Crush (38 page)

In spite of how the photos arouse us, we somehow manage to abstain from sexual gratification the whole night before our wedding, taking titillating pleasure instead in acting like two chaste virgins who have never known one another. I staywith Mom in one room while Jamie stays with Stacyin the other.

Yeah, right! We all crowd into one suite for half the night, watching movies on TNT, ordering in three loaded pizzas, drinking beer and soda, munching on nacho chips, burping, farting, guffawing loudly (all except Jamie, who whisper-laughs) and gabbing about how nervous we are about the wedding.

“I’ll probably rip an extra loud cheer the minute I get up there…all this shit I’m eating!”
Aunt Sharon snorts, and I’m not sure if she’s laughing or disgusted. Natalie giggles.
“Oh, Tammy, for pity’s sake,” Mom protests.
“Pizza? Bean dip? Beer?” I howl. “I didn’t even think to bring anyBeano with me!”
“It’s going to be fun, no matter what,” Stacy says, her mouth full of pizza. “We’ll all no doubt be honking like seventy-six trombones!”
In the morning, we split into two teams. Jamie, Stacy and Natalie vamoose to their room to get ready for our one o’clock ceremony. Mom and Aunt Sharon fuss with me over my hair, my teeth, a single zit which, thanks to the pizza, has sprouted on my chin overnight, my black tux and how to tie the perfect bow at my

“When I first found out about you and Jamie,” Mom murmurs as she works with the tie, “I thought it was weird…I just couldn’t picture it…you being in love with another boy…Then, the day he woke up…I saw how he looked at you and you looked at him…it was the sweetest thing I’d ever seen…”

Myeyes burn and mythroat tries to close. I pull mymother to me and whisper, my voice thick with emotion, “I love you, Mom.” She nods, begins to cry. Aunt Sharon stands aside sheepishly, but I grab her. “Get over here.”

It feels so good to be loved for who I am…it feels so good to have a family. I’d thought I didn’t need these people, but I was wrong. I do need them. I’ve always needed them. Theywere there for us when Jamie was attacked. They’re gonna be here when Jamie and I get married. They’re going to be here when we need them. They’re going to make us strong.

We have an outdoor ceremonyat a modest chapel onlythree blocks from the hotel. The patio is completelyshaded, and there’s still snow smashed up against the fence. It’s almost too cold for what Jamie is wearing, a beautiful white shirt, as snowy as the satin we took photos with, and white jeans.

As I wait for my cue to march with Mom, my boss hugs me. “My son is gay. We had a fight when he came out to me three years ago, and we haven’t spoken since…I said things I shouldn’t have, but I still love him. I want to call him.” He struggles to keep his voice steady. “How do I call him, Tam? How do I tell him that I’m sorry, and that I love him for who he is? I’m so afraid he’ll cuss me and hang up.”

“You just gotta take that chance,” I tell him. “Do it…I’ll bet he wants to talk to you just as badly.”
We have family that has nothing to do with blood or heredity. It’s such a wonderful, happy day for me, but I’m sad too. I’m sad that Ray and Lydia were people we never really knew. They won’t be sharing this important daywith us. Instead, they’re going to jail. I’m sad because my biological dad is ashamed of me, ashamed of the way I live and love, and doesn’t care to know me. I’m sad because if I had stayed in town instead of moving to L.A., I would have known Lloyd as the Dad I never had. I feel like he’s up there watching us as Mom walks me down the aisle. When I see Jamie and Stacycoming, I almost lose it. He looks like a spectral waif in all white, his big, wide eyes set off by eyeliner and mascara, his plump lips lightlypainted in an earthy, rosy-brown. He got his hair cut a little before the wedding, and his honeyed locks are flowing and curling softlyjust past his ears.
Stacy and Natalie, who also has a pretty voice, sing our wedding songs for us: “AGroovy Kind Of Love” and Elton John’s “The One.”
I’ve written out myvows to him. “You and I have been through hell and back over the past few weeks, over the past sixteen years…I know we can do this. I
know
it. I know I can love you forever, whether we’re rich or poor, healthy or sick, for better or worse, whether you’re sweet or in a foul mood…I can love you.”
Jamie cries because the judge has to read his vows. When he slips the ring he got me, a simple, wide gold band, over my finger, I crytoo. Later, I take it off and read the tinyinscription:

To my husband, my friend, my lover, my soul-mate. My dream has come true, because you love me. I’ll love you forever, Jamie.

