Saturday Morning
I have disgraced my family and turned my back on everything
I have ever known and I would do it all again because Shon is
worth it. I roll over and gaze at him. He spent the night at my
place for the first time in our six year relationship and I can't
wait to walk out the front door with my hand in his. It feels
good to be free to love him and whatever sadness I once had about
moving forward has been obliterated by the intense happiness and
abundant sense of satisfaction I have received from finally
owning my life. I have so many things to make up to him and there
are so many memories I wish I could erase from his mind and mine
as well. He tolerated more than any man should have to and he did
it because he loved me and he had faith that one day I would
outgrow my shame and stand up for myself and him. He is
undoubtedly my savior and he will forever be my hero. The future
may not find us together but I owe whatever future I do have to
him and his unwavering patience.
I close my eyes and try to envision how we must look. I see
an average sized Latino lying on his side under a thin white
sheet that only covers half of his body. In front of the Latin
guy is a 5'7" black guy with skin the color of dark chocolate.
The sheet drapes across the black guy's hips and creates a
contrast of color and texture and shape that begs to be drawn by
an artist and captured as a thing of beauty or photographed and
framed as a priceless work of art. Everything about the black
guy, my Shon, is beautiful. His almond colored eyes are set
beneath thick black eyebrows. His round nose is perched between
two high cheek bones and his thick lips are luscious. I open my
eyes and see that his lips are beginning to form a smile.
His deep voice rumbles through the air with a warm, "Good
morning." His eyes sparkle and it is obvious he also understands
the symbolism of this simple moment. This moment that has been
denied for so long. If we can have this moment it seems possible
that we can have anything. I watch his plush lips part again, "I
said good morning."
I sigh to myself because he's real and he's here and he's
mine. "It is indeed," I reply.
"It feels strange, being here, like this." His hand finds
mine and he begins playing with my fingers. "I keep waiting for
someone to knock down the door and tell me I need to leave."
A tiny part of me is also waiting for the same thing but I
am confident that our moment is secure. I no longer matter to
anyone except him so there is no one who will come looking for
me. Not after what I said. Not after what I did. I told them all
in no uncertain terms that I was choosing Shon over them. They
were angry at first, then they were hurt and then they were
hurtful. I was kicked out of the house and warned to never
return. My father didn't understand why I was smiling. I had
allowed my parents to dominate my life and dictate who I was and
for the first time in my twenty-six years of existence, I stood
tall and proclaimed my independence. I wanted them in my life
because they had always been there, but I didn't need them. I
didn't need their okay, I didn't need their understanding, I
didn't need their prayers or their sympathy for my poor soul
which was destined to burn in hell, prostrated on Satan's
pitchfork according to my father. All I needed from them was to
look in their eyes and be confident that they finally saw the
real me. Take it or leave it, I was their son. They chose to
leave it and that was okay because I assumed they wouldn't want
the defective me. I knew they weren't strong enough, weren't
brave enough, weren't open-minded enough to ask questions. The
priest said homosexuality was an abomination and my parents
accepted his words as gospel. He was in, I was out, literally and
figuratively.
"Don't think about it," Shon says as his thumb wipes away
the tears before they have time to run down my face. "Maybe
they'll come around."
His words elicit a sad laugh from me, "God himself would
have to tell them to love me."
"Maybe we should pray for your parents and hope that God
will see fit to enlighten them."
God is our one major disagreement. My parents, my priest, my
church and my upbringing have all spoiled me on the idea of God.
I lost my faith or gave it away, it doesn't matter. All I know is
that it's gone. Shon however has a fervent belief in the
existence of God and he holds steadfast to his belief that God
loves all of his children, including us. For every reason I give
him about how God hates us, he gives me at least two reasons to
the contrary. I know the Bible can be interpreted in many ways,
but I think Shon has created his own version because he is truly
in his own world. I read Revelations and remember death and
destruction and the promise that I will suffer for offending God
and Shon reads Revelations and remembers salvation and the
promise of redemption. I keep trying to explain to Shon that God
does not love us but he believes God's love knows no bounds. I
know he is wrong and I am right.
Thankfully Shon is not fanatical about religion. He accepts
his homosexuality and he fornicates and he is lustful and there
is an entire list of sinful things he does but he says he has
made his peace with God. He's more devoted than a "Sunday
Christian" but he's not obsessed. He doesn't try to force his
faith on me. He understands my faith has taken some serious blows
mostly due to the fact that God took my family away from me. Shon
says I'm looking at it all wrong but he hasn't had the
experiences I have. His mother loved him unconditionally. When he
told her he liked boys she told him he should treat it like any
other sin and ask God for strength to fight it. When she realized
not even God was strong enough to suppress Shon's urges for men,
she told him his sin was no worse than anyone else's and we are
all sinners. His mother has him believing as long as he repents
and asks for God's forgiveness everyday, he will be okay and God
will grant him salvation. I think she has really screwed up his
head.
I sigh and then I reach under the covers and take hold of
him. "How about you pray for them while I take care of this?"
"That wouldn't be right."
