Chapter 1

Journal Entry (College):

I see through a flickering light, faded in time. I see only in this blue light, only in this memory. The figures pass before me, bare shadows in a rumpled room, heavy with the smell of sweat and cigarette smoke. The room is in complete disarray. Bedding thrown back carelessly, clothes strewn on spotted wall-to-wall carpeting…standard issue for college apartments. A dying pothos plant graces the windowsill, looking out on a dark and moonless light. The room’s dim light gives it an appearance of black and white unreality, like something from a movie. Perhaps I can get through this if I pretend I am an actor in a movie, something with a tawdry soundtrack with lots of lewd brass.

Light from a computer monitor illuminates me as I remove my clothing. I do not look at the screen, but know there are thumbnail images there of men in various stages of undress and arousal. Knees crack as I struggle out of my jeans, catching my ankle in the folds, doing an embarrassing little hop-skip as I struggle out of them. Sheepish grin toward the bed, where you lie, waiting. There’s no way to be graceful, no way to be smooth. Not with lust and nerves conspiring to force my heart to beat out a tribal rhythm. I grope through the darkness to the bed to find you there, already naked, the hair on your chest tracing a line down your stomach and farther south. Nameless. The room is cold. You are warm. I have never seen your face and I have seen it a thousand times.

Your hands are ghostly and white as they extend, your face is hidden in shadow. Excitement surges as you pull me toward you. “Come here,” you whisper, your voice husky, a growl. I can smell beer and cigarettes on your breath. I feel that same breath on my face as I move closer, feel your hand on the small of my back, urging me near, forcing me down on top of you. There is a swarm of butterflies in my stomach. A tiny voice in my head causes my heart to pound hard and the blood sings in my ears. The voice, the sensible one, tells me to flee, that this is all wrong, that, as a Catholic boy, what follows will bring insurmountable guilt, depression. I shove that voice deep down inside of me where it’s muffled, its warnings indistinct.

The bed creaks as I allow one knee on the mattress, my body stooped awkwardly as I bring my clean-shaven face down to meet your bearded one. Your mouth seeks mine in the darkness. Tongues duel. Your spit is sour, yet something in me wants more. I suck your tongue, drawing it deep inside me, surrendering. I lean over more, both legs on the bed now and coming down, down, on top of your waiting, supine form. The hair of your chest brushes against mine like bristles, urging me on. For a while, I forget you are a stranger. You become one with all the rest. Corporeal reality…all that exists…warmth…wetness…darkness and the murmuring of your pleasure. I wrap my arms tight around you. Our bodies merge and meld, become one. Your hands flutter down my back, lower, and a finger gently pushes inside, making me gasp, making my cock twitch. The kiss deepens and becomes something rough and devouring. Suddenly, the embrace turns into a wrestling match and you swing your body effortlessly over mine, pushing me down into the dirty sheets, covering my body like a big, hairy blanket. Your hands grasp me roughly, urgently, finding purchase in the small spaces behind my knees. You push my legs back, farther, farther, until it feels almost as if my knees will touch my ears. I look at you, plaintive, as you rise up above me, between my open and spread thighs. Your fingers have moved deeper inside me, first one, then when that’s comfortable, two, three. They are only to be replaced by something thicker and solid, pressing against me, seeking to find a home inside. I close my eyes and bite my lips as you enter with a gasp. The pain rises up and I slow my breathing, trying to quell it. Involuntarily, my hand reaches up to your chest to slow your progress. I whisper, “Wait.” I suck in some air once more, trying to quell the alarming pain down there, waiting for it to ebb. Finally, it does and with a small nod and a whimper, I look up at you, and, for the first time, our eyes truly meet in the darkness. I nod. You push in deeper, breaking through the ring of muscle. I imagine the ring opening, surrendering at last. Once inside, your tempo builds and my hands grasp at your thighs and your ass. The pain is gone. I urge you deeper. Squeaking bed springs reach a crescendo. The grimy white walls of this cheap apartment disappear in the overwhelming breath of my passion. You quicken your tempo, faster, faster, until I can imagine your hips moving in a cartoon blur. You cry out, shutting your eyes tight against the waves of pleasure coursing through you. I feel you shudder and buck.