Coda 02 -A to Z

first guy. Guess I just had other shit to worry ’bout. Gettin’ moved ’round from home to home. Different schools all the time. Just when I got used to one, they’d move me again. Never had any friends. Always failed my classes. Just bein’ a foster kid, it was like the teachers decided I was a fuckup, before I had a chance to not be one. Every school, some dickhead jock wanted to prove how tough he was by pickin’ fights with me. I hadn’t learned how to fight yet. Or how to not fight. And I was even smaller then. So I just went where I was s’posed to go and kept my head down. Didn’t really think about guys or chicks, I guess. Not that I remember.
    “Just before I turned sixteen, I got put in a new home. Had a foster brother. Bobby. He was seventeen. We shared a room. One morning I woke up, and I could hear him… jackin’ off, you know? It turned me on, so I rolled over so I could see him. And he looked over and saw me watchin’. And he must have been able to tell that I liked it, ’cause he moved the blanket, so I could see everything. I was so fuckin’ turned on. When he came, I came, too, without even touchin’ myself. So, that night, when we went to bed, he started to do it again, but he said, ‘You do it too’. So we watched each other jack off. And then again the next morning. That night, we started again, but then he came over and got in bed with me. At first we were just sorta holdin’ each other but still doin’ ourselves. And that was pretty hot, but suddenly I felt his hand grab me.” His face had been slowly turning scarlet as he talked, and I could feel him growing hard against my leg. “I think I lasted all of two seconds after he touched me.” He blinked up at me, and closed his eyes, like he was ashamed and couldn’t face me. “It was eleven years ago, and I still remember exactly what it felt like the first time he touched me.”
    “It’s nothing to feel bad about, Ang.”

    He opened his eyes again. “I feel guilty. Still turns me on thinkin’ ’bout it. Feel like it shouldn’t, now I’m with you.”
    I smiled at him. “Don’t be silly. It turns me on thinking about it, and I wasn’t even there.” That seemed to make him feel better. “Did you love him?”
    “No, man. It wasn’t like we were friends or anything. We barely even spoke to each other. Just got each other off.”
    “He was your first?”
“First fuck? No, we never did that. Everything else, though.” “So what happened?”
    “Two weeks after I turned sixteen, his mom caught us. Went total apeshit. Called me a pervert and a freak. Said she was gonna call social services first thing in the mornin’ and have me moved again. I thought, no fuckin’ way am I goin’ to another home. So I packed up my shit and left. Never saw him again.”
    I wondered if I would ever get used to hearing about his past and his matter-of-fact acceptance of things that seemed so painful. I hated the fact that nobody had been there to fight for him. “Ang, I’m so sorry.”
    “No reason to be.” He shrugged and smiled at me a little. “It don’t matter. It was easier for me, actually. I think ’bout how it must have been for Bobby after that. Havin’ to face his mom. I never had to come out to my family or any of that shit. I never had that whole identity crisis some guys have ’bout bein’ queer. It was just me, and I knew what I liked, and that was it, you know?” For a few minutes, he looked like he was lost in thought. Then he looked back up at me. “It doesn’t bother you, hearin’ ’bout Bobby?”
    “No. I suppose if it had happened recently, it might bother me more. But it was a long time ago. I think we both know we weren’t virgins when we met. We both obviously have history with other people.”
    His face clouded up. He moved on top of me, brought himself up so that we were eye to eye. “I can’t hear yours.”

    “Okay.”

    He kissed me, hard, with a ferocity I had never felt in him before. Then he said hoarsely, “You’re mine now.”
    “More than you know, Ang. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.” Before he could worry about whether or not to say it back, I reached down and pressed my hand against his erection. “Tell me what you want, Ang. Anything you want.”
    I saw desire flare up in his eyes, something more primal and possessive than I usually saw in him. He looked into my eyes and said huskily, “Anything?”
    I didn’t hesitate. I knew there was nothing he