The Secret Life Of.....

I was on Disney’s website checking out the new upcoming movies when my cell phone rang. My friend Chris called to ask me out for a party.
Somehow, Chris still consider himself a closet homosexual even though anyone who has ever spent a late night at his place knows otherwise. You didn’t have to clear a thousand on your SATs to figure it out.
All Chris’s classmates from high school and college, along with his parents, were still in the dark about his homosexuality.
Normally I would say yes to a party, but I was still pissed about the last time I saw him. He flirted with a guy he knew that I wanted just to make me angry.

One day, our friend Zack told us that he’s going to meet someone and he wants us to be with him, (he doesn’t like being alone when meeting someone new.) Zack, Chris and I met the stud in a restaurant; he looked like a cross between Matt LeBlanc and The Incredible Hulk. While clearly this wasn’t going to be a relationship, I wanted him for myself ,to take advantage of me.
His name was Mathew and he was cute, in a darker, more mysterious than average way. Chris immediately thought about him but I told him to back off.
Chris and Zack started an intense conversation about religion and life on other planets. Those two topics were about as interesting to me as Tyra Banks’ love life, so I just bided my time and waited for an in to the conversation.
The more Chris talked, the more I got the impression that something was definitely wrong with him. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I kept glancing at Mathew for his reaction, but he was barely paying attention to me. Maybe I didn’t look so good, I worried. But I knew that was impossible. I had had a facial and a haircut that day. I’d have to be Tarzan to not look good at that point.
Chris was going on and on about how sometimes he can see his dead relatives, not really leaving much room for me, Zack and Mathew to get to know each other any better–– though I don’t really care about Zack’s situation, he’s dumb and I don’t like him.
I needed to talk to Mathew and charm him, so he would start paying attention to me, but he didn’t seem interested at all.
We were having dessert when Chris said he had to go to the Men’s room. Finally, I would get some stage time. I could talk about my theory of dwarfism and how I think there is an undeniable connection between them and the Little Dipper. It wouldn’t be long before Mathew realized that I was more than just a pretty face.

But still, he kept on eating and nodding only. I hated Chris, and Zack for no reason.
Later that night, Mathew said sorry to Zack and he asked him if he can have Chris’s number. I’ll leave the rest to your imagination.

