Away at school

HURT. I want it to hurt when he puts it inside me. Even though he's smeared huge gobs of vaseline all over him and me I want it to hurt. Billy I want you to HURT


late October 1987
Billy came home from the electronics store all excited because he found a cheap compact disc player, as he calls it. Good. Now he won't use mine to play the goddamn Smyths or whatever they're called. He's in his little office-study room setting it up. Before the Smyths' faggy singer starts on about knowing how Joan of Arc felt I'll introduce myself and tell you where I am.
My name is Michael Simon Johnson. I'm eighteen and go to school at St. Sebastian's Academy in Possum Trot, Delaware. My family, actually the man and woman who claim to be my biological parents live in Indiana. They are freezing their puckered asses off as I write this. I'm lefthanded and smear my Pentel marks across the page. It's not important. Nobody ever reads this notebook except me. Billy doesn't even try to sneak a loook and he's practically my spouse. Queer huh?
I was an incorrigible delinquent who got in a lot of sex and drug related trouble
before my parents decided to send me to Sebastapol as we call it. I remember the look of relief on their faces after they talked to the counselor for Special Boys. No I'm not retarded. That's Seb's euphemism for discipline problems or possible discipline problems.
"Goody", I can hear Mrs. Johnson saying. "Now he can get caught while simultaneously smoking marijuana and getting his penis sucked without somebody calling us to come get him. Byeee Mike."

Billy was my second roommate. The first one, Griff, didn't work out. He was a big footballer boy with broad shoulders and halitosis. Whenever his stupid townie whore girlfriend wouldn't put out he would wake me up -can you believe the nerve? - and say "Hey Mike I need a handjob real bad". Then he'd grab my little frail hand and make me wrap my fingers around his ugly jock penis. The thing was really thick but only about five inches. The first time he presented it to me I laughed. He got pissed off and tried to hit me. I ducked and he punched and broke a ole in the wall. Then we both laughed. I gave him a blow job for being so funny.
I didn't mind helping Griff out once in a while. The three regular out school gay boys were really effeminate and stuck up. God only knows what Tweedle, Frankie and Chris did for sex. Maybe they have a three way. Ugh. Bigassed Tweedle sandwiched by emaciated Chris and adequately built Chris. But Griff got more and more demanding. Even though he was supposedly het, he started sleeping with me because " it's cold in this motherfucker Mike."
The last straw was when he tried to fuck me. I could have accused him of attempted rape and gotten him arrested and expelled but I really am trying to be corrigible.
One night last April he climbed into bed and whispered " Mike, it's Griff."
" Aw I thought you were Ronald Reagan." I sat up and reached for his stumplike boner. I was surprised to realize he had slipped a condom over his freaky tool. Oh no you're not. i don't care if you're wearing a whole box of rubbers. " Mike, I know what you're thinking but it's all right."
" I must have gone deaf all of a sudden."
" Why?"
" Because I didn't hear myself give you permission to stick your grotesque winkie up my butt."
" Aww Mike", he cooed in what I guess he thought was his sexy voice. Then he grabbed me and started jabbing at my behind with his love knocker. I tried to wriggle free but he just held me tighter, the son of a bitch, until I felt his dick slide between my butt cheeks, dangerously close to my little virgin hole. He grunted and pushed his body at me. Suddenly my rear end felt like it was tearing open.

( to be continued)