My Shame

In college, I noticed a cute guy down the hall was often looking at me during floor meetings or in the cafeteria.  He had recently broken up with his girlfriend because he wanted a boat.  Although I never said anything to him, I gave him the opportunity to talk to me.  I even sat out on a bench outside the dorm for three hours.  He just walked by.  I was angry that he would look at me but not say anything.  Looking back, I should have been the one to speak.  My only excuse is that it was a different time.

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Eighteen and on my own describes my first year in college. That had not been my plan. Fortunately for me, I’d received a scholarship, and my first was already paid for. Each year was contingent on the success of the previous year. I knew that I would need to work diligently to keep those grades up.  

On the day I left home for the university, I had the misfortune of being caught with my gay porn as I tried to move it from it’s hiding place and into my luggage. My mother collapsed into a heap of sobs when she caught me red-handed with the two magazines I’d been able to hide for the prior two years. My dad ran into the room to check on her and went ballistic. The slap he gave me across my head still stings months later. In an instant, I went from being loved and adored to being an anathema. I’d been a quiet, obedient son, a great student, and a doormat to just about everyone I knew. Now, I was a piece of shit faggot, a queer that should have been aborted. He even told me that had he known I’d turn out this way, he would have taken a hammer to my head the day I came home from the hospital.

The seed of anger was planted in me that day, and it grew into a monster.

Although I spent the entire drive with my teeth clenched, I decided that I needed to keep everyone fooled. I put on my happy-go-lucky smile before I got out of the car, and I kept it there through orientation and into the start of the semester. In the shower and alone in my dorm room were the only places that I let my true feelings show. Seething anger and hatred boiled within my heart.

The only time those feelings seemed to let up were the times I was with my roommate Steve. He was a handsome guy from a small town, and when we were alone, he treated me like a good friend. He was nice and polite, and amicable, too. I liked him. Actually, I was attracted to him as well.

But there was a problem. He already had a gang of friends by the end of the first week. Some of them were also from his town, but many just seemed to flock to him. They tried to outdo one another with their talk of conquests. Female knees that spread wide for their huge throbbing cocks were the topic of almost every story. Steve would laugh at the stories and the homophobic slurs that were thrown about. While he never uttered any derogatory comments, he seemed to find them as humorous as did his friends. I tried to ignore it, and I hoped he would request another roommate for the spring semester. I knew I couldn’t stand another semester lusting over someone who ridiculed gay men.

I tried to decide whether I should come out. It made me even angrier to think that I had to decide. The straights didn’t have to decide. I still couldn’t tell whether a guy was being friendly or flirty. I wasn’t ready to attend the gay parties that were announced with pretty paper on the bulletin boards. When I saw a gay couple enjoying their time together, the anger within me increased. Why did they deserve to be happy when I was miserable? My indecision just increased my pent-up anger.

Looking back, many things seemed to set off my anger; some are more distinct in my memory. One incident, in particular, brought the anger to the surface. On the Friday night before Thanksgiving break, I was working with my lab partner on a project for biology class. We were getting close to finishing when he looked at me the way you look at your favorite dessert.

“You’re a good looking guy,” he said. “Do you play around much?”

I was taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, do you fool around? You know, with other guys?”

My heart started to beat a little faster. Was this guy about to ask me out? Was he going to ask me to have sex with him? I wanted to answer yes to either question. He was an attractive guy and very smart. I was attracted to him sexually, not intellectually, the way I was with Steve. I had not tried to get personal with him because we were lab partners, and I didn’t want things to get awkward. I tried to think of the best answer.

“I haven’t.” I paused. Should I say more? I decided that he was showing interest, so I added, “Not yet, anyway.”

He smiled. “I was wondering because I am horny. Guys are supposed to give better blowjobs, and I thought… well… maybe we could trade blowjobs.”

I tried to remain calm. I forced myself to breathe normally. He was interested in sex with me, maybe not all the way sex. I guess I took too long to say anything.

“I just thought we could help each other out.”

Wait, I thought. That doesn’t sound like he was interested in me. It sounded more like wanting to shoot his load.

He continued, “I promised my girlfriend I wouldn’t fuck any girls while I was here, but I didn’t say anything about fucking a guy. Or getting sucked off.”

My heart dropped. He was only interested in getting his rocks off and being able to look at his girlfriend in the eyes and saying he hadn’t been with any other girl.

“You’re a fucking pig,” I said without thinking. “You want me to suck your cock because you promised not to have sex with another girl. You’re disgusting. Go fuck yourself.”