So when Chris asked me to go to the party with him, I refused.
“Come on, pleeeease, it will be so much fun. It’s at the Marina club, there’s an open buffet, and there will be hot men.” These were all valid arguments, but I wasn’t giving in. I was seriously considering cutting him off for good.
“I’m not even sure I ever want to see you again,” I told him.
“Don’t say that!” he hissed. “It wasn’t that bad, you’re totally overreacting.”
“Chris, you are ridiculous, you have no respect for anyone. How many times have I been to your parents’ house and not only behaved myself but quoted actual verses from Qur'an?”
“What if I pay you?” he asked.
I had always dreamed of being a professional escort but never thought that there was any real money in it. He wanted me to go there because, on numerous occasions, I would hit on a guy whom Chris liked, and if he did respond, Chris would move in; This way no one ever found out that Chris was indeed a flaming homosexual, unless Chris ended up sleeping with him, in which case he spontaneously found out.
“How much?” I asked.
“Two hundred dollars,” he offered.
I guffawed loudly and then pretended to choke. “Homo you don’t!” I said. “That’s not nearly enough money to pretend I like you again like before.”
“Please, please, just come with me, it will be fun, we can both meet people.”
“I’m not picking up guys for you,” I said. “Not for two hundred dollars.”
“You’ll do it.”
“Not for two hundred,” I told him. “I’ll need some other incentive.”
“No more than two hundred and fifty dollars.”
“That sounds reasonable,” I said in my best impression of a litigator.
Chris picked me up in a town car outside my place.
“Look at you!” he squealed as I made my way to the car. “Three words: beau-teee-ful!”
“Thanks,” I replied with cool air of an aristocrat. I wasn’t giving in to him that easily; he was going to have to work for my forgiveness.
The marina club is located north of the country and, as the name might suggest, overlooks the sea. Throughout the course of our ride, when I wasn’t staring out the window, I was reminding Chris of how lucky he was to have a friend like me.
“You better drop this shit when we get to the party. I said I was sorry and let’s focus on tonight,” he said. “You could meet your future boyfriend here. There are a lot of rich and successful young men in the club.”
“I’m not that shallow, asshole. I don’t need money,” I said matter-of-factly. “It’s way more important for them to be good-looking.”
We finally arrived at the front door. Chris grabbed me by the arm and pulled me toward the patio. There were various food stations all around and two bars positioned at either end.
“I’ll get us drinks, you find somewhere to sit,” I told him. I went to the bar and ordered sodas.
“Ten dollars, please,” the bartender said.
“This isn’t an open bar?” I asked.
“Only for well drinks,” he told me. “The well drink is Gordon’s.”
“Who’s Gordon?” I asked him.
He half smiled at me, shrugging only one of his shoulders.
“Hold on,” I said and ran to Chris. “Give me money, its not an open bar. This party is starting out very badly, Chris. Not so good, so far!” I asserted that an unhappy Sam would lead to unhappy times. He got the message.
After I paid for our drinks, I came back to find Chris being harassed by a middle-aged woman wearing a strapless cotton-poly blend that pushed her breasts out like a shelf. Her hair was three shades too light and she was holding what I presumed could only be a Chardonnay. Women like this love Chardonnay. She seemed very taken with Chris.
She kept moving closer to him and I didn’t want to steal her moment, so I discreetly took a seat at the table behind where they were standing and observed. Five minutes later, she noticed and introduced herself. “I’m Jessica,” she said, extending her free hand.
“Sam, how are you?” Chris said.
“Oh, I’m sorry, are you friends?” she pointed back and forth between us.
“Yes, he’s my swim instructor, we’re very close.” I winked at her.
Chris turned his head in order to avoid eye contact with me and with her.
“Are you a professional swimmer?” she asked.
“Synchronized swimming, actually, I’m the only professional synchronizer who can compete without a nose plug,” I told her.
“Is that right?” she asked excitedly. “How are you able to do that?”
“Well, it’s not easy,” I told her. “I’ve trained myself to hold my breath underwater as well as above water for close to six minutes at a time. Each competition is five minutes.”
I, of course, didn’t have the faintest idea if this was true, but five minutes sounded like a reasonable amount of time to be able to hold your breath. Why anyone needed to hold his breath above water was beyond me, but when I make up things up, I rarely have a filter.
She had a confused look on her face and opened her mouth to say something when I cut her off.
“There’s a good chance I’ll be competing in London in 2012.”
Chris coughed loudly and sat down. “Actually––”
I interrupted again. “He’s so superstitious, he doesn’t like me to talk about the Olympics or any competition before the trials, he thinks I’ll jinx myself,” I said dismissively. “I keep telling him God gave me talent and there’s nothing to jinx about that.”
“Amen!” she said.
“Hallelujah!” I responded.
She turned to Chris and put her hand on his arm. “A swim coach. You must be in fantastic shape!”
Chris smiled sheepishly as I got up to excuse myself.
I wandered over into another room dominated by a massive chandelier. The club was huge and extravagant, with four separated patios. I love places that are spread out like that; this was once you embarrass yourself in one area, another forum is just a hop, skip, and jump away.
I went to the buffet and filled my plate with some chicken with Asian sauce and went to sit by a window all by my lonesome. I put on my sad, wounded, dovelike expression to let any potential male suitors know I was available and, more important, vulnerable.
After a good ten minutes of no one approaching me, I saw a hottie walk by me in a beautiful pink shirt. He demanded a compliment.
“Excuse me,” I said as he glanced around, trying to see where the voice was coming from, “I absolutely love your shirt.”
“Thanks,” he said, finally noticing me. He smiled. “That’s sweet.”
He sat down next to me and we started talking.
“By the way, I’m Nathan, and you are..?”
“I’m Sam.”
Nathan told me that he was an Entrepreneur, Digital Marketer, Economist, Financial Manager, and Photographer. He studied in University of Sunderland in UK and had just came back from there. He didn’t know that many people and came here to try to reconnect with some friends. Most of his friends were married and he had just ended a relationship with someone because he hated his ex-boyfriend and didn’t want to expose his future offspring to them.
This could definitely turn into a relationship. I knew because I didn’t want to sleep with him right away, and I’ve felt that way only a couple of times. He was solid, good-natured, and most of all he was successful in his job.
He told me that I look quiet familiar.
“Really? Why?” I asked, worried if he saw my profile in that gay website I’ve been fooling around for weeks.
“I don’t know, the way you talk and the way you look are very familiar.” he said.
“Well, maybe déjà vu.” I said, taking a sip from my coke.
“Do you have any older brothers?” he asked.
“Yeah, one.” I smiled.
“How old is he?” he asked.
“WHAT?” I shouted, because they started playing techno songs and couldn’t hear anything.
“How OLD IS HE?” Nathan screamed this time.
“Nineteen.” I said as I came closer.
“His name is Sean?”
“Yeah, how did you know?”
“Oh god! I can’t talk to you I’m sorry” he said and shook my hand and left.”
“Hey! What’s wrong what happened?” I followed him.
“Your brother was my friend and we had a fight, we don’t talk.” he said
“Was he your ex right?” I said.
“Yes, do you know that he’s gay?” he asked.
I always thought that my brother was a homosexual but I couldn’t put my finger on it, he knew how to hide it from us.
“Yeah, I always knew.” I said, smiling.
“Okay, that’s awkward! I’m sorry for my behavior but I’ve been through a lot with your brother and I really don’t want to see him anymore.” he said.
And he started talking about what happened between him and my brother Sean, and how my father turned out to be such an asshole and dictator and who used to hit my mother, who was a doctor. I liked the fact that my mother isn’t a doctor; she works in a hospital as the coordinator of office files, but I didn’t reveal the truth and continued listening.
I corrected everything when he finished and told him that my father is one of the kindest people he’ll ever meet and he never hurt a fly, he couldn’t believe his ears and was very shocked and kept asking me questions and I kept laughing and correcting.
Nathan offered to drop me home. I smiled and hesitated because he might use me for revenge or something but he assured me he will be nothing but a gentleman. I accepted and went searching for Chris to tell him that I’m going home with this fine guy; I found him flirting with a guy with a shoulder larger than life and there behind him I saw the drunk lady dancing alone.

In the car he told me that I seem much better than my brother and he’d love to meet me again and we started talking about our lives and why my brother lied about lots and lots of things.
“Maybe he wants to be more interesting,” I said as my mind drifted to the fact that I had discovered lots of my brother’s secrets and could now use them when he wanted to be an asshole with me again, and started laughing and Nathan started laughing. It’s kind of ironic that we started laughing about whole different subjects.
He stopped in front of a huge white house with a big garden in the same area I live in.
“Okay? Why you stopped?” I asked Nathan.
“Because this is your place!” he reminded me.
“No it’s not!” I looked at him, confusingly smiling.
He started laughing hysterically and I looked at him, worried that he’s a serial killer and will kill me with a shovel in his car trunk.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Sean used to stand up here every time I come to pick him up.” he said.
“No way!” I said.
“Yeah he told me that this is his place and your dad built it too” he said.
I couldn’t help it but laugh again and pointing straight to keep on moving. He dropped me home and I kissed him goodbye and since then he’s one the closest friends I’ve ever been with, but of course, Sean still doesn’t know.

