Trying Twice

Nothing is straight forward. I can't get the pictures to work on the blog. The uploading mechanism just won't work. I don't know why.

The story continues, and I have to dash off to work in a minute:


"Around the Cross all the boys pretended they were straight and only on the game for the money. He could never admit his attraction for his friends. They would all pretend there was a girl waiting for them round the corner. He played the part too, or got very coy when his own sex life was discussed. Try as he might, he still hadn't managed to lose his heterosexual virginity. Still, there was no shortage of men. There was always a sugar daddy dangling. He went from one to the next, worshiping at the knees of corrupt saints.

He wanted to be looked after. The hostility of his father, the belt snaking out towards him, the endless brutal anger, the absolute lack of affection, was replaced by an ancient kindness. He lapped it up. He was always so pissed by the time he ended up in bed he couldn't have cared less who or what was gobbling him off, as long as he had a bed for the night.

They would buy him cars, rent apartments, take him out to dinner, listen as he told them, drunk and excited, of all the things he was going to do in his life. Old men, young boys, it was a time honoured relationship. He learnt a lot from them. Some did their best by him, encouraged him to go back to school, read books, listen to music. Took him to concerts, restaurants. Paid his school fees and later university expenses. It wasn't just sex they wanted, though they always wanted that. Their physical repulsiveness was overstepped by emotional intricacies. They all wanted to be loved, and the preposterousness of expecting love in return from a sixteen-year-old boy never struck them.