I stormed out and went back to my room. Anger continued to build within me. I e-mailed the professor that I wasn’t sure about the status of my project because my partner had asked me to perform oral sex on him and I had walked out on him. I was so angry that I’m surprised I didn’t break the keyboard; my fingers were striking the keys with such force that the keyboard moved around on the desk.

I was still seething the next day when I went to breakfast. Steve was hardly making a sound. I wasn’t sure whether he realized I was a powder keg, but I was sure that he’d come in late after drinking with his buddies. I went to breakfast, and I sat in an alcove and ate my scrambled eggs and bacon. I had a knot in my belly. As I looked at the students in the cafeteria, I felt hatred for every one of them. The happier they looked the more I wanted them to die a horrible death. I went back to my dorm room.

The first thing I saw was Steve sitting at my computer completely naked. One of my downloaded porn videos was playing on my computer. He was rubbing himself. He turned and looked at me.

“Shit, I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.”

“What the fucking hell are you doing?” I growled. I closed the door and locked it.

“Sorry, bro. I was just beating off. This one’s my favorite. I wasn’t going to tell anyone that you’re queer. Really.”

He wasn’t going to tell anyone that I’m gay?

I think I walked across the room in three steps and grabbed Steve’s arm and pulled him to his feet. “Beating off while two guys fuck each other isn’t gay?” With my other hand, I grabbed his head and kissed him hard. He didn’t say anything. “What’s that do for you?” I know what it did for me. My dick grew instantly hard. I’d wanted to do that since I first met him.

He had started to breathe more rapidly. He grabbed my head and kissed me harder than I had just kissed him. He stared into my eyes. “I guess you’re gonna have to fuck me now.”

That just pissed me off. I felt the rage explode within me. How could he have pretended to be straight while all the time watching and getting off to gay porn? Hanging out with those guys who made fun of guys like me, guys like him.

I twisted him around and pushed him face-first on his bed. I climbed on top of him and saw the bottle of lube he had next to my laptop. With his face buried in the pillow, I grabbed an ass cheek and squirted lube all over his ass crack. I thought I heard him say, “I’m sorry, man,” but the sound was muffled.

I used both my hands to pull down my sweatpants and my knees to separate his legs. His hands reached back to spread his ass cheeks, and his hairy asshole stared up at me. I rubbed my dick in the lube, and without a second thought, I pushed my dick against his hole. He tensed up, but I kept pushing.

His ass was tight, but I didn’t let up. Once the head of my cock was in him, I thrust. I could sense high-pitched moans coming from him and my dick slid in. My mind was filled with the blindness of anger. I fucked him, and I fucked him hard. At some point he stopped moving; my mind seemed to go blank. His body stiffened, and he seemed to relax. It was at that point that I came. I pushed my dick deep inside him and unloaded. As I released my load, I released my anger. Then my body went limp.

As I stood up, my dick pulled out of his ass. Cum squirted out onto the bed. The realization of what I had just done hit me. It was as if a two-by-four struck me over the head.

Steve rolled over and looked at me. His eyes were puffy. The sheets were soaked with his cum, my cum, and his sweat. His eyes grew misty.

What had I done? I had just used the only man I knew that I had feelings for, the only man who had been shown me any kindness. How wretched had I become?

I knelt next to him and pulled him to me. I began to sob. I tried to find the words to explain myself, but there were none. How could I have done that to him? How he must hate me.

His arms reached up and grabbed me. He pulled me closer and spoke hoarsely. “Oh, Lucas. I’ve wanted to know what it was like for so long. I wanted to tell you; from the first day I met you, I wanted to tell you about these feelings, but I was so …” He looked into my eyes the way I had fantasized that he might.

“No. Wait.” I was confused. “What’s happening?” I pushed him away. “I just hurt you. I mean I just fucked you without your permission.” I swallowed hard. “I just raped you.”

Steve shook his head. “Lucas, that’s not what happened.”

“Yes, it is. I came in, grabbed you, pushed you down on the bed, and stuck my dick into your ass. I was just so angry about everything and everyone. I took it out on you. I’ve wanted you to want me the way I wanted you.”

“I did want you; I still do,” he told me. Steve sat back on the bed; he put his hands on his knees.

“And I’ve wanted you since the first day I met you, but all you and your friends talked about was fucking girls and beating up gay guys.”

Steve clasped his hands together and moved them to his chest. “Fuck!” he growled. “I’ve screwed this up, didn’t I?”

“Hell, no. I’m the one who’s at fault here. It doesn’t matter that we were both too chicken shit to admit we’re gay and attracted to each other.”