Growing Up

Two thousand and seven was a very interesting year for me; it changed my life upside down. Lots of things happened to me that made me a complete different person later on life. It was a very strange year, happy, sad and full of surprises.

I had developed a serious crush on another teacher that year, (James’s co-worker), and was pretty much sure that I was ready for penetration. I had had sex with guys since I was twelve! I was so ready for him.

Mr. Parker was spreading his sexual vibe on me whenever I saw him. I couldn’t resist; he was thirty, beefy, shorter than James, married (of course) with kids, full kissable lips, a very tempting bubbly ass AND he was a teacher! How on earth could I resist this?

Anyway, every year I used to do a project; the year earlier I did a makeover for a school mate and changed his clothing style and became popular. This year I wanted to do something more adventurous; such as sending love letters to Mr. Parker.

#Letter (one)
I am in love with you, don’t act all surprised or don’t even look around to see if anyone is stalking you, you don’t know me.
I just love you and would do anything to be next to you. If you don’t want anything of this, just tell me and I’ll stop.
Mwah, xoxo.


On that day, when school finished, I stood by his car with my best friend Joseph and put the small letter on the driver’s window and went home.

At seven o’clock my friend Chris called me and asked me if I want to go out with him and his boyfriend. I knew Chris for over a year (he is three years older than me.) Being with an older gay friend is not something cool to be honest; I always thought I’m more matured than him, plus, he is so full of himself.

Watching a couple who can’t get enough of each other and sit around making goo-goo eyes back and forth all the time makes me want to slap someone on the face.
All THIS couple did was eye at each other. His boyfriend was all emotion all the time, constantly talking about his feelings and his profound love for him; he was minutes away from getting his first period. He wrote him poems too. It’s my personal belief that if men are writing poems, they’re making up for something else. Like lack of personality, or a big hairy back, or one ball. Not that one ball is a bad thing. Especially since I don’t know any females who are dying to get their hands on a set of balls. The way they see it, the less balls, the better.

On the next day I really didn’t expect anything and I was walking with Joseph on the break and went by the car.

“Oh-My-God! Look at That!” Joseph said suddenly.
“What?!” I said while texting a guy.

He pointed on Parkers’ car window and there was a tiny piece of paper stuck on the wiper. “Oh God! Should we take it?” I said, confused.
“DUH! As if he put it here for the bouncer to take it!” Joseph said while taking the baby blue piece of paper.


RE:#Letter (one)
I have no idea what’s going on, but who is this? And if I don’t know you, then how you know me? Are you a student in here? Are you playing games or pranks on me?
I don’t want you to get in trouble and please don’t get me in them too.

I had no idea what to make of this. After staring at nowhere for thirty seconds with my mouth full of chicken nuggets, I managed to say, “I can’t believe he replied!”

The smile on Joseph’s face made me wonder if he’s thinking about what I’m thinking; he might want to continue messing with Mr. Parker.
The excitement I felt at that moment could be paralleled only by Britney Spears releasing another album. It was time to put the phone in my pocket and the nuggets in my mouth and start thinking about another letter.

#Letter (two)
Umm, yes I’m a student, and I don’t want to cause you any trouble, I won’t tell anyone about it. I want to get with you.
I am serious and I hope you are interested too.


The funny part is when we put the second letter, we saw him coming out his office and he was heading toward the parking lot. Shit.
“Run baby RUN!!” I shouted at Joseph.
And you can imagine us walking like nothing happened.

Joseph and I had been friends for six years, and I am the only person he knows can actually make him look shy. I have a huge personality. I can walk into a room full of people and within seconds take over. When he’s with me he just sits back, relax, and enjoy the show.
I met Joseph while I was in fourth grade, and we grew to be fast friends, and a couple years later we made plans for weekends in some neighbor islands and look for new guys there.
Joseph and I always had a great time when we went out, we were a great team. Men love my straightforwardness and always seem to be charmed by me. I’m a great partner in crime because he doesn’t have to do much except be humiliated. We had perfected our “one-two-punch” technique on several occasions, when meeting someone new, I would talk to his prey about religion, my addiction for chocolate, and his brother who wants to be an actor. He would jump in every once in a while to reinstate his position as his future sexual partner, commenting about how National Geographic’s exposes on the wild were starting to look more and more like an episode of CSI : Miami.