"Fine, don't pray for them." I cannot believe I have him in
my bed and I can do whatever I want with him or to him. Before
last night sex between us had always been rushed because I was in
a hurry to get my shameful actions over with and after we were
done I would get up and leave and run back to my place in order
to deal with the intense feelings of guilt for both wanting and
needing that kind of affection from another man. I knew I loved
Shon a few months in to our relationship but I only would say it
during sex because I rationalized that saying it during the heat
of the moment made it less authentic. This morning is different
though because I want him to know I mean it. I stroke him a few
times then I look directly in to his eyes and say, "I love you."
It feels good to say it without panting.
"I think that's obvious," he says with a smile.
"I must love you, to give up what I"
"Happy thoughts, remember?"
"I woke up with you in my bed. How could I think of anything
happier?"
"Awww, you're so sweet." He leans in and gives me a soft,
tender, slightly lingering peck on my lips. The cloud that once
showered us with tension and rained on all intimate contact has
been lifted and the kiss is just a kiss. I never thought I would
see the day when I could relax completely and cherish his
presence for the blessing it was and accept his kisses as
miniature messages of his love. Everything is slower now and
simpler. I appreciate the hours, the minutes, the seconds and
most importantly, the moments. All time spent with Shon
rejuvenates my heart and fills my lungs with the fresh air I need
in order to live. It seems as if I have spent my entire life
slowly building towards us being together and I wonder if I have
reached the climax of my life prematurely and if the road ahead
will plateau or simply vanish from beneath me and send me in to a
free fall. Shon begins caressing my cheek. His calloused fingers
could exfoliate my skin and I love that hint of roughness that
accompanies even his gentlest touches. "I see your little brain
working," he says, "stop worrying."
"I'm not worrying, I'm thinking." Having him stare at me and
observe my every move makes me want to finish the slow
stimulation I am giving him under the covers. "How can you make
me feel this good?"
"Because you love me," he whispers.
"Why are you whispering? It's not a secret anymore."
"You love me!" he shouts.
I laugh, "Say it a little louder, I don't think the
neighbors heard you."
He stops caressing my cheek and places his hand on my hip,
"Do you want them to hear me?" he jokes.
"Only if you're screaming my name, 'Oh Juan! Ay Papi!'"
His laughter shakes the bed, "I'm never calling you Papi."
I tighten my fingers around his cock and stroke harder, "I
think I can convince you to say it."
"You keep doing that and you can convince me to say just
about anything."
Buy the rest of this story at Amazon.com.
Take me to Bed: Saturday Morning by LT Ville
I have ever known and I would do it all again because Shon is
worth it. I roll over and gaze at him. He spent the night at my
place for the first time in our six year relationship and I can't
wait to walk out the front door with my hand in his. It feels
good to be free to love him and whatever sadness I once had about
moving forward has been obliterated by the intense happiness and
abundant sense of satisfaction I have received from finally
owning my life. I have so many things to make up to him and there
are so many memories I wish I could erase from his mind and mine
as well. He tolerated more than any man should have to and he did
it because he loved me and he had faith that one day I would
outgrow my shame and stand up for myself and him. He is
undoubtedly my savior and he will forever be my hero. The future
may not find us together but I owe whatever future I do have to
him and his unwavering patience.
I close my eyes and try to envision how we must look. I see
an average sized Latino lying on his side under a thin white
sheet that only covers half of his body. In front of the Latin
guy is a 5'7" black guy with skin the color of dark chocolate.
The sheet drapes across the black guy's hips and creates a
contrast of color and texture and shape that begs to be drawn by
an artist and captured as a thing of beauty or photographed and
framed as a priceless work of art. Everything about the black
guy, my Shon, is beautiful. His almond colored eyes are set
beneath thick black eyebrows. His round nose is perched between
two high cheek bones and his thick lips are luscious. I open my
eyes and see that his lips are beginning to form a smile.
His deep voice rumbles through the air with a warm, "Good
morning." His eyes sparkle and it is obvious he also understands
the symbolism of this simple moment. This moment that has been
denied for so long. If we can have this moment it seems possible
that we can have anything. I watch his plush lips part again, "I
said good morning."
I sigh to myself because he's real and he's here and he's
mine. "It is indeed," I reply.
"It feels strange, being here, like this." His hand finds
mine and he begins playing with my fingers. "I keep waiting for
someone to knock down the door and tell me I need to leave."
A tiny part of me is also waiting for the same thing but I
am confident that our moment is secure. I no longer matter to
anyone except him so there is no one who will come looking for
me. Not after what I said. Not after what I did. I told them all
in no uncertain terms that I was choosing Shon over them. They
were angry at first, then they were hurt and then they were
hurtful. I was kicked out of the house and warned to never
return. My father didn't understand why I was smiling. I had
allowed my parents to dominate my life and dictate who I was and
for the first time in my twenty-six years of existence, I stood
tall and proclaimed my independence. I wanted them in my life
because they had always been there, but I didn't need them. I
didn't need their okay, I didn't need their understanding, I
didn't need their prayers or their sympathy for my poor soul
which was destined to burn in hell, prostrated on Satan's
pitchfork according to my father. All I needed from them was to
look in their eyes and be confident that they finally saw the
real me. Take it or leave it, I was their son. They chose to
leave it and that was okay because I assumed they wouldn't want
the defective me. I knew they weren't strong enough, weren't
brave enough, weren't open-minded enough to ask questions. The
priest said homosexuality was an abomination and my parents
accepted his words as gospel. He was in, I was out, literally and
figuratively.
