Date: Thu, 26 Sep 2013 01:15:56 -0700 From: Blake Tomczak Subject: Blake part 2 This story is mine and I make my claim to it as an author. This story is non-fiction and follows my own life events. All names will be changed for identity safety purposes. Warning: This story is not suitable for viewing of anyone under the age of 18. I got some positive feedback from the last story that I posted, so thank you all for your time and reading. I continued spending time with James. Once we went to the beach at night time and lay in the sand as I sucked his cock and he sucked mine. As euphoric as it seems, it's actually very uncomfortable and sand gets *everywhere.* Often he would come to my house (my father was not often home at night) and would pick me up to go to his house. "You look so hot in that shirt," he told me as I walked up to his car in a shirt that hugged my chest with a picture of an octopus taking down a ship on it. It's a lot cooler looking than it sounds, trust me. At this point in my life I weighed about 150 lbs and stood at 5'11", a bit on the skinnier side but still showing muscle and definition. Longer, brown hair and glasses, somewhat of a unique look. As we pull up to his house, he put his hand on my leg and kissed me. I love kissing. The feeling of being wanted is very rewarding, and kissing was a great way of feeling this. Aside from that, it was so fun and hot to do. As he take his hand off of my leg, we get out of his car and head into his house. He wants to hang out before we jump to it once again. I do as he says, and before I know it he's on top of me on the couch while something that I was far too uninterested to pay attention to plays in the background on the television. He runs his hands along my sides and waist as he kisses my mouth, making his way towards my neck. We get excited and get off of his couch and move towards his room. Although sex with him felt more invested than with others, it still felt distant and unattached. I had no problem with that at all, though. I didn't desire to have any sort of relationship with anyone, or so I thought. For the most point I didn't, but I began to consider it with him. He kisses the nape of my neck as he starts to pull down my jeans. He runs his hands over my ass as he removes them. "Can I fuck you?" I refuse. "Why not? You did it to me," he says as he begins to push me down, forcefully. It wasn't threatening, but enough to make me somewhat uncomfortable. "I told you this from the beginning, nobody can fuck me. I don't like it." He whined, but he also understood. It also didn't help that James had a big dick. Most of the guys that I've been with have seemed to have much-larger-than-average packages. We spent our time sucking each other off. I love giving blow jobs. I almost view it as an art or a sort of talent that you can have. A lot of consideration should go into it and if you do it properly, then you're amazing at it. We were in the car on the way back. "I think we go really well together," I say. I don't realize what I'm saying as I speak. We had discussed before that this relationship was strictly casual, and usually I'm the one enforcing that. Too many times I've had feelings develop from the other person towards me, and it never ends peacefully. He asks me, "What do you mean?" I mean-" I stammered and couldn't think of what to say. I felt myself flush a bit. "Oh, you mean like peanut butter and jelly? Yeah!" I agreed. I was glad that he made the excuse for me before I could respond. I don't know why I'm feeling this way, but I decide not to make any rash decisions. After that night, I spent less time away from James. We still remain friends to this day (even though we haven't talked in the last few months), but at the time I decided it was best I kept my distance. My father for the majority of my early life had many girlfriends at one time, perhaps four or five. Eventually he stopped cheating, but I also had to hold his secret with me. He would be upset with me if I would ever slip a small amount of information unintentionally. This point may be past that, but I'm not quite sure if he really stopped being a cheater or if he decided to keep the secrets from me, as well. We ended up going to visit his girlfriend in central California, only about a 6-hour drive north from where we lived at the time. In that area I had jerked off with a random boy that I met once before. I didn't see him this time. We had plans to go to a concert to see my dad's girlfriend's ex-husband's niece (complicated, I know) play with a lot of his girlfriend's friends and their co-workers. We drank mimosas before we left the house (my dad was comfortable with me drinking and smoking at this age) and went on a bus to the concert. On this specific day, my glasses were broken and I didn't have them on me. I felt naked without them. I noticed a man on the front of the bus that kept staring back at me, as I was staring at him. He was about 6'2", dirty blonde hair, and had an amazingly hot body. He was the classic college man, 24 years old at the time as I was 15 and he was wearing a shirt that hugged his pecs and muscles and shorts that rode above his knees with flip flops. I found myself very attracted to him. After we got to the concert I decided to start conversation with him. I discovered that his name was Richard and he attended the college at the city. He began to buy me beers as we listen to the music and talk to each other. We ended up shirtless and laying under a blanket hugging each other, where my dad discovered us as he threatened to start a fight with him. He shamed him for making advances on a boy much younger than him. My father also hit me in front of everyone, getting us kicked out of the concert. After we got back to my father's girlfriend's house, I left. I ended up meeting up with Richard. He offered to take me to dinner, but I told him to take me to his house. There he made me pizza in the oven and we went into his back yard and he let me throw one of his chickens. He had roommates and they all had chickens in their backyard; I never got an explanation for it, really. We