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I wanted to be them.
I couldn’t rip my eyes away.
I jetted off to my house, mortified over how much the scene had turned me on.
Throughout that weekend I remained glued to my computer watching porn. Girl on boy, girl on girl, and orgies. The latter fucked with my mind because everything I watched made me hard. Watching men fucking men, a man fucking a woman while another man fucked him. Limbs, mouths, and appendages being touched, rubbed, and sucked.
I wanted all that, but I knew in my gut that having any of it wouldn’t be possible—not with my family. My last resource to confirm I wasn’t gay was to fuck a woman. So I did. And I was relieved to find that I liked it, a lot, but that didn’t erase the fact I reacted to men too.
I experimented for a while, trying to figure things out. After a few months, I did. Bisexual. It was who I was.
Who I am.
I tried to learn more about myself. During that period, I also learned what I was up against because of my sexuality. Bigots, haters, but what hurt the most was my parents.
I rub my face, fighting the tightness inside my chest.
The memories.
It was during the first days of summer between my junior and senior year of high school. Father came home early from work and caught me fooling around in the pool with Lincoln, the boy next door.
Lincoln’s hands hold onto my neck while our tongues wrestle and our bodies clutch each other. My blood heats as my hips grind against his. Our cocks rub together. It’s the first time I allow myself to act on the fantasies.Finally, I’m kissing a boy. It isn’t as sweet as kissing a girl, but it is just as exciting. My balls hurt, and they’re close to exploding.
“Tristan Ferdinand Cooperson.” My father’s loud voice makes my entire body freeze. “Get out of that swimming pool. I don’t know what you two think you’re doing, but it’s wrong. Lincoln, go home!”
“Call me later,” I whisper in his ear. My arms shake as I push myself out of the water. Lincoln follows, grabbing his clothes and scurrying to his house without giving Father or me a second glance.
Father grasps my arm and drags me through the patio toward the house.
“Viviane,” he screams. “Viviane. Where the hell are you?”
She stands at the top of the staircase, watching my father intently.
“Do you know what I just found yoursondoing?” My father slaps me several times, then pushes me toward the staircase.
I lose my footing and stumble with the first step. My mind is spinning trying to find the reason why this is happening. One minute I’m being hauled to the staircase like a petulant boy and the next, the resounding sound of my father’s hand meeting my face cracks through the air.
My eyes water and my vision goes hazy for a moment before I can truly register what just happened.
“Kissing the boy next door—Lincoln. You’re supposed to take care of our children. He’s going to turn out gay, Viviane, and it’ll be all your fault.”
My mother gasps.
Adrenaline runs through my veins. I want to fight back, but I know it would be counterproductive. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. They had never been upset when I fooled around with girls. This should be the same.
Father pulls me by the hair, his face only inches from mine. “My son will never be a faggot. Do you understand?”
“Oh, dear Lord, what are you saying, Ferdinand?” Mother asks, clutching her pearls. “Don’t put ideas in his head. He’s not like that… he’s not. Please, Tristan, tell your father that you’re not a gay.”
My dad’s green eyes become darker, his face an angry red. Pain shoots through my head as his grip tightens. “Homosexuality is an abomination to God! You’re condemning yourself to eternal damnation in hell.” My father raises his voice so I can hear him over my mother’s sobs. “Kissing a man is unnatural, evil.”
“But I-I kiss women too,” I almost stutter.
Wrong thing to say, apparently, because what follows is a punch in the face. “You’re talking like a sinner, not like the man I’m trying to raise.”
“It’s not too late, Ferdinand. He’s a kid,” Mother reminds him. “We can fix him.”
My father releases the grasp on my hair and kicks me one more time. “Pack him a bag. I’ll call the priest. He should know where to send him.” His eyes find mine. They’ve settled into a cold stare. “You have one summer to fix whatever is wrong in your head, or I’ll make your life a living hell until you become a real man.”