“Here he comes,” Joseph said. “Try not to fuck this up and try to look innocent.”
Mr. Parker walked by us and I looked him in the eye and smiled, he turned his head while still making eye contact then turned again and continued his path.
After the break, I went back to the class and I was studying math. Someone knocked the door and the teacher opened it, a younger kid showed up and gave the teacher a card.
“Sam Roberts,” the teacher was scanning the class looking for me, “Mr. Parker wants you in his office.”
The blood ran to my face and I couldn’t speak.
“Sam! Move your ass” Joseph whispered.
I rose up my chair and walked out the class.
“Did he say what’s wrong?” I asked the student.
“No, he just gave me the card and asked me to go to your class” was his response.
My class was upstairs and his office was near the gym downstairs, so it took me a while to walk there.
When I arrived, I knocked the door and he said come in.
My head popped in and my body was still out and smiled, “can I come in?” I said.
“Yes, please” he said.
His office was nice, and smelled good. His desk was tidy and papers on his right, and the walls were off-white and baby blue curtains waving because the windows were open. I guess baby blue was his color.
“Sit down,” was the next thing he said.
I sat, looked nervous and tried my best to act cool.
I didn’t say anything and he was just looking at me with a little smile on his face and his right hand is on his chin, like he’s saying (you think I don’t know what you’re doing, huh?!)
“Sam, can you help me a bit?” He asked.
“Yeah, sure.”
He gave me a paper and asked me to copy stuff from a paper to another, I tried to change my hand writing but then I said to myself screw it.
I handed him the paper when I finished and he looked at it, and then he put the letters I wrote on the table.
I looked at him like I don’t know anything, until he said “Read them, please.”
I read them, and then I asked him why he’s showing me those letters.
“Someone gave them to me,” he said. “What do you think about them?”
“Well, maybe they like you and they might want to share their feelings with you,” I managed to say.
He smiled and thanked me; he even gave me chocolate and asked me to leave.
When I told Joseph about this he laughed and said “Bitch! I think you got him!”
“I don’t think so, but he doesn’t seem like he’s going to tell the principal.”
We finished school and on our way out we walked by Mr. Parker’s car just to make sure he wrote something or not, and yes he did.

RE: #Letter (two)
I know who you are, and please call me on this number (his number).

“No shit!” Joseph surprisingly, “I told you, you got him!”
I miss called him at night and he called. We started talking and he asked me why him and why I’m doing this, he doesn’t want to cause me any trouble.
After that, we talked for about our lives and other stuff for like an hour and then we said bye to each other and I went to bed.
The next three months were great and during the last month he told me that he treats me like his child and he told me that I can talk about anything and whatever I want with him, but like a teacher-student relationship.
When I graduated from middle school, he called me and asked me if I know any chicks around for fun. I asked him why, he said for a friend and please say yes or no. I said yes, even though I didn’t know any.
The next day I talked to my cousin Monica about it and she said “Let me talk to him as the chick you told him about.”
She called him and put the phone on speakers, he told her that there’s no friend but he didn’t want to tell me that he is the one who wants the girl.
So, we continued our prank and we made an email with fake pictures in it and he got punk’d.
Seriously, a grown man should never trust a fourteen year old about this stuff (he got punk’d many times after that one and with seven fake emails too. I was evil.)
And he even opened his Webcam and showed me all his body, whatever comes to your dirty mind, everything, period.

Before this mess, during our final exams, Joseph was having a headache all the time. I told him that when we finished the exams, he should go to the hospital and get a check-up done.
The doctor said that there’s a tumor in his brain and he needs to do a surgery as soon as possible. He went to the UK to do it there, and we were sending text messages all the time, and one day he sent me a message telling me that he’s going to the O.R now and I have to pray for him.
During these days, I was messing with Parker online, because I was on summer vacation and bored with no friends around. I found out that he’s an idiot and I recorded what he was doing (nude), and I told him as the girl behind the monitor, that I recorded him and he should stop doing with any stranger. He got scared and started threatening about calling the cops, I told him “Are you serious? You asked a minor, your ex-student, to give you chicks emails and numbers, and fuck the love out of them! You will go there and say what? Someone recorded me naked on Webcam? Well, if you are stupid enough to believe what’s happening on the internet, then it’s your problemo mister!”
We didn’t talk to each other after that and I guess he knew that I was just lying.
That all happened in June and Joseph was still away, after his operation he called me and told me that everything was great and he’s fine and he might come back in July.
I didn’t call or text after that because I thought he needed some rest, his birthday came after twelve days, so I sent him a happy birthday message and he didn’t reply. I called and he didn’t pick up, I called his mom and she didn’t pick up either, so I waited for a week, two, three, and nothing happened.
My birthday came and I went out with some friends to celebrate the day, we even booked for Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix movie and before going to the movies his sister called me and told me that Joseph came back two days earlier and, he was in a coma!
“What!! Wha-wha-what happened?!” I asked shocked!

It was the worst birthday ever. The next day, I went to the hospital with my mom and when his mom saw me entering the I.C.U she cried her eyes out, and started screaming hysterically.
I tried to comfort her by hugging her and staying next to her, I even tried to talk to him, he got so thin, and there was a pipe inside his mouth to help him to breathe. Then she started shaking his hands while sobbing bitterly, “Joseph, wake up, wake up!! Sam is here!”
Mom and I just couldn’t take it, hugged his mom goodbye and said bye to his dad and went home and never came back. Two weeks later, on Friday, August the 3rd, it was nine in the morning and I just woke up, his sister sent me a message.

“Sam, Joseph passed away this morning. Call me when you get this.”

I was just blank; sitting on the nearest chair for fear that I collapse or something. I went to my parents in the living room, said good morning, kissed them and had breakfast. Watched t.v and even checked my mails,and didn’t feel anything. Nothing, no emotions, everything a blur, surreal, coz I was probably still shocked.
“Mom, Joseph died this morning” I said while drinking juice.
The hot red color went through to my mom’s face as fast as a Ferrari race car.
She was shocked and immediately called Joseph’s sister.
The next day, I went to the funeral with my dad, his dad saw me and started sobbing; because we were so close and I was always at their home. His uncles were trying to make me feel okay.
“Be patient and may god rest his soul.”
I didn’t cry, didn’t do anything and everyone was saying that my heart is hard as a rock, but I just didn’t.
I only cried when I was telling this story to my boyfriend after two years and I cried a lot, after realizing that he was gone, forever.

