I'm not having it. "You're my angel." I mouth the words silently, and watch Jamie's eyes as his defences crumble. "Tammy," he whispers. We kiss each other tenderly as he wraps his arms around my shoulders, grasping the little angel and the chain in one hand. Our mouths meet and separate softly, and my ears tingle at his endless cries of pleasure.
"Just kissing you," I moan between kisses. "Just kissing you, holding you and kissing you, and not even going any further... it's magic."
"Yes," he gasps against my lips. "Yes."
It's magic. We make out for what seems like hours, right there in that dining chair with him in my lap, my gift still clutched in his fist, until I can no longer neglect the forceful pulsing behind my fly. "I want you," I breathe, rubbing my stubble against his lips. "Tell me you want me."
He answers with a frantic sob, "I want you. I want you..."
Our lips never part as we feverishly remove each other's clothes. We don't even make it to his bedroom. In the hallway, I press his back into the wall, hearing him cry out as the cold plaster shocks his hot skin. I hoist his legs up and around me, my fingers digging into his buttocks, his fingers digging into mine, trying to push me deeper into him.
We fuck wildly, our noisy exclamations startling the cats and sending them darting under Jamie's bed. "Poor things," we chortle through our moans and kisses.
When we climax, it lasts even longer than that incredible time on Christmas morning.
"Are you still coming?" I laugh when my spasms finally ease off enough for me to speak.
Jamie nods with a rapturous whimper, "When is it going to stop?!"
"I think my dick is numb!"
"My ass is numb!"
I laugh. He laughs. We both laugh softly.
Then we're both crying.
Then Jamie is smiling, really smiling. I've never seen such a beautiful smile.
It's inside of us both. "Do you feel it?"
He gasps, "Yes."
"We're one," I cry, my lips crushing his. "We're not two people anymore. We're one now."
"I feel it," Jamie nods, his eyes closed, his smile glorious.
"This is what people want, Baby," I whisper as our eyes touch again. "This is what everyone wants, everyone on earth, this feeling we're having right now, you and I..."
"Yes, I feel it."
"God, how I love you." I've never felt it or meant it more than I do at this moment.
I do. I love him. He surrounds me and warms me inside whether we're fucking or not.
We had a long, good talk the other day. I told him my darkest deeds, the shames that haunt me constantly.
And he didn't jump out of the bed and run from me.
He stayed and talked to me.
He told me God loves me.
And I cried, because all my life I've been lonely. I've been looking for someone to talk to, someone to really talk to me.
He doesn't judge me. He's not afraid of me.
That's the bonus.
"I love you too, Tammy. I love you so much." He reaches up and drops his little angel and the chain around his neck, and beams at it.
He loves me...
twenty-six:
jamie
(december 28)
Tonight I'm on heat. My mouth waters as I look him up and down, my eyes moving slowly, deliberately over his body. He towers over me, strong, perfectly proportioned, with an imperious poise that belies the deep, hidden sweetness I know. He wears nothing except for a plain silver chain similar to the one he's just given to me for Christmas, unadorned and masculine—absolutely perfect. I move close to him, take his hands in my own. "You're so sexy," I whisper, putting his hands on my ass. Then I slip my arms up around his neck, pull him in for a hot kiss. My eyes fasten to his erection and stay there until he's driven to exclaim his embarrassment. "Hey! I'm up here!"
"Mmmmm, you're down here too," I moan softly, my hand wrapping around him.
He throws me onto the bed and we devour each other, rolling over and over like mud wrestlers, our hands everywhere, our tongues down each other's throats. "I want your sweet ass," he says, squeezing me. He spreads my legs wide, eats me, his tongue lashing deep and hot into my hole. I melt like lava, crying for mercy. "Please, oh God, please. Tammy... Tammy..."
He lets me up and I try to crawl away, but he leaps behind me, grabs me around the waist, rubs his hard length against me. "You want it doggy style?" he gasps.
"No," I whimper, unexpectedly ravenous for something forbidden, resting my elbows and chest against the bed and lifting my ass. "Kitty style! Do it!"
"Kitty style! What's that?"
