Prologue

            In the silent enclaves of my semi-darkened room, I stripped off my shirt and let it fall to the plush carpeted floor. My twelve year old body was taut, I had used weights to build pecks, thighs, calves, butt, back, and arm muscles. My stomach was so defined you could use it for a washboard. Not one hair stood out on my chest or stomach, it was just tanned to a fine golden bronze shade, which was admired by all who saw it.

            The boy laying on my queen size bed was not as worked as I, but still in fine shape. He was looking up at me, a sly grin on his handsome face. His shirt was missing as well, thrown carelessly on my bedroom floor, forgotten for the moment.  His jeans were undone, the white of his underwear peeking out along with a portion of what made him male. I smiled back at him and crawled over the top of him, trailing my index finger up his chest to gently pry open his mouth.

            In the next moment I brought my firm lips to his and kissed him. The kiss was passionate, our tongues danced in one another's mouths, tasting the flavor we could never truly hide. I could feel the desire course through my veins, his lust for me as he hardened under my lithe body. He broke off the kiss and as I looked into his eyes, I saw passion and a hunger only I could satisfy.

            He slid downward on my bed and stopped at crotch level.  I felt him pull loose the button to my pants and heard my zipper be undone. In the next instant I was inside his mouth and he knew what buttons to push so that I reached my highest heights of sexual ecstasy.  He did this to me until I released and he didn't finish until he had every drop of me swallowed.

            I repeated the procedure to him, throwing in my own variations and techniques. How foolish I was because as I morseled his seed the door to my room flew open and my father, mother, and brother caught me with his juice on my lips and a drizzle of it on my chin. Neither of us did anything except stare at the other for a moment. Then my father took charge. He had my lover thrown out of his house and then he roughly cleaned the semen off my clear, young face. I put my shirt back on and all four of us met at the dining room table to discuss this great shame.

              "Did that boy force you to do that to him?" my father demanded, his voice breaking, betraying the rage he was trying to keep under control.

            "No," I said calmly. "I knew what I was doing."

            "You mean to say you weren't corrupted by that sinful boy?" my mother asked.

            "No, never!" I exclaimed. "I was doing what I felt was right."

            "Are you trying to us that you believe a man and a man can do such an act?" my father inquired, a pious look coming into his eyes.

            I nodded.

            "You're a homosexual?" my mother asked, her hands going for the cross around her neck.

            "I guess so," I replied airily.  "Most people call it gay."

            "Most religious people call it an abomination," my father retorted. "It's a sin against God!"

            I didn't see it that way.  I never did. I believed love in any form was acceptable.  I did not believe, however, the Christian male dominated universe my parents did. I'd had too many experiences to prove otherwise.  

            "I don't believe in your god," I said firmly. I'd told them this many times, how long did it take to reach them?

            "Blasphemy!" my father hissed.

            I just looked at the ceiling.

            "Call the priest," my mother ordered. "We'll need his help with this."

            "You can have your priest pray over me all you want," I told them. "But it won't help me being gay. You're born with it."

            "Heresy!" my father shrugged that off.  "You've given yourself over to the devil!"

            "Whatever," I said. "I know what I'm talking about, I've done the research.  I was born this way.  No prayer from you or a priest is going to change that."

            "Don't speak such evil in my home," my father said and picked up the phone.  "God will make sure you pay for your sins."

            "And your bad karma will catch up with you," I told him in a sad voice.

            He just glared at me and dialed our family's pastor's number.

            It was at that point in my life that I began to believe my family didn't fully love me if the couldn't accept who and what I was. I lost faith in them. It took me years to get it back.