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The emotion was too high. I clenched my fists and wanted to strike Brian but he unexpectedly held me tightly. ‘I love you,’ he said out of the blue. ‘I always have.’ He pulled my head onto his shoulder and I felt him running his hands down my spine and over my ass cheeks. ‘I cannot just let you go. And in any event, like it or not, you are gay now.’‘No,’ I screamed. But I knew the truth. I had wanked, sucked and now been buggered for money. I was not just gay but potentially, a rent boy. Brian held me closer and stroked me lovingly. He felt my cock rise as I surrendered to him and my fate. He started rubbing it furiously until after several minutes, cum spurt out over his hand. For several minutes, he hugged me and then Brian led me to his room. I recall laying on his bed, my head spinning from alcohol and the happenings that day. He got under the duvet and threw it over me. With my back turned, he hugged and petted me. He was tender and loving. Brian moved his fingers to my sore. I kissed him as passionately as he did me, running my hands all over his body before he grabbed me by the wrists and turned me round, pushing me over on to my hands and knees. I instinctively pushed my ass up into the air, after my mind running through sleeping with him again for the past few days I was desperate to feel him inside me. He quickly dropped to his knees and without warning thrust his hard pulsing cock deep inside me. I yelped slightly as I felt it pound as deep as it could go. He did not slow down, he violently pushed harder and harder each time, even though I didnt think that would be possible. He reached forward and grabbed my long blonde hair, twisting his fingers round before using it to yank my head backwards. Just that movement made me moan and I felt the slight wetness that oozed out of me because of it. He moved faster, slamming into me as I started to moan. My toes went cold, my knees felt like they were going to give way, my whole body tingled as I shivered.
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I was suddenly startled back from my thoughts. ‘Would you like some more tea?’ With that, I knew this conversation was over. ‘Yes, thank you Mother.’ As she went to the kitchen, I got the distinct impression she felt she said too much. She knew the precise moment when to interfere with my train of thought to prevent me from asking follow up questions. To prevent me from over analyzing what was discussed. She was ordering me to let it go. As if on cue, there came a knocking at the door. It could only be one person. My mother set the tea down and answered it and in walked my father. Normally at the sound of the knock, I was conditioned to go to my room. My parents had business to discuss. Not this time. I held firm, trying to show the same stone façade my mother displays as to hide the seething I’m feeling inside. I doubt I was successful. ‘Good evening Sara.’ I could tell he was displeased I was still in the room in his presence. My mother shot me a look and I made my way to my.

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