went into his friend's room where we started to play music. I lay down on the bed, and he joined me and lay next to me. He suddenly moved himself over me and kissed me, surprising me. Chills ran down my body. "Holy shit," I thought, "this is really happening right now." We made out as I ran my hands down his back with his warm, strong body on top of me. He was beautifully sculpted. I couldn't stop admiring his perfect body and masculine features. I thought of this as he shoved his tongue down my throat. It was unbelievably hot. We decided to move to his room. We got up and walked over there, undressing along the way. Once we got there, he threw me down on his bed. Once again, I was used to being the dominant one so this came as a shock to me and I was turned on even more than I already was. My already hard dick became rock hard, and I was ready to go. He put my legs over his shoulders and started to suck my cock. He did it amazingly, focusing on the head when it was appropriate and being able to fit the whole thing in his mouth. He'd run his hands up and down my thighs and the area around my hips as he'd suck on my cock. It was amazing. I pulled him up to my face and kissed him, hard. I flipped us around so I was on top instead of him and started to blow him. I was surprised by the size of his cock; it was very large. I stick the head in my mouth, rubbing it on my cheek before I stick it down my throat. I put my hand on the area around his cock as I move up and down the shaft. "Oh, fuck," I hear him moan. I assume that I'm doing a good job. I grab his ass with both of my hands as I suck. I lick the tip as I pull him out of my mouth, to wrap my lips tightly around his cock once again and go down. I play with his taint with my thumb as I work his cock with my mouth. "I'm getting close," he says. I allow him to cum on my face, but not in my mouth. I wasn't able to finish myself, but I was happy that I was able to make him cum. His roommate texted him that if I were there, I had to leave. He drove me back downtown, where I stayed and didn't want to return to where my dad was yet (we got in a huge fight before I left). As I was gone, my father found my blog online. He found out that I was gay and reacted very poorly to it. After the trip, we return home. The beatings got worse. He would now use tree branches, and sometimes even have me pick out which one that he would whip me with. I started to have scratches and bleed, along with bruises and other things. He wouldn't talk to me except for telling me, "You're gross," or, "Nobody at school is going to like you." He would often pull up articles of homosexuals being raped by other men and other atrocious things. Other than this, he wouldn't look at me or talk to me. I fell into the deepest state of depression that I can ever remember being in. I would just lay in my bed all day, not sleeping or moving or crying, just lying there. I wouldn't even talk to my best friend, Tiffany. I feel bad because I've omitted her from this story, but I'll touch base on her later on. In a generalization, she's family to me. Her father wasn't great to her and she would spend every night at my house, essentially living with me. Since my father was often away on work trips, we would have parties together. At one point she slept with my older cousin, it's kind of funny. She's Jamaican but has no accent and is very attractive. Back to the main story, my counselor at my school noticed that I seemed more aloof, was going to school even less often than usual, and that the beatings seemed to be getting worse. It was no secret that my father beat me; once he even struck me in the attendance office. He received no punishment at all. I ended up having to go to a youth shelter for two weeks. It was a living hell. We weren't allowed to leave the building, I couldn't have cigarettes, and I had to share a room with some creepy kid. The place was filled with troubled adolescents: gang members, drug addicts, foster children, and even a mentally handicapped kid. There were a lot of fights. In one instance, these two girls fell on top of me while they were throwing fists at each other in the meeting of a group session. In these, we sat in circles in chairs and talked about ourselves, our experiences, and how we could improve ourselves. Once I brought a girl to tears when sharing my own story. I jumped up as they fell on top of me and the special kid screamed, "I'm going to get help!" and ran out of the room. The counselor had no idea what to do. In another instance, a tall black boy fought a Mexican girl, both in gangs- one in Hawaiian Gardens, another from Long Beach. In others, people would just fight each other. I somewhat got used to it. The administrators said that they've never had these problems and they didn't understand why this group was so unruly. One time I couldn't stand it anymore so I left the place so I could have a cigarette. They considered me "AWOL", but they accepted me back into there fine. While I was in the shelter, Tiffany found a job. When I got out of the youth shelter, my father still wouldn't talk or look at me. He had to go through counseling sessions himself when I went there. Once police questioned me about the statutory rape when I was twelve. The cop was really cute. I wanted him. I also didn't want to get the boy that I was in the hotel with in trouble, so I omitted as much information as possible. One night my father came up to me. "Pack whatever shit you need in a bag. You're moving to your grandparents' tomorrow morning." This was devastating news. I called Tiffany, in tears. I told her that she needed to be there immediately. She came. I cried and she cried. I couldn't believe that I was leaving. Essentially, he kicked me out because I'm gay (or that's what I gathered on it). The next morning I was on the road to my mother's parents' house in San Diego. This seems like a good place to stop. Once again, thank you for the positive feedback. Sorry if I'm making this story too personalized. You can feel free to email me any more feedback to blakelt27@gmail.com Thank you for your time.