sure, I guess." I said with a sigh of relief.
"Great! I live off of South Street if you wanted to meet up there sometime, can I put your number in my cell?"
"I love South Street, I'd love to." I must have looked to eager now, what was wrong with me?
I gave him my number and we parted ways. For the rest of the day I felt strangely relaxed and content with myself. I didn't really expect him to call; I wasn't that nice to him really. I looked like an asshole at the end, but it was a nice afternoon. A few days of classes studying and monotony went by. Thursday afternoon I was reading for my macroeconomics class when my phone rang. At first I assumed it was my roommate's girl friend, because she's the only one who usually calls, but I was shocked when I heard Tim's voice on the other end. I was dazed and taken aback at first, but by the end of a two-hour phone conversation I was going to meet him on South Street on Saturday morning. We had talked about nothing in particular, I did make it clear I just wanted to be friends, and he seemed to agree with it. I was excited now, I actually liked the guy, and was going to possible get to know him.
Saturday morning around 10 I met Tim at the South Street Pier. It was a windy morning, but it was pretty warm and a nice day in all. Conversation was light, I think he sensed I was nervous, but I soon warmed up to our casual walk and talk. We went to breakfast and a few shops. Soon we found ourselves at the Condom Factory, and who can't go into the Condom Factory? We went in and looked around, cracking jokes about certain toys and what kind of guys would use such things.
"Who would use this? And who would let someone who could fit into this near them?" He said holding up an oversized condom.
"I'd have to be abstinent around that guy, sorry." I said with mock fear as I moved on to look at other humorous sex toys.
"Would you ever use any of this stuff?" as I held up a pair of handcuffs to him.
"Nah, I'm more of a romantic. I'm a flower, chocolate, little kisses kind of guy."
At this I laughed as I looked at the imposing figure who just described himself as a teddy bear. "I never pinned you the sappy type."
"Neither did my last boyfriend, but the shock wore off."
"How long ago did you go out."
"We broke up about 6 months ago, went out for a year. But it was fun while it lasted. Have you had boyfriends?"
"One, a long time ago. I'd rather not talk about it." I said looking away. No need to get bitter in the sex-toyshop.
"Ok, not a prob." He said and patted me on the back gently.
We spent the rest of the afternoon walking around South Street and Penn's Landing, it was a nice day and I was really starting to like this guy. By ten o'clock I was exhausted and really needed to get back to the dorm, the campus was 45 minutes away and I wanted to get there soon. I started explaining this to Tim when he caught me off guard.
"Why don't you just crash at my apartment, I've got a comfortable couch." He said nonchalantly.
"Oh, I don't know if that's such a good idea." Over the course of the day I had developed a crush on the older man, and going back to his apartment didn't seem the safest thing to begin with. Older, larger and stronger men never came to be a positive thing to me. Needless to say I was reluctant.
"Rory, it's just a friendly offer. If you want to stay friends that's fine, that's all this is." It's as if he was reading my mind.
"No, it's not that I just..." But that was it. I was afraid I would want something more or he would. I didn't want to get into something like this again.
"Just what? I don't want you to have to trek across the city tonight. The Only thing to worry about is staying up all night drinking coffee and talking to me." He said with a knowing smile.
At this point I gave in and went back to his apartment. I was mortified at first, but he stayed true to his word. We sat on his oversized couch, drank coffee, and talked into the night. I found that I had a lot in common with him, and he understood where I was coming from. He also never knew his father, and understood what it was like to never have that influence. Some how we got onto the subject of how we came out, and I was more than willing to change the subject. He explained how he didn't come out until he was 23, and that he wished he had done it sooner, but in all his family wasn't too miffed about it. When the question turned to me I tried to avoid it, but he immediately picked up on my nervousness and morose expression.
"I take it coming out for you was rough?" He said and hugged me around the shoulder.
"I didn't come out, I was outed." I said laying my head on his shoulder. It felt comforting to be held, and he seemed like he would understand.
"I'm sorry, do you want to talk about it?"
"No, not particularly." I said with a shaky voice as memories came back into my memory of what the past almost 4 years had been for me.
At this point it was around 3 in the morning and I was exhausted. My composure was lacking and I found myself beginning to weep. I was embarrassed and tried to get away from him. I asked to go to the bathroom, but instead he hugged me and reassured me that it was ok. Well, that did it and the floodgates opened. I felt like a fool crying on a practically a stranger's shoulder. He kissed my forehead and rubbed my back as I sobbed and tried to explain how hard it was being gay where I came from. I guess I fell asleep soon after, emotionally exhausted balled up in his arms like a lost puppy who wondered onto his doorstep. He must have thought me to be a complete emotional time bomb, which for all intensive purposes I was.
In the morning I woke lying next to him on his couch. I was cuddled into his side with my head on his chest, he was still holding me, and it seemed that he was still sound asleep. I crawled over him careful not to wake him to get to his bathroom. After relieving my bladder, I looked myself in the mirror. I looked haggard and worn out. When I returned to Tim's living room he was awake and sitting up on the couch. I felt awkward and didn't know how to act now. He again read my thoughts and expressions and asked me to sit down with him once again. Cuddled back into his arms he thanked me for trusting him and telling him my problems, though he didn't know the half of them. He said he was around for me to talk to if I needed it, and I always had a place to go if I needed it. In all honesty this was new to me, and I thanked him and was overly grateful that he even wanted to see me again. I soon had to go back for I had work that needed to be done for the following week of classes, but I thanked him for everything, and we made plans to see each other again.
As I returned back to school it felt as if I was lighter, but I didn't know why yet. Soon I would find that Tim was going to be my savior in more ways than one.
I hope to make this a two-part story, and have the next part out shortly. Thanks for reading it, and please send me comments at St_Rory@hotmail.com or Rory Danial on AOL Instant Messenger.