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I’d been away for about four months, and I was still really homesick. I had skipped a grade in elementary school, which at the time made me feel like some kind of boy genius, but really all it meant was always being extra small compared to the other kids in my class, and that eventually I’d get one less year at home with my family. One more year on my own. So now I’d been living in the dorm since fall semester started. My roommate seemed nice enough I guess, although he couldn’t get a sentence out without calling me “bra” or “dude” or even “chief.” Our interactions were polite, brief, and awkward. The other guys in the dorm weren’t much different. Just like in high school, I had a hard time making friends. It felt like everyone could somehow tell how shockingly uncool I really was. How I had never even smoked a cigarette, never stopped sleeping with a teddy bear, never been kissed.
The only person who had taken any interest in me whatsoever was my English lit professor. He gave me all A’s and he’d write all over every paper- usually with a lot of questions that I’d discuss with him after class. Then I started talking to him in his office, then sometimes coffee somewhere on campus, which eventually turned into real dates at fancy restaurants where I never knew how to pronounce most of what was on the menu. Dr. Harris- William, as I eventually got used to calling him, was so kind and understanding. I’d go on about everything, the boys in the dorms, how much I missed home- I don’t know what someone so smart and sophisticated could possibly see in someone my age- let alone in me. But he’d sit and listen patiently, stroking my hand or refilling my wine. I felt less lonely knowing him.
As kind as he was, William’s patience didn’t extend to everything. He started suggesting more dinners in. Or some obscure film he wanted me to see- not in the theater, but from his own collection. These dates always ended with us kissing on his couch for a long time and me making some excuse about an overdue paper or an upcoming test. At first he was polite, but eventually there were arguments. We sort of compromised on not doing everything just yet. He’d push my head down in his lap, and I stopped resisting. I don’t know why, I just didn’t feel ready. I felt shy about my body and my lack of experience. There was only one person who had touched me at all without making me uncomfortable.
When I was still living at home, Daddy would come in my room at night, after Mom was sacked out from her sleeping pills I guess. He’d wrap his arms around me with his chest against my back and kiss my neck. He felt so warm with all that hair on his chest and arms. Sometimes he’d get hard, probably just from feeling the warmth of my skin, but I liked it and I would try to scoot closer and press against it with my butt. He didn’t mind, in fact he started pushing it against me too, sort of rubbing up and down. I know it sounds weird, but I had really wished I could touch it. I still thought about it a lot, and I wondered if now that I was gone he missed our time in my bed together too.
Now it was December- finally time to go home for Christmas break. William insisted on going with me to meet my parents. I didn’t want him to, but for some reason it always felt almost impossible to say no to him. I told them I was bringing home a boyfriend, which they didn’t seem thrilled about over the phone, even though the whole gay part was nothing new. Maybe they’d warm up to him once they met him. He was very charming in like a classy, British way. The first night we were there, I had never wished so much that I wasn’t an only child. Even one brother or sister would have been a really useful buffer. I had been dying to see my parents for so long, but everything felt really quiet and tense. I knew Mom had had her problems with my being gay- but Daddy? He was being so cold and standoffish. Things gradually got more comfortable over the next few days, except having to share a bed with William. We never did that- I had always gone back to my dorm. I felt dumb for thinking it, but I wished it was Daddy curled up with me in my old bedroom instead. I kept thinking about him being just down the hall.
One night I was lying awake and I heard the tv in the living room. I got up as quietly as I could. Daddy was sitting in his armchair. I climbed into his lap, like I had done a million times. “Baby, come on.” He sounded annoyed, and he put his hands on my waist in this way where he was moving me out of his way. It was on a commercial, so it wasn’t like I was blocking his view. He just didn’t want to hold me. I know I was probably overreacting, but I had just missed him so much. I got up and went in the kitchen so he wouldn’t see me crying. After a few minutes, he came in. “What’s the problem here?” He had this harsh tone in his voice I had never heard before. “Nothing,” I said, “just…Daddy, what did I do wrong? I don’t understand.” He reached out and held the side of my face in what otherwise would have felt like a tender gesture. “You know exactly what you did wrong. What were you thinking bringing him here, huh? What are you doing getting involved with him at all?” I just looked at him. “Answer me, Goddammit.” But he didn’t give me any time. “I guess you’ve just replaced me, haven’t you, boy? You don’t need Daddy anymore, do you? Now you have that…” He stopped there.
He still had his hand against my face. Now he slid it to the back of my neck and pushed me against him. He held me there for a minute while I sobbed against his chest. “I love you, Daddy. You’re the only one I love.” He pulled me back a bit so my face was right up close to his. “Prove it.” He picked me up and shoved me down on the counter on my hands and knees. Before I knew what was happening, his dick was in my ass. All the way in. The pain was intense. It felt hot and wet, and I couldn’t tell if it was cum or blood. Either way I wasn’t moving. When it was over he said in my ear “Your mom and I are getting a divorce. You’re free to come stay with me any time you want. Alone.”