One week after that, I was walking alone in a strange neighborhood near my grandmother’s place. It was at night, like 8 PM.
A guy I know but never been close or anything came to me and started talking, (let’s call him Aaron.)
He was talking to me and I wasn’t in the mood for him at all; because I just lost my best friend. Anyway, he pulled me aside by force and looked me in the eye and said, “Come to my place, now!”
I said “No! I won’t go anywhere,” looking left and right to see if I can ask for help “and leave my hand, you are hurting me!”
Then he took my phone which was a very expensive one from my hand, and he said that he won’t give it back until I go with him. I refused and just kept asking him to bring it back.
I couldn’t believe that it was happening; he pulled a knife and started threatening me too. I didn’t have a choice but to go with him.
Aaron took advantage of me and penetrated me.
Despite the fact he used lubricant, it was horrendously painful. The worst part of all was his violating me without a condom: for all I knew, he could have AIDS.
I struggled to free myself but he was on top, bearing down on me with his full weight, with one hand clasped around my neck to secure me. I thrashed about wildly causing him to penetrate me deeper while he pushed my head further into the pillow to stifle any resistance. I was gasping for air and groaning painfully as my legs and arms flailed about wildly. I began to curse intermittently between pleas him to stop, but my resistance coupled with his obvious domination only heightened his pleasure as he panted harder and faster. I prayed he’d ejaculate quickly so the horror would end. My powerlessness obviously aroused him, and he thrust wildly as if to hurt me even more until finally unloading inside of me. After dismounting, he walked away to the toilet as if I was crumpled rag he’d just discarded. I was stunned. Yet I managed to quickly dress and escape without even a thought of taking my phone back. When I returned to my home I scrubbed and headed to the safety of my bed. I lay there miserable; in pain and shock, hoping I hadn’t caught a disease. I’d been raped, and all I could do is to go to bed.
I awake slowly and painfully. I lie emotionless. Two things are certain: my skull is throbbing with pain, and my heart is caught in a vice-like grip of terror. I struggle to recall where it all went so terribly wrong.
The few memories I have are sketchy at best, but they are enough to make me realize that I have to change my life if I want to live.
My mind was active–– in face, it’s a whirlpool of distressed commotion. How did I lose myself, who have I become, how can I find my way back? I rack my brain for clues as to where my life began to go wrong. How could I have changed so drastically from being a promising, carefree town boy into this teenager probably with no future?
These questions play over and over in my head. I’m tormented by them. I feel like I’m drowning distraught; I’m entrapped in a waking nightmare.
One thing is certain: no matter how many painkillers I’m given, they will never assuage the anguish caused by the knowledge that I have been living a complete lie. I’ve gone to ridiculous lengths to hide the damages, the pain and emptiness, of a life lived in the shadow of abuse–abuse suffered at the hands of others and myself.

Teacher-Student Fantasy

HAVE YOU EVER, imagined having sex with your teacher?
You’ll be thrilled to know that the “Britney Spears” fantasy isn’t just for women. Many would even like to take it a step further, playing the naughty tart that won’t stop teasing you until you pull him/her over your knee and give ‘em the spanking he/she craves.

He was like Julian McMahon, 27 years old, married, 2 kids, but boy he was on fire!
He taught me when I was 12 years old and I fell in love with him from the moment he walked through the door.
Many people don’t find Julian hot or attractive but I just liked him— like big time; he was tough, sweet and smart.
I was his favorite because I used to smile at him even in the morning when all the students are half asleep. We used to exchange movies too, (he was a movieholic just like me.) I even used to pass by his office and say good morning and prepare his coffee.

First, here was my problem: my type was pretty much any guy who smiled at me or said “Hi”. That was my type. It’s important to have a type. “Beefy” was another one of my types.
My teacher was beefy. Not fat, not chubby, just had some beef. He was teaching me English, and all I could think of was how I loved everything about him; his green shaded eyes, warm hands, smile, his dimples (Oh God) just the sight of him, induced the heart pounding, throat thickening, absolutely can’t swallow feeling. (By the way, I’m still in touch with him).

After two years in that school, I was in my final year. I was so in love with him, I was writing things like “I -heart– J” on my notebook and stuff like that.
One of my school mates, his name was Ethan, liked me very badly and tried to ask me out several times, but I was rejecting him because I didn’t think it would work out. He was handsome, fit, big brown eyes, tall and he was rich.
He got jealous when he saw those drawings and he asked why I was into an older man. I said I just love him and I was talking about it freely like nothing’s wrong. He asked me if he can borrow my notebook to copy some stuff and I accepted.

Later that day, I was in the class, the weather was sunny, warm and wet, me sitting next to the window looking at the trees and thinking about my love and what he’s been doing at the moment, my BFF Joseph next to me curling his hair with index finger while listening to the teacher’s lecture about something I can’t even remember.
The teacher was fat, half bald, sweaty, and hairy like he is a hair ad with a very bad taste in clothes. The door opened, a younger student came inside and gave the teacher a small piece of paper.
“Joseph?” the teacher said.
Joseph turned his head to the teacher who was wearing a green shirt with a huge coffee stain on it.
“Yes?” Joseph said
“Mr. James wants you in his office.” Mr. Kraft said
“Okay.” He winked at me while standing up, I hoped that no one saw him.

I wondered “Why the hell Mr. James wanted Joseph and not me!? He doesn’t even teach us anymore!” but I just waited.
Ten minutes later, Joseph came again and his face was red. I saw him and freaked out. The look on his face was horrifying.
“WHAT’S WRONG?” I asked him immediately after he took his seat next to me.

“Later.” he whispered.

For a second I thought that he called him to organize some files and fix some papers, he liked Joseph a lot and always been sweet to him. I was a bit jealous because he changed his attitude after the year he taught me and started to be cold with me. My time in heaven was up.

