Reflecting

As a youth, I was always thin and scrawny, not necessarily fragile, but not a jock by any means. As a entered my teens, I began to recognize I was different than the other boys and they began to recognize I was different, too. I did not develop physically when most did, I did not talk about girls as they did, I did not roughhouse, I just was not one of the guys. it was in my early teens when I was taunted and called a faggot, sissy, queer, or fairy.

Interestingly, I began to look forward to the negative attention, as it was also reinforced by an older brother. By my 16th year the boys in the neighborhood and school became more brazen, and maybe I was, too. As some boys physically matured, I couldn’t help stare at their muscles, body hair, facial hair. I was mesmerized and would often masturbate at home thinking about the furtive glances I caught in the school locker room of their naked bodies in the showers.

Some of the boys took notice of my interest. In fact, some of them were the very same that were my worst tormentors. And a few of them would find a way to get me alone, and  before you know it I was giving hand jobs and blow jobs in secluded areas where we would not get caught. It was only 3 or 4, and they were the least likely suspects. Members of the football team, swim team, and one from the baseball team.

I don’t think they knew about each other and I certainly didn’t tell anyone. In public, the tormenting continued, sometimes brutal and one even punched me in the face in front of his friends. And then it never failed, they’d find a way to get me alone and forgot these things were said, or ever happened. They wanted to use me to get off, and I let them, and I believe I even enjoyed that they chose me to get off with.

So that was the beginning of my relationship with verbal abuse, it developed over years, and I quickly learned that in order to experience the pleasure i had to endure the pain. This pattern continued throughout all of my high school years, and it was experienced daily in one way or another.

Fast forward to my first year in college. I was living in a dorm suite with 3 other boys. My suite mate was a hot Italian boy with thick wavy brown hair, stunning brown eyes, and he loved to walk around in his black briefs showing off his well-muscled body, his chest hair and pit hair also in plain sight. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of him. Every morning he’d leave the bathroom door open to let the steam out while he stood by the mirror and shaved, blew dry his hair, etc.

After several weeks of my admiration, of which I thought I was being so careful not to get caught, one morning, our other suite mates had left the room and I was laying in bed waiting for my turn to use the bathroom, and I could see him in the mirror. Our eyes met and he said, “I knew it”. I answered, “knew what?” “I knew you were a queer. I see the way you stare at me every morning. You can’t help it” Tony started laughing and then he turned towards me, unwrapped his towel and said, “faggot, you want some of this?” His cock was surrounded by thick dark hair and it seemed so beautiful nestled there.

I was frozen. I was caught. I was speechless. He continued to walk towards me and stood at the edge of the bed. “Well faggot, now’s your chance. Take it or leave it. If you leave it, I’m never offering again”. Without a word, I slowly rose up and took his shaft in my hand and watched  it thicken and grow, and it seemed magical to me how big his cock inflated. I gulped. “That’s it, suck my cock”, Tony demanded. I opened my mouth and began to suck him. I hadn’t had the experience to deep throat something like that on the first go, but I did well enough to make him come in my mouth.

Over the next several months, it was not uncommon for me to provide Tony with a morning blowjob before class. And then, suddenly, just before Thanksgiving, Tony said, “hey faggot, you want me to fuck you”?

Now, I should pause for just a moment and let you know Tony wasn’t the only guy I was having sex with at the time. I’d found all the campus hook up spots at the library, specific empty buildings with empty classrooms, etc, where the gays and closet gays would go to hook up, and I’d become more comfortable with my role as the submissive bottom in these encounters. Of course, Tony wouldn’t have known that, and I would never tell him.

So…back to the moment of truth, I said, “sure, you can fuck me if you like”. I turned around on all 4’s and presented my ass to Tony. He wasted no time in spitting into my hole and splitting my ass wide open. From what I remember, he didn’t last long, but he left a large load of Italian splooge swimming inside me.

After that morning, Tony was never the same. He ignored my existence. We never spoke. In front of our dorm mates or other people prior to the fuck, he’d treated me nice enough, and before the fucking, when we were alone, I was a “queer, faggot, cocksucker, etc.” and now, whether or not we were with people or not, I was invisible. This lasted until the end of the semester. After the holiday break, and we resumed for second semester, I’d learned that Tony moved into a different dorm. And, he’d told some of the guys the reason why is he didn’t want to share a room with a fag.

For those of you that might have read my stories, you’d also know that I’d go on to marry a man who treated me much worse than Tony, and I’d definitely become attracted to guys that do not speak to me nicely and fuck me silly. Even decades later, I seek the same pattern of enduring the verbal and sometimes physical onslaught, almost craving it when it is absent, in order to experience the sexual experience.

For me, it was a gradual revelation, almost an epiphany, when I realized that my chastity is more of a psychological comfort to me. I do not see it as a loss of something, I see it more as a gain and a symbol of what I need to experience in order to achieve the sexual high that will come afterward. For some, this will make complete sense, and for others, maybe not.