I don’t know how to explain the whole thing, so I’ll come right out and say it.  My mother was a pimp.  Well sorta, kinda.  Hell!  It’s complicated!

My mother, Sophie, was a single mother to me, her only child.  My name is Carl and I was sixteen years old at the time I write of; actually, almost seventeen.  I had another year of high school to go.  My mother had no education, and when my father ran out on us, the only job she could get was as a part-time retail clerk in a department store.

She had no idea that she was doing it, but she made me realize the importance of an education.  I worked my ass off to get top grades, hoping to earn a scholarship somewhere.  I swore that if I didn’t get a scholarship, I’d find a job, any kind of job, get out of this miserable household, and go to college at night.

It should come as no surprise that we were always late with the rent, and we were constantly on the brink of being evicted.   Of course, my mother blamed me.  She felt that I should forget about school, and get a job to help out, but I had loftier ambitions.

We lived in a high rise which was near to being a slum.  It had thirty-two units.   Our landlord, Ken, was always on our backs to come up with the rent, and his threat of eviction grew stronger every day.  Like my mother, Ken had no education, but the lucky guy had inherited the building from his grandfather who raised him. 

The threat of eviction wasn’t the worst of it.  Here’s what was going on with Ken.  He was about thirty years old, and very good looking, but he was gay, and he was always coming on to me.  I was totally straight and the thought of having sex with him or any other man, for that matter, made me want to barf.  As the rent situation worsened, Ken started hinting that he would accept sex with me in lieu of rent.  He didn’t actually say anything to me, but he told my mother.  She jumped at the opportunity.  Of course she did.  It would resolve her dilemma, but the whole idea made me sick. 

She always told me that I was lazy, but she started to badger me more than ever for not contributing to our household expenses.  One day, she actually said to me, “You lazy son-of-a-bitch, what would hurt you to have sex with Ken, and pay the rent for a change?”

“Never,” I came back at her.

-2-

I think my declaration of non-cooperation fell on deaf ears.  One afternoon, she was at work, and I was seated at the kitchen table studying for a big exam scheduled for the following day.  Ken let himself into our apartment with a pass key.  I was shocked to say the least.

“What are you doing here?  What do you want?” I asked, even though I had a good idea.

“Your mother and I have come to an agreement,” he smirked at me.  “For every time I get to fuck you, my pretty little pussy boy, I’ll give her credit for one month’s rent.  Today is our first installment.  Either you agree or you’re both out on your asses tomorrow.  In case you want to do the math, you’re six months delinquent, so this is the first of six sessions.  By the time you catch up, you’ll probably owe me more.”

He took my hand and led me into my bedroom.  He started to undress, and ordered me to do the same.  He was twice as big as I, so I had to obey.  When we were both naked, he enveloped me in his arms, and began to fondle my cock. 

I was shocked.  I thought he would be rough, and rape me, but he was being very gentle.  I didn’t say anything to him, but I was grateful that he wasn’t abusing me, and I relaxed a bit.  Besides, I was enjoying having my cock fondled as long as I fantasized that it was Susan Stark fondling me.  Susan was a classmate, and I had the hots for her.

I was still a virgin to sex with a male or a female, but I made a conscious decision not to resist him.  He was being gentle, and I didn’t want to risk irking him, and cause him to become violent.

“Let’s get into your bed,” he said, “and I want you to fondle me like I’m fondling you.  I’m also going to suck your cock and fuck you, and I expect you to do that to me.”

“Please don’t make me do that,” I begged, “I’m straight.  I think I’m going to vomit.”

Ken broke out laughing.  “Listen, squirt,” he said.  “You’re going to love it and beg for more.” 

I sincerely doubted it, but I kept my mouth shut.

He laid me down on my back and climbed on top of me.  I expected to have my ribs crushed, but I hardly felt him.  He maneuvered himself so that our cocks were rubbing together.  I was nearly fully mature.  My cock was cut and about six inches hard.  I’d say he was about seven inches hard, and uncut.  So far, the experience of feeling my cock duel with his was turning me on.  Bottom line, I was a sixteen year old boy, everything turned me on.  Even so, when I thought of him entering my ass or my mouth, I shuddered.