After that period, it was a break and we went out for breakfast.
“Joseph,” I would say repeatedly as we sat behind our class, “you’ve got to tell me what happened!”
“Honestly,” Joseph said “I really don’t know, but he found out that you love him…”
“WHAT?” My eyes widened out with a mouth full of chocolate butter sandwich, “How? When? What did he say? Tell me everything!!”
I was nervous, speechless and kind of happy.

“He was mad!” was the first thing Joseph said after a long moment of silence “He told me that Ethan showed him your notebook and he saw the drawings and the hearts and stuff” He took a sip from his mango juice. “His face turned to bloody-red and he started shouting at me, like I’m the one who wrote them.”
“Wait,” I interrupted. My brain was processing and trying to think about this mess and thinking about the best subject to ask about, talk about Ethan’s reaction or talk about the teacher— all at the same time. “So, what did you say?” I chose the teacher.

“I said that I don’t have an idea about it,” he said
“And?” I looked at him with big questionable eyes “God damn it, Jay, just tell me the whole thing,” I shouted.
“Fine! He was shouting and his face was red and nearly going to explode. I was standing next to his table,” Joseph said.
‘“I don’t know sir, I have no idea.”
“Don’t lie Joseph! I know that you know; Ethan told me everything and showed me everything.”’

“That a-hole!!” I said while eating my salt and vinegar potato chips.
“I know, right?” Jay said.
“Okay continue.” I said.

“Then he got up and locked the door and shouted literally: ‘tell Sam that I’m not a kid, and these things are not for me. I don’t want to deal with him and I won’t tell the principle or his parents, but please, I don’t want any troubles for him and he is young for these things.’”
“OH-MY-GOD! Are you serious?” I asked surprisingly
“Mm hm.” Jay responded while drinking his mango juice.

I wanted to hit Ethan. I thought about closed-fist punch and then my mind drifted to a swift kick in the neck.
“That’s it.” I said, moving from my spot searching for him.
You know or remember, sometimes when someone was mean to you, it means he likes you: Ethan was like that.
As much as he liked me, he was rude, mean and unbearable.
I found him sitting with his stupid gang eating ice cream.
“HEY—YOU!!” I bellowed.
He turned to my side and with a little toothy grin on his face.
“What the hell were you thinking? Do you think it’s funny?”
“No, but I was trying to help” he said.
“Oh, yeah? Well let me help you then,” I said and slapped him in front of his friends who laughed hard and stormed out of the battle field.

I pretended I didn’t notice his death-stare. I was successful in faking disinterest until he took the almost-empty ice cream tub and forced it over my head. “Noooooo, stop it!” I screamed, kicking him while my head was getting coated in vanilla-chocolate swirl. He was spinning the tub around my head and I was getting ice cream leftovers in my mouth, eyes and nose. It was horrible and crazy.
I felt myself starting to hyperventilate.
I couldn’t take another minute, I tried to head-butt my way out the other end of the carton, but I couldn’t because he was huge. I had no choice but to find my way between Ethan’s legs and nail him in the balls with my knee.
As Ethan went down, I took off my ice-cream hat, threw it on the floor, and got on top of him like a wrestler, pinning his biceps down with my knees. “Listen, you fatherfucker! You started it, you crazy lunatic bitch! What the hell is the matter with you?”

It was a sad moment for me; he had attacked me like an ice cream ninja in front of his friends and my teacher didn’t like me back. I couldn’t help but feel awful for myself. (I wonder where the principal or the other teachers were.)

“I’m sorry I hit you,” I told him, awkwardly maintaining my position on top of him. (A position, mind you, that I became much more comfortable with later on in life.)
“But what you did is awful! How could you do that?” I said while walking with him to talk more privately.

“I was jealous,” he said. “Well, not was jealous; I’m still jealous.”
“Why?” I said while the ice-cream leftovers still swirling on my forehead. “Don’t talk to me anymore, ‘kay?”

And I went to Joseph who was waiting for me in the back of my class.

“What the hell happened to you!?” he said with a fake worried expression on his face trying to hide his smile.
“I fought with him, and I won!” I smiled.
“You guys are crazy! Now I know why you don’t wanna go out with him.”
“Whatever.” So I went to the toilet and washed my hair and face.

After this mess, Ethan was still a Grade One a-hole with severe attitude problems; every time Mr. James passed by he said things like “Mr. Jee, there’re many people who are in love with you,” and wink at him, but my love ignored him.

I tried to apologize more than once to James but he didn’t listen, so I asked Joseph to take his number from his mom, (she used to call him and ask him about Jay’s grades and stuff) so he did it. I called and he didn’t pick up, so I texted him :

‘Hello, this is Sam from school. I’m sorry about what happened, and I tried to tell you this but you just ignored me. I’m extremely sorry and I hope that you’ll forgive me and be okay with me again. I don’t know why Ethan did this but I don’t care, please. Sorry if I interrupted you.’

I tried my best to say it in a mysterious way because I thought that his wife might read it, and I didn’t want to cause him any trouble. The next day I said hi, he said hi back with a smile. It was the best morning ever and I felt great.
I stopped talking about me loving him, but (Shh!) I never stopped loving him to this day.

The Gang Which Started It All!

Few people have had their first sexual encounter voluntarily, that too with more than one person in the room. Normal people date first, have fancy dinners, walk by the beach, talk, listen to music, watch movies— and then they have sex.

