Leo's story - part 3

Father, you may not know this, but, it's a good feeling to have someone else in bed with you. Maybe not always; but, when it's good it's real good. Being able to reach out and touch someone in the darkness...

I woke up at about 3:00. Leo was gone - I could hear water running in the bathroom. He was soon back in bed, lying on his back. I climbed on top of him and stretched out his arms with his fingers dovetailed in mine, and spread his legs with mine, our groins pressed together. We kissed. I could feel Leo's cock push against me, and my cock was hardening up too.

"How are you?" I tilted my head to one side, peering at the dark shapes. Light from the street painted the room in a faint glow of charcoal and dark orange.

Leo took a deep breath and started quietly, "I'm ok - I'm better than that, I'm really good. I don't know what to think, what to feel. I've been sucked and fucked in ways I never dreamed possible, and now I'm pinned down in my bed by a some naked guy, and it's three in the morning. I did not expect this to happen this time yesterday."

I gave him a teasing thrust with my cock. "Go on," I kidded, "I bet this kind of stuff happens to you all the time."

Even in the dark, Leo looked away.

There was a prolonged silence, like he was thinking, deciding - I couldn't tell.

He gave a little nervous cough.

"No", he whispered, "no it doesn't. It's never happened before. I'm a 62 year old virgin. Well, I was, this time yesterday."

I was going to say something flash, something mocking, stupid, but for once I shut up.

Leo increased his grip on my fingers, and pressed his legs tight up against me. I could feel his pulse racing, feel the tension building up as he struggled. His was panting and began to drip sweat. Strange animal noises crawled out from deep in his body. I was frightened that he was having a heart attack or some kind of seizure. It's not as though I was holding him - he clung to me. Leo struggled, not against me, but against some unseen thing, something inside of himself.

I bent my head down and kissed him in the middle of his chest.

Such a simple act.

After a still, silent moment, Leo was electrified. He hefted me to one side. He hammered his fists into the bed, and roared with anguished rage again before hugging his arms around his chest and collapsing, sobbing, into a curl of despair.

The hair on my neck was standing up, I was shaking. Blood pounded in my ears.

I curled up near him and waited. I was frighted to touch him. I didn't want to upset him again. I wanted to reach out. I wanted to hug him and hold him tight, but I was afraid.

Eventually Leo calmed down, and his breathing became more even as he fell sleep. I slipped off into an uneasy sleep, unsure whether to stay, unsure whether he was ok, and, what the hell was all that about?

I woke up with a start a couple of hours later. Leo was sitting on the edge of the bed, and then he launched himself into the darkness. He was back a few moments later. I waited until he climbed back into bed and settled in with a sigh.

"Are you ok?" I ventured my hand out to him.

Leo swallowed. "Yes, I'm ok. I'm sorry about before..."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Leo hesitated. I began to feel frightened again.

"I'm so sorry," he said softly, half to himself. He paused again, coughed a little.

I waited, holding his hand.

He lifted up my hand and tenderly kissed my palm. The smooth moistness of his lips were in stark contrast with the dry husks of his unshaven cheeks.

He licked his lips, began to speak in a croak, coughed and started again.

"My mother was an alcoholic whore. She'd fuck anyone to get what she wanted - usually for booze. She'd bring men home - drunk strangers she'd picked up in bars. They'd party - drinking and fucking, music and falling over the furniture. The moment she'd get home she'd want me out of sight - down in the basement. If I was too slow she'd curse and slap me, push me down the stairs. If I started to cry she'd laugh at me and mock me - 'oh poor liddle baby's gonna cry'. She never touched me in any loving way. All I can remember was how she laughed when she beat me, and her putrid breath.

I made a hiding place in the basement using cardboard boxes and newspapers. It was warm and dry, and it became my safe house. The spiders and mice became my friends. In the mornings after her drinking I would creep upstairs and to see if there was any food. If there was, it'd be shit - fast food ketchup on white bread. I'd pinch off the mould. Cold pizza if I was lucky. Some slimy chinese food. I remember one year she brought home a guy who had brought a packet of Christmas mince pies. They were broken, crushed; but I've never eaten anything so good in my life.

My father did nothing. It was all he could do to protect himself from her violence and abuse. She fucked strangers just for the pain it caused him. She did it because she hated him, blaming him for everything, even that 'snivelling little rat' in the basement. When he brought home money she was happy. But it wouldn't last. She'd see to that. She'd drink the food money, and go out for more. And then there'd be violence, broken glass, blood and piss.

He'd retreat down the stairs and pace around like some trapped jungle cat - growling to himself, tortured with anxiety. Eventually he'd go to sleep on a pile of old carpet in the corner. He'd go early, before she woke up. He'd come home at the end of the day, exhausted; and the cycle would replay night after night."

Leo stopped. A car drove past, the room lit up briefly. Leo's face looked haggard. He swallowed and shivered.

"One afternoon my father came home earlier than usual. He'd lost his job. She was insane with rage - no more easy booze money. "I'll fix you!" She slammed the door.

He made us some tinned soup and bread, and we ate in silence. He knew I wanted to run away. "We can't go," he said, "She needs us."

It was late when she came home, drunk, with two men. She set them on him, and the bitch shrieked with laughter as they pounded him. I'll never forget how it sounded - sullen thumps like the flesh was dead already, him begging, cracking. Then not. I guess they made him watch while they fucked her, and then they started on him again. She urged them on, mocking him. Suddenly the basement door was opened and they threw him down the stairs. She laughed! She laughed and she locked the door.

I was frightened. Crying and shaking. Through the gaps between the boxes I could see his broken body. Most of his clothes had been torn off him. He was groaning and spitting out blood. Above me it went crazy. A fight broke out between them, or maybe they decided to beat her while they fucked her as well. The screaming and thumping was terrifying. I shut my eyes, blocked my ears, and sung 'You are my sunshine, my only sunshine' over and over to drown out the noise.

It was the floor creaking that woke me. I figured the bitch was walking around - sucking the first cigarette and whatever booze was left. The sun was low, and the basement was flooded with light beaming through the window. Then I looked - the creaking was my father hanging. Gone. Lost. The misery was too much. He never touched me, held me, reached out to me - he never talked to me. He knew I was there. I was just a kid, just a kid! What could I do?"

Leo wrung his hands. He panted and moaned in anguish, drawing deep from within himself. I reached out and gingerly touched his chest with the flat of my hand. He jumped like he was scalded, and clung on to me like he'd never let go and sobbed like a lost child. I wept for him too, my tears dripping freely on to his shoulder.

Gradually Leo's shaking subsided and he told me the rest of his story. How he'd climbed out the window to get help. The door was open and his mother had vanished. He never saw her again. Leo went to a neighbour for help and she raised the alarm. The story became a fog of uniforms, foster homes, faceless people, shuffled paper, and a deep longing for something he couldn't describe. He had nothing. Not even a baby photo. It was as though he didn't exist until he stepped out of the darkness as a ready-made young man.

I cuddled him. Leo sighed, and with that breath it seemed to me that weight of more than 50 years eased. I kissed him, and stroked his hair. He fell asleep in my arms.

<<< Leo's story - part 2 <<< || >>> Leo's story - part 4 >>>

 

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