“I’m going to suck your cock now,” he said.  “Pay careful attention, because then you’re going to suck me.”

“No, please,” I cried.  “Don’t make me do that.”

“Stop whining,” he admonished me.  “We’re also going to fuck each other, and you’re going to want more.  Next time, you’ll beg me to make love with you.”

Then he said something which blew my mind.  “Please don’t resist me,” he pleaded.  “I love you.  I’ve loved you since I met you.  I want to make love with you very badly.  I promise not to hurt you, but that means you have to be willing to make love with me also.  It’s not my intention to harm you, but rather to give you as much pleasure as possible.”

His confession of love left me speechless.  I couldn’t conceive of a man loving another man.  Sex yes, but love no.  I guess he took my silence as a green light to proceed.  He started to kiss his way down my body.  I didn’t want to do it, but he had me purring.  He sucked inside my ears, my innie, my toes, and finally, my balls.  He stayed away from my cock for a while and then I felt it.  He was running his tongue up and down my shaft.  He would stop from time to time and lick my balls and the crack of my ass.  I felt myself cumming, and the bastard stopped sucking me.

“You’re not fair.” I whimpered.

“Patience, my beauty,” he said. 

His pants were on the floor.  He retrieved a tube of lube and a pack of condoms from the pocket, and rolled one down my prick.  He straddled me and started to guide my cock into his ass as he sat down on me.

“When I fuck you,” he said, “I’ll use lots of lube, but I want to be fucked dry and hard.”  With that he started to move up and down.  I was still harboring some resentment and some revulsion, but I began to pick up the rhythm, and I came faster than I wanted to.  It felt wonderful, but now I would have to do it to him, and I grew even more frightened than I had been.

He leaned over and placed his lips on mine.  He started to kiss me with a closed mouth.  At first I was revolted, but his kisses gained passion.  He opened his lips and began to tickle my tongue with his.  That did it.  I was a goner, and I knew that I would do whatever he asked of me.

In spite of my surrender, my mind was working overtime.  I wondered if he had turned me gay or if I was just lost in the heat of so passionate a moment.

I didn’t let my thoughts linger long.  He disengaged himself from me, and said, “Now it’s your turn to make love to me.”  I didn’t think that we had done so far was an act of love, and I panicked again.

He didn’t ask me to make love to his whole body as he had done to me, but he put his hand on the back of my head, and guided me to his cock.

“Suck it,” he said.

I knew that there was no escape.  I had to go through with it.  I tried to repeat everything he had done to me, except I couldn’t get up the nerve to lick his ass crack.  I did lick his balls and run my tongue up and down his shaft.  It was revolting to me, but I must confess, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.  Maybe it was because he smelled so good.  I’m certain he washed and perfumed himself before he started to have sex with me.  I still thought of it as unwanted sex, but I knew that from his point of view, he was making love to me.

He stopped me before he could cum.  He laid me on my back again, and greased my ass with the lube.  Then he put on a condom, and greased his cock up good.  He took a well lubed finger and put it up my ass.  He began to ream it, and it didn’t feel bad at all. 

He asked if he had hurt me.  The bastard kept surprising me with how concerned he was for my well-being.  I told him that I felt fine, and that it actually felt good, so he inserted another greasy finger.  Now I hurt, but he began to stretch me again and the pain ebbed.  When I told him I was feeling okay, he inserted a third finger and I screamed out in severe pain.  I thought he would take his fingers out, but again, he started to ream and stretch me, and the pain slowly disappeared.

When I told him that I was doing fine, he took all his fingers out.  I was relieved and dared hope that he had changed his mind.  How wrong I was.  He placed his cock at my opening and started to push in ever so slowly.

I didn’t hurt as badly as when he first inserted his fingers.  Before I knew it, he was all the way in, but he held perfectly still.

“How do you feel, Love?” he asked me again.