After the “incident” (if you don’t know what I’m talking about shut the damn book and flush it down the toilet) I became promiscuous, and not with a whole lot of winners, because I’ve always said: my vices are junk food, chocolate and bad men.
I screwed a million really, gross, older, sleazy guys. Is a million a lot?
I’m surprised I’m alive. Particularly since I’m telling you all about it.

Recovering after my “doctor-patient” game, I stopped talking to the T.F.M.N.P. (The Frequently Molesting Neighborhood Pedophiles)
Okay, okay, I didn’t stop talking to them, but I was more careful, and continued my studies and everything was okay and stuff.
Found out that I have not one but two sisters from my dad’s past marriage (he brought them to visit us). Hated them since then. Natural response. Couldn’t help it, sorry.

Eleven was the age when I became seriously sexually active; it was at night, me walking with my neighbor friend in the neighborhood and guess what? It’s caper, the raper!
He came to me and told me that he wants to talk to me about something.
For a moment I remembered our past together and I really don’t know why…!
He took me to one side, a bit far from my friend, where his friends were standing and told me that he wants to “play” with me one more time with his friends— not one, but five!
I was shocked, was like “…okay? But you only? I don’t want your friends to come…”
He said “Fine, they’ll stay outside.”
So I went inside his place and the first thought that cropped up in my head was “I wonder where the hell are his parents?!! Every single time this happens and they’re not around!”
His name was Ali, he was Sixteen or Seventeen at that time. I liked him very much and I trusted him more than the other one (who four years later had a car accident led him into the hospital for more than a month and his back hurts so bad— karma I guess. More on that later.)
Ali’s parents had lots of troubles; you could hear them shouting while you’re walking by their house. I remember that his mom was pretty much crazy and I always wondered why the hell that hot man (Ali’s dad) married her!
I remember her sitting on her plastic chair, her skin was o-kay, tanned, her hair was straight, brown with dark roots, thin eyebrows (just like Kristen Stewart’s in that twilight movie), wearing a hot pink top with dark blue jeans drinking water directly from the bottle (And every time a man passed by she rubbed her pikachu, which made me wonder whether she was having a sexless life?)
Back to my story, and not her dry !@#$s’; I went inside his room. He sat next to me—shirtless I may add— and started kissing my cheeks and my neck. We got naked and he started rimming me (my first rimming experience. Go figure.)

You might think that I looked like a regular eleven-year-old kid, ladies and gays (straight guys probably won’t read this book, too much drama), but I looked much older, so if you’re imagining that moment (which I hope you aren’t you sicko) don’t imagine a young hairless fresh piece of meat, picture something a bit older like Nick Canon with his pubes and teenage angst issues.

Ali was adorable; tanned, sleepy eyes, strong body, and um, drum roll… A thick, clean, juicy big schlong (Don’t pretend you wouldn’t have felt attracted to him. He was the very definition of hot to these eyes at that time).
I enjoyed every moment of it, sucking that piece of meat (I was bad at blowing back then, I wonder if he liked it. Inexperience sucks.)

Then, guess what? What, you can’t? I’ll just bet you can.

His friends came in, all four teenagers, and what’s more two of them were twins. I was horrified, scared and ashamed of myself. They looked at me with a huge lusty grin on their faces.
I stared at Ali who couldn’t make eye contact for a minute, then he looked me with a “sorry” look on his pretty face. I stood up, half naked (covering my hot body with the bed sheet— and I’m not talking about temperature here) and said “What do you guys want?”
One of the twins said “We want you,” while the others laughed.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you’re going to let them in?” I accused Ali.
“They threatened me and told me that they’re going to tell my dad that I’m smoking,” he said.

He let them inside just because they told him that they’re going to tell his dad that he’s smoking— WHAT A PUSSY!!

I couldn’t move an inch, looking at them and they looked back. The grin was gone by now; they locked the door and turned off the lights.
Imagine this with me for a minute: if someone else was in my shoes, the first thing he would do is tell his parents and let them deal with that mess. I just didn’t want to.
Okay, now you’re thinking that I am sick and need a shrink, but I was scared too and telling my parents about this mess would kill them and make them feel bad about their parenting skills. They raised me well and I just didn’t want to make them feel awful.
Above that, my dad will think that I let this happen. Yes, I could’ve screamed my lungs out to make them stop, but still I was afraid that they’ll hit me or kill me –Remember, my body looked old, but my mind was still innocent, well as innocent as possible in such circumstances– so I kept my mouth shut about it.

The sex was okay for a first time thing, (had worse later) and thank god that it didn’t hurt me. After we finished, I went home, took a shower, had dinner, watched TV and acted like nothing happened.

Why not look on the bright side? I had just spent my very first anal sex evening with five hot teenagers, including twins (Who gets that, even when they’re practically begging for it?!)
This thing taught me lots of stuff later in my life like: if you have been gang banged and the next day you heard all the kids asking you about it, just deny it as much as possible, go to the gang who banged you act cool and say “Suck it.” then ignore them to the rest of your life and Don’t trust a guy that tells you in front of his friends that he’s going to be the only one who’ll fuck you, ‘cause if you did, you better buy a whole month’s supply of lubricants and ready your backyard for a rough ploughing session.

Child's Play..?

Being the middle child is not something to be proud of. I suffered from the middle child syndrome. Being between an older brother and a younger sister made me feel insecure about myself; the older one is the best in everything and my sister is spoiled because she is the only girl in the family. Maybe that’s why I needed some attention. I was always the one who brings the trouble.

One time, I was not feeling well when my brother was working on the computer, he turned to me and was staring while I was eating a chocolate bar.
“What are you looking at?” I said.
“I saw everything.” he said to me, with a pirate look on his face.

