Chapter 24: Jean Broody vs. Bradley Jackson ~ When suppressed desires explode… Trauma!

***

“One day my parents left home for evening service. I’d been waiting impatiently for them to leave. I needed a fix. Their car barely left the driveway before I was drawing Wendell on top of me, right there in the living room. He did protest that we should at least wait for a while but I wouldn’t hear of it. And I knew exactly how to get him revved up. We didn’t even bother stripping. We were both dying for the fuck at that point. Wendell’s pants dropped down to his ankles, my shorts went to my knees, and then my legs were pushed onto my shoulders. I was practically folded in two. It was supposed to be a quickie. It was fast and rapturous. Just as I was about to come, I asked him to squeeze my neck.”

“Fuck.” Jean breathed. His first utterance since Bradley began his story. He’d never heard anything so wrong and yet so incredibly erotic in his life.

“That wasn’t the first time we’d done that. Wendell knew when to let go so I wasn’t in any danger. Coming from that was…” He shook his head slowly, the look on his face showing how much he’d loved what he was talking about. “…it was something else. Hanging on that precipice…between life and death, I came hard. Ropes of cum shot out onto my stomach, soiling my t-shirt. I couldn’t stop coming. I heard Wendell’s scream from a faraway place. Then his hands loosened from around my neck and he fell heavily beside me, releasing my legs in the process.” Bradley went quiet, a look of utter pain on his face. “My legs fell back onto the rug. I was disoriented. I couldn’t find my bearings. I saw Wendell urgently, but at the same time almost…sluggishly get to his feet, pulling up his pants as he straightened up. I noticed that his eyes looked unfocused.

And that was when I heard my father’s voice. He wanted to know whether I was okay. I was shocked he was there. Till now, I don’t know why they came back into the house. Maybe they forgot something or there was a change of plan…I never got to know. My father’s hand gripped Wendell under the neck. I noticed my mother kneeling beside me in a state of shock. Her eyes were riveted on my stomach, where my pulsing cock still spurted out some cum. I saw blood dripping down onto the back of Wendell’s shirt. It was dripping from the back of his head. He looked so weak. I could have sworn the only thing keeping Wendell upright was the grip my father had on him. My eyes went to my father’s face. God, he looked furious. And that was when what was going on finally penetrated my befuddled brain.

I finally succeeded in instructing my legs to move and got up. Then I began to scream at my dad to let go of Wendell. I even tried to pry his fingers from Wendell’s neck but he said he couldn’t let a child molester and murderer go. And that he’d seen him trying to strangle me whilst raping me. I told him that I’d asked Wendell to do it so he hadn’t been molesting me. But my father wouldn’t listen. I desperately told him that I enjoyed getting fucked by Wendell and had actually begged for it. I don’t know what came over me or what made me so bold. I guess I was terrified at how Wendell looked. My father looked stunned for a moment, then he started to argue that I didn’t know what I was talking about. My mother screamed at him to let Wendell go then. Maybe she realized that Wendell was dying. Maybe she realized I was being truthful. I don’t know why she told my father to let the guy go but I was thankful. But my father still wouldn’t.

Shocked at my mother’s words and reaction, however, he turned his head to look at her. Then his eyes followed the direction of hers to my cum-stained t-shirt. It wouldn’t have taken a genius to know that all that cum was mine. My exposed cock was still wet and dripping. My father was so shocked he let go of Wendell, who immediately crumbled onto the floor and just laid there…unmoving. I covered his body with mine and pleaded with him to open his eyes but he wouldn’t. I screamed and shook him but… The rug on which he lay was crimson where his head touched it. That colour kept spreading. My father must have hit his head with something when he saw him on top of me. I’ve never liked the colour red since that day. I knew I had to get him to the hospital. I rolled off him and pulled up my shorts.

And that was when the insults and curses began. I’ve never seen my father so furious. Words like sick, evil, sinner, and hellfire flew out of his lips. Then the punches came. My mother screamed and tried to stop my father but…he was a big man. My mother couldn’t stop him. But the blows didn’t hurt like his words. Eventually, my father let go of me and asked me to leave his house and never come back. I run to the phone but he slapped it out of my hand. I’ve never felt so desperate in my life. Even to my inexperienced eye, Wendell looked dead. I began to sob. And that was when my father rushed into his bedroom and came out with a gun and a murdering glint in his eyes.

I fled to the sound of his threats to kill me if he ever set eyes on me again, and my mother’s screams. I hid somewhere and watched till an ambulance came to take Wendell’s body away. I later heard that according to my father, armed robbers came to attack Wendell and then probably kidnapped me. He said he was waiting for a ransom note. And that God knew best. I never went back to that house. I’d caused the death of the one I loved and I hated myself for that. But I never wanted to see the face of the man who killed him, ever again.

But for me, Wendell wouldn’t be dead. I vowed never to allow another man to give me what I had with Wendell. That was supposed to be my punishment to myself. You see, I was by then so much addicted to that pleasure a man could give me, it was sheer agony denying myself that. I loved Wendell and I was devastated that he was no longer in my life. But I could have easily gotten another guy to fulfill that physical need. Depriving myself of that, to me, was the price I had to pay for causing the death of a very good man. If only I’d listened to his protests, he would be alive.

To rein in that craving for a man, I completely suppressed that part of me. It was very difficult in the initial stages. The urge was intense and I had a lot of opportunities to hook up with people but I ultimately ended up repressing it. I even stopped jacking off because it was something I did with Wendell and it reminded me of him. I swear I didn’t think I could live without it. But I got used to not having it. All it took was self-hatred and determination. Until you ruined it for me. See why I said I wasn’t in the closet per se?”

“Shit.”

“You can say that again.” Bradley gave a burst of humourless laughter.

Jean stared at Bradley. A lot of things made sense after Bradley’s story. For instance, he now understood why Bradley had snapped when he’d alluded to the fact that having sex wouldn’t result in deaths. He also couldn’t help but wonder how Bradley had survived after that painful childhood. How had he even managed to survive enough to come that far? Jean had some new respect for the man.

“Are you going to say anything?” Bradley asked. That was the first time he’d seen Jean lost for words.

“Err…what…what was your favourite TV program?” Jean stuttered.

Bradley looked confused for a moment, trying to see how relevant his favourite TV program was to what he’d just revealed to Jean. His eyebrows shot up when it dawned on him that Jean was referring to what he’d said about getting fucked whilst watching his favourite TV program.

“Really? That’s all you got from all that I’ve said…”

Jean groaned. “Still processing, okay?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“Okay.” Bradley nodded. After all the years he didn’t think even he was done processing.

“How did you survive?” Jean asked.