“What do you mean?” I sensed a tone of anger in his voice. “I’m not chicken shit, maybe just a little cautious. And I’m certainly not gay. I mean, I fucked a girl, and I liked it.”

“But did you like her?” I asked. He looked down at his hands.

“I hate to disagree because you’re a math major, and I know you’re smarter than I am. But, you are totally chicken-shit, and it sounds like there’s some denial there as well.”

He bit his lower lip and nodded. “About being gay?”

“You tell me. Look at what’s still playing on my laptop.”

“OK, so I get a thrill from watching two guys. And…” He paused. “I …”

“Come on. It’s Honesty Time. There’s no reason to hold anything back now.”

Nodding, Steve continued. “I used to come in late and find you asleep in bed, and I’d go over and kiss you goodnight. Then I’d go back to my bed and imagine that I was asleep and you came over and fucked me.”

“You’d imagine that I fucked you while you were sleeping?”

“Yeah,” Steve replied.

“Well, I’m not going to make any judgment calls, but that sounds pretty gay to me.”

“OK. I admit it. I am gay, but I’m not sure that I want everyone to know. And while I’m at it, I’m going to admit that my feelings for you go deeper than just being attracted to you.”

“Well, that doesn’t excuse what I did.”

Steve leaned forward and held each of my ears in his hands. “The thing is, I wanted sex with you. I don’t think you would have had sex with me if I hadn’t been willing.”

Could he have been right, I wondered. It still seemed all wrong to me, and I was filled with such shame for losing control.

“If I had said, ‘Don’t’ or ‘Stop’ when you first pulled me up from that chair, I think you would have stopped. I was excited when you kissed me, and I wanted you to fuck me. And when you flipped me onto the bed, I knew it was going to be rough, and I wanted it. I think that my body language would have been different if I hadn’t wanted to, and you would have stopped, regardless of how angry you were.”

“I want to believe you, Steve, but I feel so ashamed. I feel that I lost control.”

Steve bit his lower lip. “Maybe we should discuss that with a therapist. I picked up a card the other day. I’ve been wanting to tell you how I felt, and I was beginning to hate myself for not having the balls to tell you. The sessions are free for students. It’s run by the graduate department. I’d like today to be the start of something for us. Would you be willing to go with me?”

I thought for a moment. Steve had never done or said anything to hurt me. I did like him; I was attracted to him; I wanted him. He was a guy that was worth fighting for. “I like the idea of seeing a therapist. I’ve got some issues to deal with. We both have some issues about being..”

“Chicken-shit?”

“Yeah. That. And I know you’re a great guy. I think that being with you is worth it.”

Steve teared up again. “I never thought I’d hear anyone say that about me. I think you’re a great guy, too. I don’t think you realize how great, but that’s ok. I’ll keep reminding you.” His smile brought a calmness to my heart. “Let’s go get showered off. It’ll be like starting the day over.”

I stood up and helped him to his feet. He winced from the dry cum on his belly. “It feels like it’s ripping out all my hair.

I rubbed my hand across his chest. “That’s ok. You’ve got plenty up here, sexy man.”

“Until now, I’ve only been called ‘young man;’ no one’s ever called me a man before. I feel like one now that I’ve been honest with you.”

I went to my closet and took down my spare robe. “This is for you after the shower. I don’t want anyone gawking at my man.” I got my plastic carryall with my shower supplies and my after shower robe. Steve pulled a dirty pair of sweatpants from his laundry and slipped them on. He grabbed his body wash bottle, and we headed toward the showers.

My favorite shower was the first one, and it was empty. I headed for it. I put my things on the bench and pulled the outer curtain closed. I leaned in and turned the water on, and I was surprised when Steve slipped in behind me and put his body wash next to my stuff. He put his fingers to his closed lips and stepped into the shower. I got in and looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“Someone needs to scrub your back,” he whispered. “And someone needs to make sure my ass is sparkling clean.”

I pushed him into the corner of the shower and kissed him. I kissed him the way I had wanted to kiss him since that first week in August. I kissed him the way I saw the guys kiss in the porn videos--the romantic ones that made me feel lonely after I had watched them. And he kissed me back. His tongue flicked across my lips, then rubbed along my front teeth before probing deeper to dance with my tongue.

The water spraying the back of my head and shoulders became hotter as did our kissing. When I paused for air, Steve got the soap and lathered my back and ass crack. He spent extra time making sure my sphincter was clean, and then he kissed it. When he ran his tongue around the outer rim, I moaned out loud. We both froze, hoping no one had heard above the sound of the shower.