"Don't think about it," Shon says as his thumb wipes away
the tears before they have time to run down my face. "Maybe
they'll come around."
His words elicit a sad laugh from me, "God himself would
have to tell them to love me."
"Maybe we should pray for your parents and hope that God
will see fit to enlighten them."
God is our one major disagreement. My parents, my priest, my
church and my upbringing have all spoiled me on the idea of God.
I lost my faith or gave it away, it doesn't matter. All I know is
that it's gone. Shon however has a fervent belief in the
existence of God and he holds steadfast to his belief that God
loves all of his children, including us. For every reason I give
him about how God hates us, he gives me at least two reasons to
the contrary. I know the Bible can be interpreted in many ways,
but I think Shon has created his own version because he is truly
in his own world. I read Revelations and remember death and
destruction and the promise that I will suffer for offending God
and Shon reads Revelations and remembers salvation and the
promise of redemption. I keep trying to explain to Shon that God
does not love us but he believes God's love knows no bounds. I
know he is wrong and I am right.
Thankfully Shon is not fanatical about religion. He accepts
his homosexuality and he fornicates and he is lustful and there
is an entire list of sinful things he does but he says he has
made his peace with God. He's more devoted than a "Sunday
Christian" but he's not obsessed. He doesn't try to force his
faith on me. He understands my faith has taken some serious blows
mostly due to the fact that God took my family away from me. Shon
says I'm looking at it all wrong but he hasn't had the
experiences I have. His mother loved him unconditionally. When he
told her he liked boys she told him he should treat it like any
other sin and ask God for strength to fight it. When she realized
not even God was strong enough to suppress Shon's urges for men,
she told him his sin was no worse than anyone else's and we are
all sinners. His mother has him believing as long as he repents
and asks for God's forgiveness everyday, he will be okay and God
will grant him salvation. I think she has really screwed up his
head.
I sigh and then I reach under the covers and take hold of
him. "How about you pray for them while I take care of this?"
"That wouldn't be right."
"Fine, don't pray for them." I cannot believe I have him in
my bed and I can do whatever I want with him or to him. Before
last night sex between us had always been rushed because I was in
a hurry to get my shameful actions over with and after we were
done I would get up and leave and run back to my place in order
to deal with the intense feelings of guilt for both wanting and
needing that kind of affection from another man. I knew I loved
Shon a few months in to our relationship but I only would say it
during sex because I rationalized that saying it during the heat
of the moment made it less authentic. This morning is different
though because I want him to know I mean it. I stroke him a few
times then I look directly in to his eyes and say, "I love you."
It feels good to say it without panting.
"I think that's obvious," he says with a smile.
"I must love you, to give up what I"
"Happy thoughts, remember?"
"I woke up with you in my bed. How could I think of anything
happier?"
"Awww, you're so sweet." He leans in and gives me a soft,
tender, slightly lingering peck on my lips. The cloud that once
showered us with tension and rained on all intimate contact has
been lifted and the kiss is just a kiss. I never thought I would
see the day when I could relax completely and cherish his
presence for the blessing it was and accept his kisses as
miniature messages of his love. Everything is slower now and
simpler. I appreciate the hours, the minutes, the seconds and
most importantly, the moments. All time spent with Shon
rejuvenates my heart and fills my lungs with the fresh air I need
in order to live. It seems as if I have spent my entire life
slowly building towards us being together and I wonder if I have
reached the climax of my life prematurely and if the road ahead
will plateau or simply vanish from beneath me and send me in to a
free fall. Shon begins caressing my cheek. His calloused fingers
could exfoliate my skin and I love that hint of roughness that
accompanies even his gentlest touches. "I see your little brain
working," he says, "stop worrying."
"I'm not worrying, I'm thinking." Having him stare at me and
observe my every move makes me want to finish the slow
stimulation I am giving him under the covers. "How can you make
me feel this good?"
"Because you love me," he whispers.
"Why are you whispering? It's not a secret anymore."
"You love me!" he shouts.
I laugh, "Say it a little louder, I don't think the
neighbors heard you."
He stops caressing my cheek and places his hand on my hip,
"Do you want them to hear me?" he jokes.
"Only if you're screaming my name, 'Oh Juan! Ay Papi!'"
His laughter shakes the bed, "I'm never calling you Papi."
I tighten my fingers around his cock and stroke harder, "I
think I can convince you to say it."
"You keep doing that and you can convince me to say just
about anything."
Buy the rest of this story at Amazon.com.
Take me to Bed: Saturday Morning by LT Ville
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