My Big Fat Gay Life (32 page)

“I’m so confused,” I finally heard him say.

“About what?” I asked him in a soft voice.

“I think I might be gay, and never realised it before,” he said. “I feel so bad! What if I hurt Ruth? I don’t want to hurt Ruth!”

I released my hold as him as he sat up. Then he looked at me with a pleading expression. “Tell me what to do,” he said. “I need help.”

“Why do you suddenly think you’re gay?” I asked him gently.

Justin took a deep breath and proceeded to relate his experience with the cleaning client that had raped him. Anger gripped me, and I became quite rigid. The thought of anyone hurting this gentle soul like that infused me with both terror and rage.

“After I woke up, I realised I’d cum everywhere,” he concluded. He was unable to look me in the eye. “I must have enjoyed it.” He sat there, totally still except for a single tear rolling down his cheek.

I reached out for him again, and he relaxed in my arms. I took a few moments to gather my thoughts.

“I don’t want to belittle or play down your experience at all,” I told him as gently as possible, “because it’s a horrifying and traumatic thing to go through. Unfortunately, it isn’t that uncommon either.

“You are a male victim of rape. However, your reaction is quite normal. Disgust and confusion are the first things that go through a male rape victim’s mind, regardless of whether they were raped by a man or a woman.”

Justin sat up again. Confusion was in his eyes, but he didn’t say anything.

“I don’t know if this will help or not, but what you experienced was purely a physiological reaction. You were unconscious and your body was physically relaxed. With your prostate gland being stimulated like that, your body reacted by ejaculating. It’s normal, and nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Seriously?!” he exclaimed. “Men can cum by being fucked like that?”

“Sure,” I told him. “It’s the male equivalent of a g-spot. Why do you think gay men love being fucked up the arse?”

“That’s why? I thought they did it purely to give pleasure to the guy fucking them.”

“Oh please,” I said, stifling a laugh. “Gay men are way too selfish to be that considerate of their partner’s needs.”

“Wow,” he said, sitting back and letting out a deep breath. “So it must actually feel good then.”

“I guess it does,” I told him. “That’s why Donovan loves it when I fuck him with a strap-on dildo.” I watched his eyes closely, trying to shock a laugh out of him.

“I thought Donovan liked sex with men because he’s bisexual,” Justin observed.

“He does. He is. But he has an appreciation for the male form and the cock that you don’t have; that no straight man has. Donovan loves cock just as much as he loves cunt, which makes it much easier for him to admit he likes having his prostate stimulated.”

Justin didn’t even wince when I said the ‘C’ word. He’s become way too desensitised to my shocking ways;:maybe I should be sweet and demure for a year or so. At least I can still shock Tony.

“But straight men can enjoy having their prostates stimulated?” he asked me.

“Of course,” I replied. “In my professional opinion, straight men who can admit it feels good have the best sex lives. If they can admit they like their woman sticking her fingers up his butt, or can at least admit trying it and not liking it, then they’re much more self aware and emotionally sound than straight guys who are disgusted by the concept.”

“Thank the Universe!” Justin exclaimed. “I’m normal!”

With that outburst, he put his head in my lap and cried. I stroked his hair until his cathartic release had finished. He still had to work all the revelations through in his mind, but he’d be fine.

* * *

“OK I’m ready,” Justin said brightly. I’d convinced him to come back home with me and talk to Ruth, as well as set Donovan’s mind at ease. He’d showered and shaved, and was dressed in a pair of tiny little tight shorts and a tight tank top.

We hailed a taxi and gave the driver my address. Justin appeared relaxed, almost happy.

“So Sebastian enjoys anal sex for the pleasure of it too?” he asked me out of the blue.

“Hell no,” I replied, laughing. “Sebastian is way too repressed to enjoy receiving anal sex. He’s purely a top, unfortunately. He can’t relax enough to enjoy being fucked. He can’t let go - too much of a control freak. I’m not sure where he gets that from.”

Justin laughed, and it was music to my ears - especially after seeing him in the state he was a couple of hours earlier.

“I have a much greater understanding of gay men and anal sex now,” he observed. “I knew intellectually that being gay meant you liked having sex with the same gender, but I never bothered finding out details. I figured the details were out of my realm, being a straight guy. I didn’t realise that straight men and gay men can have similar interests sexually.”

“You’ve taken a big step today,” I told him. “Opening yourself up to your true sexual nature and releasing the limits you impose on yourself as a sexual being is huge. Take it slowly.”

“Thank you,” he said to me, his eyes staring intently into mine. It was the most heartfelt, yet simple, display of gratitude I’d ever seen. “I hope Ruth understands. I hope she forgives me for being such a grumpy bastard for the last few months.”

“I’m sure she will,” I said.

We arrived at my house, and within seconds of entering the front door Justin’s clothes melted off him.

“Oh that feels good!” he said. Then he turned to look at me with a slightly more serious expression on his face. “I feel kind of silly: I should’ve talked to you months ago. Is it OK to talk to you if any problems or concerns crop up in the future?”