Steve slowly stood up and kissed each shoulder blade. I heard him whisper, “I should wait until we’re in the room to do that other thing.” I smile, kissed him, and began lathering his hair. He had great hair.

Coordinating our escape from the shower without letting the whole floor know that we’d been there together was fairly easy. The shower room was empty, and we got back to the room unseen.

Steve took a look at his bed and said, “I need to change the sheets.”

“I’ll help you. I’ll strip the bed.” I threw the pillow and the blanket on my bed and pulled the sheets from the mattress. Steve unfolded the fresh sheets, and we had the bed looking perfect in no time. It was then that I realized I had been an asshole to Steve for months. “You always wash my sheets when you wash yours, and I’ve never really thanked you for it.”

“Of course you have. You’ve thanked me every time.”

“Then, I don’t think I truly appreciated it.”

“It’s OK. It’s a small thing. I did it because I like you. I know you don’t have extra cash, and throwing your stuff in with mine isn’t a hardship.”

“Have you washed my other clothes, too? I always have more clean underwear than I think I should.”

“As I said, it’s no big deal.”

“But it is,” I told him. “It shows how much you care about me. I haven’t done anything for you.”

“It’s not about expecting anything back.” Steve sat down next to me. “Besides, you’re always here when I get back. It gives me a sense of security knowing that you won’t disappear for days. And that very first day, when you said if I needed anything from your side, I should feel free to take it, well, that meant a lot to me as well. I knew I could count on you; I’m glad I never had to.”

“I guess I never had to deal with that,” I said.

“Once, when I had just started driving, the car broke down. I called my parents; they weren’t home. My mother told me, and I quote, ‘then fucking walk home.’ It took me over five hours to get home. They didn’t give a shit.  

Steve continued. “My dad told me the story of how he met my mom. They were both drinking after a football game, and that’s when I was conceived. He told me to either wear a condom or jerk off by myself. Fucking a tight wet pussy is not worth having your life ruined by having a kid.” Steve looked up at me with huge tears forming in his eyes. “He was talking about me. He said having me ruined his life.”

I held him close to me and kissed him. “I’m glad he had you. You make the world a better place.” I pulled my robe off and tossed it on his bed. I pulled his robe off as well. I maneuvered under him with his body between my legs. I kissed him over and over. As I thought about how much he cared about me, as he had demonstrated through the things he had done, I realized how self-centered I was. I was blinded by my anger. I only saw him as a handsome man. In reality, he was so much more. “I need you inside me.”

He seemed surprised. “But Lucas, guys have roles in relationships. I’m a receiver.”

“Men who love each other give and take in relationships according to their needs. I need you inside me.” I pointed to his bottle of lube; it was above my head. “Steve, get your cock wet.” I lubed my hole with my saliva while he spread his lube from the bottle on his dick. I reached up and placed the head of his cock against me. “I love you, Steve.” I pulled the head of his dick into me. It hurt like hell.

“It’s so tight, Lucas.”

I wrapped my legs around him, and with my hands on his ass, I pulled him inside me. I gasped for air and with clenched teeth, I hollered, “Yes!”

Steve’s eyes rolled back into his head. “Oh, that… feels… so good.” He took a deep breath.

“I love you, Steven.”

He bent forward and kissed me. “No one calls me Steven.”

“Fuck me, Steven.” He began pumping me as though he had done it all his life. He adjusted the angle of penetration and the force of his thrusts. It was the perfect union of two men, and when he came inside me, I wanted to keep each drop forever.

Steve laid down on top of me; his dick was still in me. I loved the tightness and pressure of it.

“I didn’t know fucking you would feel that good. I can’t decide whether I liked getting fucked better or not.”

“You won’t have to decide,” I told him. “We can do both.”

He laughed. “You better believe we will. Now, I need to make something clear. No one calls me Steven.”

“But I want to call you something no one else does.”

“Steven is not my name. It’s Steve. That’s what’s on my birth certificate.”

“Well, shit. What’s your middle name?” I demanded.

“That’s not going to work,” he replied. “It’s Eustace.”

I thought for a moment. “Yeah, I can’t imagine saying, ‘Fuck me, Eustace. Fuck me harder.’ Nope. That’s not going to work. I guess I’m going to have to ask for a divorce.”

“Are you asking me to marry you?” He pushed himself up and smiled at me. “I want a hyphenated last name.”

I shook my head. “Steve Eustace Higgensworth-Smith? I think we should just use your last name. Mine’s too hard to spell.”

“Speaking of hard,” Steve said. “What’s this I feel?”

“I told you we were going to take turns.”