I’ve given him a ring too, of course, but my real gift I want to give him tonight. It’s something I’ve wanted to do
for a long, long time
.

I’m as patient as I can be, but when the sun goes down and they’re still hanging around our room, I have to shoo Mom and Stace out. There’s no point in trying to be demure, so I just say, “Mom? Stace? Go home!” They chortle and stare from me to Jamie. “Let’s go eat!” Mom says to Stacy.

“Sounds good to me!” Stacychirps. “Sure you two don’t want to come along?”
“No,” I answer for both of us. I see the anxiety creeping into Jamie’s eyes already.
I temper myimpatience, trying to be forbearing for as long as it takes for me to talk him into letting me do it.And I know it’s going to take a while. “I don’t blame you for being nervous,” I growl as I slip myarms around him from behind. “I’m planning on giving you a night you won’t forget.” I turn him around in my arms and he shyly touches my tie, still tied in its perfect bow. The tiniest brush of his fingers against my neck makes me shudder. Slowly, we take off each other’s clothes. I can feel my eyes smoldering like coals as I stare at him.
It’s like he is a virgin all over again as he plants both hands on mychest and tries to put some distance between us. “I want to taste you, Jamie. I want to taste you tonight, every part of you. You know what that means, don’t you?” He quivers as I nibble his neck, but I feel the struggle.
“Please, Jamie…let me…let me do this for you…let me show you how
wonderful
you are.”
Only if you let me do it to you first
, he scribbles on his notepad.
“I’ll let you do it to me, then you’ll sayyou’re too tired to let me do it to you.” I argue.