"Bite me. Hold me down, bite the back of my neck."
He lowers his face, nibbles me politely.
"Harder. Bite harder... like you're a big, mean tomcat and I'm your hot little pussy." I purr and trill, rubbing my head against his. "Please fuck me. Fuck me Daddy. Fuck my hole. Fuck me like a beast."
He groans, "I don't want to hurt you."
"Hurt me! Bite me!" I squeal desperately.
He indulges me, thrusting furiously, biting me and growling at me dangerously, sending shockwaves of delight shooting through me.
"God this is hot. This is so hot," he pants.
"Spank me!" I scream.
"Jamie..."
"Spank me, please! Spank me hard!"
He taps me gently on the ass. "Harder!" I insist. "Harder!"
Slap! his hand says against my pale skin. Slap!
While the fingers of his left hand tangle into the sheets, his right hand lands hard and solid on me. The stinging impact of his hand, the hard, wet clamp of his teeth into the nape of my neck, the force of his thrusts, the friction of his cock as it scrapes against my G-spot. Oh, God. I spray all over the bed, screaming out my pleasure with embarrassing loudness and sending our poor, traumatised kids scurrying out from under my bed into another room.
With Tammy wheezing above me, I slowly recover, and as the throbbing bliss begins to ebb, it should be replaced by relaxation and a feeling of contentment. But it's not. This time, my smiling face slowly metamorphoses into a grimace of the most profound shame, and I begin to cry, immediately rousing Tammy's concern.
"What is it? Jamie? What's wrong?!" He leaps off of me and kneels beside me. "Baby? What's wrong?!"
I'm in a ball, my hands covering my eyes. "I can't believe myself! I'm so dirty! I'm so disgusting!"
"Jamie!"
"I'm a disgusting, dirty freak!" I sob.
"You are not!" Tammy's crying now.
I can't help it. I can't stop. I'm hysterical, hopeless, saturated with self-hate. I sob and sob and Tammy does too.
"Jamie, please! Talk to me! What did I do? Did I do it wrong?"
"No!" I bawl. "You didn't do anything wrong. I'm sorry! I'm fucked up! I'm perverted! I'm sick!"
"Why are you saying this, Baby? Why?"
"Making you do that! Making you fuck me like we're a couple of animals! Making you bite me, spank me... I'm disgusting!"
"Hey! Come here."
I unfurl myself and throw my arms around him. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"
"Jamie." He sounds like his heart is about to break. "You didn't do anything wrong. Please listen to me."
My sobs hitch and hiccup in my throat, I'm crying that hard. I hide my face against his neck. My tears roll down his chest, through the wiry hairs, salt rivers in a black forest.
"Listen, Jamie."
I nod because I can't speak.
"What we did just now... it was fun. I liked it."
I shake my head. "It was dirty. I'm sick..." I would throw up all over him but there's nothing to throw up.
"No, you're not."
My gag reflex spasms hard. My sobs haven't subsided yet. Tammy's fingers caress my scalp. He's sitting Indian style with me in his lap. "Someone's really hurt you, Jamie. Someone's fucked you up... badly."
"That's what I mean!" I cry out against his throat. "I'm ruined! I'm a freak! I'm a pervert!"
"No, th
at's not what I'm saying!" Tammy sighs loudly. "I'm saying someone has really made you ashamed of yourself. Someone's hurt you so bad, Jamie. Please talk to me. Please tell me what they did to you."
"I can't."
"Please?"
"Tammy... don't..."
I see her, looming over me with her lit cigarette. "You're a dirty, nasty boy, Jamie. You're so bad. What are we going to do with such a nasty, naughty boy?" A piece of hot ash lands on my thigh. It burns for a nanosecond, not nearly as hotly or as horribly as the end of her cigarette.
I'm screaming, "Please, no! Please don't! Don't do it, please! I'll be good! I'll be good!"
"Jamie!"
I feel the hot glow. "Please, Mommy! Please don't do it! Please don't do it!"
"Jamie!" Tammy shouts. "Jamie!"
I dissolve into a sobbing, soggy mess as Tammy frantically tries to extricate me from the memories I'm trapped in.