Shit. I had worried something like this was going to happen. The night before, I was chatting with a guy on the internet, I met him online from a dating website and was downloading porno “gay porno”, my brother was away and nobody was interested in being with me while using the internet. He was asking me if I’m interested in phone sex, I said yes, and gave him my number. He called me, and we started talking.

“What are you wearing naughty boy?” he said
“Why’s that question?” I said, acting naive
“Okay, take your clothes off, I wanna see your hot bum.” he whispered.

So, the conversation was like that and it ended up well and I immediately slept after that.

“Everything? What do you mean?” I asked my brother innocently.
“The chat log and the movies.” he said.
“You’ve got to be kidding me! What movies?” I continued. “I don’t want to deal with this shit, I’m going to buy some candy.”

I was so afraid, didn’t know what to do; because I knew that my effing old brother is going to tell my parents about it. So I turned off my phone and hid somewhere. After 45 minutes I was thinking,
“It’s better for me just to go home and get it over with.”
Switching the tactics, I remembered that it was the series finale of “desperate housewives” and I would miss it if I stayed outside. That would have been enough to drive any gay, level-headed twelve-year-old insane.
Even so, I was ready to stay outside as long as it took my brother or my parents if he told them to forget about what happened. I had phone sex and downloaded gay porno movies and chatted with strangers in the same night. I didn’t think that I would be able to look them in the eye anytime soon.

My parents are great and I love them; Dad is the most laid back person ever— if I told him that I’m going to the North Pole or to the Himalayas, he will say “Have fun and take care!”
Mom on the other hand is kind of rigid. I really like her personality, she’s a very strong woman and I respect her for that.
She and my Dad went through lots of problems, and they really hated each other at some point, because my dad had an affair with another woman.

We were kids and my sister still wasn’t born yet— Mom kicked him out of the house and they didn’t talk for like, months and months. (She forgave him but never forgot what he did, will talk about my family later)

I turned on my phone, mom already texted me and told me to come home as soon as possible; she called when the message got delivered and told me to come home NOW!
I went back home and I really didn’t know what the hell I was thinking, I said “hi?”
She smacked me on the face and told me to go to my room and she’ll come in a minute. I didn’t cry, but I was angry; because my brother told her and didn’t tell my dad instead, (he won’t slap me or hit me, he actually never hit anybody.) He always said that beating your child won’t help them to be better people.

After a long talk with my mom, telling her that I’m sorry and didn’t mean to hurt her feelings and I’m not “gay” and I was just curious.
She finally calmed down and told me that she doesn’t want to hear anyone talking about me in a bad way.
“Don’t let me be disappointed in you,” she said. “You’re my favorite.”
At that moment, I knew that mom never treated me like my older brother, maybe because she knew that I’m better than him and he is not me. She treated me differently, sometimes I feel like she loves him more. But I know that deep in her heart, she didn’t mean that.

One of my friends asked me when I had started to like guys. I never knew to be honest, but I know that it all started when I was six or seven years old.
In that age, as you all might know (and maybe even remember) every kid is curious and wants to try and see something new.
As Denise Richards would say, “It’s complicated.”

So here’s the beginning: We used to live in a small, quiet town, where everyday is like the one before. It was a new town back then, so there were many people who started a family there. Like any kid, me playing with the other kids out there and acting naive, I remember that I really hated a bunch of guys who were sitting in front of one of their number’s place. Checking out the kids and the girls; well they were just jerks and that’s all I can say about them. Publicly.

Anyway, one of them used to talk to me and one time he asked me if I wanna come inside and play with him and his friend. I accepted (duh) and went inside his place. They didn’t hit me or call me names, in fact they were sweet and lovely (which now that I think back, I feel like an idiot for not noticing as odd.)

My memories of them are perhaps the most difficult part of writing this book. My recollection of them just doesn’t line up with those of family and neighbors. What follows is my version of my relationship with them, and I’ve decided to get it out in the open for the first time.
There was an extremely inappropriate sexual energy that came from them; I was seven years old when that happened, and for everyone who thinks that what they did is horrible, yes it was, but still, I liked it.
I read lots of books about how horrible being molested is, but I never read about how fun it can be, especially with two kind men like them.
Well they weren’t men. They were teenagers with huge penises… but at that time, that’s what they seemed to my immature eyes— kind and sweet Adonises.

They fooled me and asked me if I wanted to play “the doctor-patient” game.
I accepted and got into the bed. One of them started kissing me everywhere and to softly say to me things like “You’re so pretty” and “You’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.”
The other one was dry humping me. I didn’t feel comfortable about it and wanted to leave but they said that they were not finished yet and it was just part of the game, so I stayed and they continued what they were doing.
One of them got naked and started hugging me from behind. If you saw this, if you’d been in the room, you’d stop it from happening. Thinking about it now, I feel awful and ask myself, “Why didn’t you just bite that penis and run?”
But like I said before, I liked it.

When I got home mom asked me where I had been and I told her that I was at my friend’s and she just believed, maybe because I have great acting skills. Okay, I know that I should’ve talked to someone about it but I just couldn’t.
It’s easy to say “You should have said something” watching from the sidelines, but it’s astronomically different for the one going through it all.
Anyhow, they “played” with me again and again, but it wasn’t anal; it was just “touchy touchy.”


Those guys introduced me to a new world that I truly hated and liked at the same time, introduced me to penises that made me wonder what I can do with them. I was a kid and being used like that was awful. They molested me a lot (those @#$&ing pedophiles!), and I found out that I wasn’t the only one. There were two other kids as well (who became my new molested friends later.)

The lesson I learned that year was a valuable one; being molested is a bad thing for sure, but if you have the gay gene, then you just might love it.