He called me ‘Love’ and I cringed. 

“I’m fine,” I said icily.  “Do what you came to do.”

He started stroking in and out.  Suddenly a feeling of immense sexual pleasure came over me, and I started to push as he stroked.  I felt so good that I didn’t want him to stop.  Neither of us had control of the situation.  Ken came fast and furiously, filling the condom to capacity and seeping out some.

The man gave me one surprise after another.  He lay on top of me crying like a baby and kissing me like a lover.

“Why are you crying?” I asked.

“Because I love you so much.”  He was too choked up to say more, and I was too flabbergasted to say anything at all.

Reluctantly, he rolled off of me.  He got out of bed and started to put his clothes on.  “Clean up, and get dressed,” he said.  “I want you to continue to study for that test.”  How did he know about that?  “Get an A for me,” he added.  “I’m going back to my apartment before your mother gets home.  I’ll see her in the morning and tell her that I’ve comped one month.”

When I got home from school the next afternoon, my mother pounced on me.  She smothered me with kisses and thanked me for saving the day.

“Listen,” I said.  “I don’t care if we end up on the streets.  I’m never going to do it again.”  I wasn’t so sure about that, but I said it nonetheless.

“Fucking lazy ingrate,” she spat at me. 

Instead of being appalled I laughed in her face.  Ken said that he loved me.  I knew that he would never let me live in the streets, but I wasn’t certain about her.  She stormed out of the apartment.  I was sure she was headed for her favorite bar.

As soon as she left, there was a knock on the door.  It was Ken.  I was surprised that he didn’t barge in with his passkey as he had the night before.  He enveloped me in his strong arms and held me close.  He put his cheek on mine and I knew he was crying again.

“Why are you crying?” I asked.  “I told you that I was all right.  In fact, what would you say to us working off another month?”

Ken started to kiss me so hard and for so long, I was afraid we’d never have time to make love.

“Let’s go to my apartment,” he said.  “We won’t be interrupted by your mother there, and we’ll have a lot more privacy and a lot more time.”

“That’s fine,” I smiled.  “What would you think of letting me move in with you, so my mother will never interrupt us?”

Ken smiled broadly, and started to kiss me once again.  I heard him whisper, “Thank you, Lord.”

I still identified myself as being straight, so I wondered what the future held.  I decided to live one day at a time, and see how it all played out.  For sure I knew that Ken made me very happy, and he kept telling me how happy I made him.

-3-

Ken and I moved my meager stuff into his apartment that very day.  I thought my mother would be pissed off, but she seemed relieved of a great burden.  She also felt secure in the knowledge that her son’s boyfriend would never evict her.  I always thought that Ken was a hard-hearted bastard, but he assured me in private, that he would never do that to her.  In public, he continued to press my mom for rent money, and to threaten her with eviction.

Unlike my mother, Ken made sure that I studied hard, and I continued to ace all my courses.  He told me that he hoped I would have a future life much better than the one he had.  When he said that, I hugged him hard and this time, I started to cry.  Who wouldn’t cry?  Ken had rescued me from hell.

Of course, we slept in the same bed, but Ken would not make love with me until he was certain that I had done all my homework.  Little by little I stopped feeling revolted at all the things we did to each other.  I actually began to look forward to it.  I even initiated sex a few times when Ken wasn’t up to it.  I had to remember that he was fourteen years older than I was, and he needed more recovery time.  I never saw Ken so happy, and I took all the credit for making him that way.

One day, it struck me like a bolt of lightning.  I was in love with Ken also.  I finally realized that it was possible for two men to love each other.  I stopped trying to decide if I was straight or gay.  I really didn’t care.

What I learned is that making love to someone is not motivated by sexual orientation.  Love is the reason that motivates two people to desire each other and to make love.  The gender of the two lovers is not the important factor.  In fact, it’s immaterial.

On the night of my enlightenment, I made love to Ken as passionately as he made love to me.  He must have recognized the difference, because he started to cry again, and once more I heard him whisper, “Thank you, Lord.”