They're like quicksand.
twenty-seven:
tammy
(december 28 and 29)
This anguished, screeching, coiled wreck has replaced the wild, inventive tempter I was fucking only a few minutes ago. I can't understand it. It kills me.
He screams, "Please don't do it, Mommy! Please don't!"
He's clearly having a panic attack or something. His screams sound as if they're tearing his vocal cords apart.
I hold him. "Jamie, it's Tam. I'm here. I'm here. Your mom isn't here. She's not here. Come back. Come back to me... It's okay... It's okay..."
Slowly, he comes back. But he huddles against me and cries, calling himself a freak, a pervert, a disgusting, sickening, dirty pig.
"Jamie," I say softly. "Please, talk to me. Tell me what they did to you. They hurt you so bad. I know it. Someone hurt you so bad. Was it your mother? Did she hurt you?"
He won't answer. After a long, long time, he lifts his head. "I'm sorry," he sniffles, his eyes and nose bright red and running.
"You have nothing to be sorry about. I just wish you would tell me what's going on."
He shakes his head. "It's too horrible to talk about."
"Don't you think I'd understand, Jamie?"
He sobs, "It's just too horrible..."
"Jamie," I say gingerly. "What we did... I liked it. I thought it was hot. It was fun."
His shame is killing him visibly.
"Sometimes... trying new things makes it even more fun," I whisper. "It was like a game. We were playing a game, that's all. Lots of people play different ways when they have sex. It makes it fun."
"It felt dirty," Jamie says.
"Why?"
"Because... it felt so... good..."
"It was good."
"I feel so dirty."
"What's wrong with feeling good, Jamie?"
"I don't know. I really have issues."
I nod. "Yes, sir, you really do have issues."
"I'm stupid, I know..."
"That's not what I said! No, you're not stupid!"
"It was fun," he admits finally. "But it made me feel dirty."
"It made me feel dirty too," I moan, "But in a good way."
He shudders. "It was gross."
"No. It wasn't gross. It was a really fun way to play. Sex is new to you, Baby. Why not play? Try new things with me. Don't be afraid of me."
I don't believe he was a virgin now. I think he's had a lover, and that his experience with that person has left him a mess. They used him and after they got their rocks off, whoever they are, they called him names. Maybe they abused him in other ways too...
They made him so ashamed of himself that now he can't even have fun.
I don't want to make him even more a mess by voicing my opinion. If he wants me to believe he was a virgin that first night with me, I won't derail that. And I'm not sure what his mother has to do with all this, but she must have done something awful to him for him to have screamed bloody murder the way he did. I want him to talk to me, tell me about it.
But I can't push him. I can only wait.
"Discover yourself, Jamie," I whisper against his hair as he clings to me. "Play with me, and discover yourself. You're not dirty. You're not disgusting. You're beautiful. You're mine. I don't ever want you to feel ashamed of yourself. I love you. God created sex. How can sex be dirty if God created it?"
"I thought you didn't believe in God," Jamie says, raising his head and smearing tears over his face.
"If I did, I certainly wouldn't believe He made anything dirty."
"Pastor used to say that God made sex only for people to procreate, that it's a sin to do it... for fun..."
"Pastor Asshole?!" I roar, the very mention of His Holiness raising my hackles. "He is so full of bullshit! He's a fucking hypocrite!"
"And that it's a sin for two men to love each other."
"He's my dad, you know..."
His eyes widen. "Your dad is Pastor Sellers?"
"Yeah. He had an affair with my mom. She got pregnant. He didn't leave his wife, but Mom never asked him to. All she ever asked him for was help raising me. But he didn't give her a nickel, never wanted to see me, to get to know me, nothing. He pretends it never happened. He ignores me."
There. My pain is out. And now, maybe he'll soften, open, like a rose.
"Tammy..." He holds me.
"I can't stand him," I mumble.
"But it still hurts, doesn't it?" He's reading my mind again.
