Love is Always Write Anthology Volume 7

masturbate.
    "Can I get some alone time with you?" Phillip asked, as he glanced at Matt, unsure of whether or not the douche could hear him. "I mean I know that we've only been dating four weeks. . ."
    "Three weeks." Yerza corrected, softly.
    ". . . And I don't have the right to ask this, but how the hell do you ever masturbate? In private, I mean, because this is the third time this week, he's interrupted us and cock blocked."
    "I know. But I'm not shy. I don't care if he's listening or even watching. When I need to blow, I blow. Regardless." Yerza said as he continued pulling the foreskin up and over the head of his shaft, and then pushing it back down.
    "I can't do that. So, I guess . . . ." Phillip said, feeling around on the floor for his pants and underwear. "I guess, call me when you're alone. And he won't be home for a while." He said as he pulled his pants up and reached for his keys. He stopped by the door and slipped on his shoes.
    "Good night," Matt called from the bedroom.
    As Phillip opened the door, he was nearly run over by two men moving a couch.
    "What the fuck?!?" Yerza exclaimed as he slipped into his boxer briefs, and headed for the door. "Matt, something's up at Juan's place. They're moving out furniture." He shouted as he exited, and Matt jumped out of bed.
    CHAPTER 4: Come Forth, My Son
    Shortly after his parents had shown up unexpectedly and discovered his suicide attempt, Juan was forcibly moved out of his apartment back into his childhood home. And of course because of his father's beliefs he was forced to attend church "to revive his injured relationship with God."
    Juan entered the confessional and knelt as he crossed himself. "Forgive me, father, for I have sinned. It has been two years since my last confession."
    "Begin your confession," the priest said.
    "Are you familiar with Humpty Dumpty, Father?"
    "I beg your pardon," he said.
    "Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall, Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
    All the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put Humpty together again."
    Nothing. Silence from the other side of the confessional.
    "My father is my Humpty Dumpty. He is the one who is broken and then decided to break me." Juan sat silently, and tapped his fingers on the screen dividing them, trying to figure out what he wanted to say and how he wanted to say it. As the tears rolled down his cheeks, he quickly wiped them away.
    "My son, what is it you wish to confess?" The priest prodded, uncomfortably tugging at his collar as the heat on his side of the confessional reached intolerable.
    "At the age of 14, my father sat me down and asked me which girls I had a crush on. In my memory, I listed half the girls in my class, while my father sat across from me scribbling down names. The next day, he contacted the parents of every one of those girls, and while I only heard rumors of what was said, he had begged every one of those girls to go on a date with me, and try to prove that I was not a . . . homosexual.
    "Every girl had said no. Why had they said no? Because in home economics class I had sewn better, or cooked better, or something better, and they were jealous. Jealous because most girls were afraid at the age of 14, that I, Juan Martinez, was a better girl than they were. My dad beat me that night, and told me to enroll in Shop from now on. No more theatre, or choir, because these things were making me more . . . homosexual.
    "It never occurred to him that it was something deeper, and that as much as he didn't want a queer son, I didn't want to be a faggot. I didn't want to get my books kicked around. I didn't want to be tortured every day in gym. I didn't want to want boys. I just did. And I fought admitting that. And when Santos kissed me in the bushes, I punched him in the nose. And after Jonathan jacked me off, I refused to talk to him for months. And after I had sex for the first time, I was convinced I was going straight to Hell for all eternity. I kicked my boyfriend out and spent two weeks studying the Bible, and refusing to leave my apartment. I don't want to just go messing around with anyone. I don't want something casual, I want something real. And for that, I am a sinner. I will die and go to Hell because I want love. I want to be in love and I want to find someone who loves me. And even bigger than that, I want to show love. I want to find a way to make a differen ce. Is it wrong for me to want some love and to want to make a difference? "
    Juan pulled his knees to his