“Of course you can! Anytime!” I hugged him and briefly groped his bare butt, making him smile. “You’re feeling good now because of the endorphins released after your huge emotional release, but you’ll come down again. It’s normal, so don’t worry when it happens. Just keep the lines of communication open between yourself and Ruth, and of course I’m here for you as well.”

We walked into Donovan’s room, and Ruth looked up. She squealed and ran to Justin, and they hugged and kissed passionately. I walked over to Donovan and kissed him on the cheek.

“He’ll be fine,” I whispered in Donovan’s ear. “He just didn’t realise that having your prostate tickled could be pleasurable, even if you’re straight.”

Ruth released Justin, and he strode over to Donovan’s bed. He sat down and leant in to hug Donovan, then placed a kiss on Donovan’s forehead. “I love you, old man,” he said softly. Donovan blinked once, and a tear welled up in his eye.

“Why don’t you two go outside and talk in the sunshine,” I suggested to Ruth and Justin. They nodded, took each other’s hand, and started walking out of the room. Just then, Anna came into the room with a tray of snacks. She scanned Justin’s body and dropped the tray, her mouth hanging open with shock. Mini sandwiches flew in all directions.

Through the window, I watched Ruth and the naked Justin strolling hand in hand in the back garden. My neighbours will be gossiping tonight!

I sat next to the hospital bed in which Matt lay. His eyes were closed, and he looked peaceful. The wound on his head had almost healed, but he hadn’t woken up once in the last two weeks. The EEG revealed minimal brain activity, and the doctors weren’t sure when, or even if, he would wake up. He was in a coma.

“You’re a lucky man,” I told him. “Very lucky that Patricia didn’t just leave you there to die. She can be ferocious and ruthless when her loved ones are hurt or threatened.”

After Matt’s accident, Kento had phoned Patricia instantly.

“He’s dead!” Kento had exclaimed. Patricia had rushed over immediately and, to her surprise, she’d found that Matt was still alive, but unconscious and bleeding profusely from a head wound.

“Get out of here,” she’d told Kento. “I’ll take care of this.”

Patricia had rung an ambulance and gone to the hospital with Matt. She’d answered the questions asked by the Police as though she were the one that had been with him when he had the accident. Satisfied that there were no suspicious circumstances, the Police had left.

If Matt ever wakes up, he’ll never walk again. He’d suffered spinal trauma during the fall, along with a skull fracture and a severe concussion. The doctors were uncertain as to whether he’d be a paraplegic or a quadriplegic, but either way he’d never walk again.

I’d stayed at Patricia’s for a few days after the accident, helping prepare for Donovan’s return home. Patricia had organised for my apartment to be cleaned, and when I’d finally returned home I just stood and stared at the bare floorboards where there had once been a rug.

Patricia and Ruth visited me daily. I could see the unasked questions in their eyes: some were questions of concern, others felt like accusations. How could you let him do this to you? Are you OK? To their credit, they left the questions unasked and the accusations unstated, and instead busied themselves preparing meals for me and satisfying themselves that I was rallying back to a point of strength.

Today was the first day I’d felt strong enough to see Matt. I stood and paced around the dreary, uninspired hospital room.

“I hate you,” I spat venomously at Matt. “I also love you. But it’s not a healthy love. It’s a love born of fear and dread, almost a Stockholm Syndrome form of love. People think that love and hate are opposites, but they aren’t. They’re actually very closely related, and it only takes a mere instant to waver from one to the other. The opposite of love and hate is actually complete indifference.

“I guess your will is stronger than mine. I was trying to shape you into something that I wanted, but instead you shaped me into what you desired.

“They want to know how this happened,” I said to the unconscious form on the bed. “If I’m honest with myself, I should be asking myself that as well.”

“How did I go from being a strong, wilful person into a blubbering piece of jelly so quickly? Patricia’s theory is that I wanted to help you: wanted to make you better. Maybe there’s some merit to that. Maybe I wanted to help you so badly that I would tolerate anything. I had this fairy tale that we would end up together in a fair and equitable loving relationship, which would make the journey to that ending worth it.”

I walked to the foot of his bed and stared at the pale face.

“Kento’s theory is that I didn’t want you to break up with me. However much I want to deny it, that one rings true with me. At first, when it looked like you weren’t happy with me and were going to break up with me, I was desperate to make you love me. I had to be the one doing the breaking up. I always do the breaking up! Kento is right. I put up with your shit so I could break up with you, and then I didn’t have the strength to break up. Routines were established, and I couldn’t budge myself out of them.

“I also think there’s an element of guilt in my actions. I wanted to be hurt. I wanted to suffer. I brought Bruce into the life of the man I loved, Quentin, and he died. Brutally murdered. The guilt still eats me up inside.”

I strode to the door and opened it, but hesitated as I walked through. I looked back at Matt.

“I think Kento is most correct - I have to give him credit for that. Now I’m ready. Consider this a break-up. I never want to see you again. Thanks for listening. It really helped!”

I left the hospital room, closing the door behind me.

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