"Yeah, it hurts. He is why I'm not a big fan of going to church." I sigh heavily. "You and I... we spent sixteen years alone, apart, unhappy, lonely. We punished ourselves when all we wanted was to be together. I used to swallow that crap, Jamie. I used to believe it was wrong to love you. That's why I left! That's why I went away and left you here alone. Because I was ashamed. I tried to like women. I tried. But all I wanted was you. I didn't even want other men! Only you. And if that's so wrong in God's eyes—if you and I are supposed to go through life without love, if we're supposed to be condemned to a miserable, lonely life—well, maybe I don't believe in Him."
Jamie is quiet, gathering his thoughts. "You said I should try and discover myself."
"Yes, Jamie."
"What if I don't like what I discover?"
"Why do you say that, Jamie?" I am practically beseeching him...
He says nothing. His eyes are glazed in misery.
"Jamie, we're adults, both of us, and we care about each other. Nothing we've done so far has hurt either of us, right? Have I ever hurt you?"
"Only the first time, and I wanted it to hurt."
"Because you wanted punishment?" I ask very carefully.
"No, just because I wanted my first time to be scary—and painful—like everyone else's. And because I wanted to be sure you cared that it hurt me."
"I did."
"I know," he nods.
"I'd never hurt you intentionally. I'd never play with you and then turn around and abuse you or call you names afterward."
Jamie's eyes leap up and search mine furtively.
I think perhaps I've gotten through to him.
When I get home the next day to check on Mom, she hands me a package, a large orange envelope with my name scrawled in curvy handwriting. When I tear it open, it's a VHS tape with no label. There's no return address on the envelope. So I take the tape to the VCR in my bedroom.
Soon as I press the play button, Jamie's face appears. He's very young, I'd guess only about seven or eight. There's no mistaking those enormous blue eyes or that preternatural doll face. For a moment, I believe Jamie has sent me an old home video of him as a surprise. How delightful! To see a video of my boyfriend as a child, maybe having a birthday party or something!
Then I begin to notice the wrongs. The camera is capturing him from the waist up, and he's not wearing a shirt. He's smiling, looking directly into the camera that is trained on him.
But his eyes are not sparkling, his smile is not happy.
It's not real.
A woman's voice sings out, "Ja
mie just loves big, creamy Ding Dongs, don't you, Jamie?" The voice is medium-deep, raspy, like she's had a long history of smoking. There is a mocking tone to it.
"Yeah," Jamie says in a small, frightened voice, struggling to keep his smile from crumbling. His eyes glitter with tears.
"Take a bite, Jamie," the woman says.
His name in her voice... there is a malicious quality that can't be mistaken. Jamie nibbles on the chocolate snack cake in his hand as the camera zooms out.
"Take a real bite!" the woman snaps. Jamie flinches, and pushes the entire cake into his mouth, tries not to choke.
He's so thin.
"That's the way!"
The camera zooms out further, and it's then that I see Jamie is completely nude, sitting on a bed. The wall behind him is painted putrid yellow. Big chips have been stripped away, revealing a loud, bizarre shade of turquoise.
I see the now familiar red around his ankles, the bruises, old ones in green, new ones in purplish-black.
I see the welts, the burns...
A man comes into the picture and sits on the bed with Jamie. The man has dark blonde hair. I can't make out the colour of his eyes.
He's naked too.
I need to turn this off, now.
But I can't.
Jamie's naked, in a bed, with a grown man.
I have to see what happens.
Why? You'd think I'd realise that this video is over twenty years old, and that it isn't the real Jamie in that video. It's only an image.
He's not in that room with that man and woman anymore.
Instead, I think, Jamie's in trouble. Someone is doing things to him. I have to see what happens. I can't leave him like this.
God, how sorry I end up being after watching it.
The man leans close to Jamie and says, "Gimme kisses."
Jamie frowns and shakes his head vigorously. "No, Daddy, please. I don't want to do the show."
"Come on, Pretty," the man begs. "Show Daddy how much you love him. You do love Daddy, right? Daddy loves you."
Guilt stabs the boy's eyes. "I know," he says, unable to look at the camera, unable to look at the man calling himself "Daddy." His eyes fix downward, clouded over, miasmas of terror.
Crush Page 20