You’ve given me more gifts than I’ve given you
, he insists.
Let me give you my gift first.
I don’t argue. After all, I’m a man. What man do you know who would refuse a blow job? Sigh! Except
Jamie
?!
Bythe time he’s finished with me, I’m panting and wheezing, spent, and very happy…unsure of whether or not I’ll be able to muster up the oomph I’m going to need for him. I’ve never gone down on a man before, but this is something I want as much as mynext breath.
And of course, he tries to back out.
If you’re tired, you can do it some other time. I don’t mind,
he scrawls dubiously.
Yeah, uh-huh! He wouldn’t mind if I
never
did it to him.
I’d say,
Oh, he’s so unselfish…to be willing to suck me off and then forego being sucked off by me.
But that’s crap.
He’s afraid, that’s all it is…
I’ve
got
to show him what he’s missing.
I want to take him to a place he’s never been.
We end up having a terrible episode with him locking himself in the bathroom and crying. I coaxand encourage him for at least a half hour before he begins talking in a croaking frog’s voice about feeling like a child molesting pervert.
From my side of the bathroom door, I gently scold him, “You’re
not
a child molester…I’ve seen
your
soul too, Jamie…you would never hurt a child…you’re not evil…you’re a good, beautiful person…”
“Am I talking?!” he suddenlycries.
“Yes,” I answer. “You’re talking.”
He bursts out of the bathroom and throws his arms around me, and I exhale in relief as I tenderly lay him down on the seagreen satin comforter on our king-sized hotel bed. “Do you want your blanket?” I ask him. He nods, frightened into immobility again, supine, his hands raised over his face as if to prepare for an attack, or to cover his eyes like he does whenever I attempt something sexual he’s afraid of.
Well…he’s letting you do this
, I tell myself.
He might be scared, but…he’s trying…he’s trying to make you happy…that’s
something
…
I hand him his blue velour blanket. “Do you want it under your bottom?” I ask softly. He nods, and I lift him and slide it into place. He grasps a piece of the velour softness in each hand, holds on for dear life.
“I can talk to you all through this, Jamie,” I whisper. “I don’t want you to be afraid. The last thing I will ever do is hurt you.”
He nods, tears slanting towards the green pillowcase.
Remembering the lessons I’ve secretlytaken from him every time he’s given me head, I nibble and kiss my way up and down his body, slowly. There’s no rush. “We have all night,” I tell him in a smokywhisper. His bodyshakes as I gentlybite his nipples, kiss his belly, feeling the muscles jerking and quivering under me. I divert from mydue south direction to taste the pale silk of his inner thigh, the soft blonde hairs tickling my lips. “Okay…now remember, I’m not going to hurt you…”
And I go for him, gently, softly. He’s so pretty down there, so firm yet so soft, the very tip of him flaring out, like a roseate mushroom, the warm, frenzied blood congregating readily. His mind is reluctant, but his body can’t argue and it can’t hide from me. I can sense the tiny seedlings germinating within him as I kiss him, like I kiss his mouth, my tongue gently dabbing and sponging over the little cluster of nerves just beneath the pink velvet tip. My own cock throbs joyously against the crook of his knee, in time to an entrancing, ethereal music playing, vibrating in mysoul like a bell.
I hear him sobbing. “It’s okay, Baby,” I sing between soft, sucking kisses. “God made you, Jamie…He made
every part
of you…No part of you is dirty…He made the human body to
enjoy
sex…” I suck hard against the side of him, suck his skin against my teeth. His lungs sob deep…I feel him tense like a rope pulled taut. “In fact…this is the holiest place on your body…Did you know that, Baby?” I taste the clear, salty nectar weeping from him like tears. It’s sublime. “That’s why you thought you were dirty…
because they sinned against you
…You’re delicious…not dirty…You’re beautiful, Jamie…You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in mylife…”
Now mymouth closes over him to take him deeper, and I say no more, too busy reveling in the taste, the heat, the
life
of him…
He’s alive!
I cryinside.
He’s alive
…the wayhe fills mymouth and throat, the wayhe pulses and swells as more blood fills him, finds its wayinto the millions of tinycaverns and crevices of him. I feel his hands playing with my hair. I hear his hoarse sobs of anguish and rapture as I increase both the tempo and the vigor of what I’m doing. He squirms and claws at me as my tongue flickers savagelyover that little bundle of nerve endings. I hear him beginning to whisper, “Please…please…please…please, Tammy…”
“Please what?” I ask sweetly, menacingly, loathe to stop, my mouth watering the instant I release him to ask the tinyquestion.
He lays below me, chanting, sobbing, “Please…please… please…please…”
“I want you to cream right into my mouth,” I snarl gently, my greedy tongue lapping, dragging, curling around him. “Come on, Baby…I know you’re ready…come on…come inside mymouth…”
He pants and convulses and silently wails as I work him over. He arches his back so high he nearly snaps his spine. “Please…Tammy…Please…”And he begins to scream shrillyas I gulp the honeyed essence of him down in warm, hungry, luscious swallows.
When the last weak little spurt of semen has left his body, I release him and hastilycrawl up to gather him up against me.
I had known he’d cry the minute I’d decided I wanted to do this to him,
for
him. Now I hold him. I don’t ask questions, I don’t tell him not to cry. It’s taken real courage for him to allow himself to be this vulnerable with me, and I’m so humbled and awe-struck I can’t speak right now anyway.
I let him cryas long as he needs to, and finally, he raises his head, shakes it sadly.
“Are you okay?” I whisper, brushing mylips against the damp tangles of his hair.
He looks around franticallyfor his notepad and scribbles,
I’m trying, Tammy. I’m trying to get over what they did
.
“You’re
not
your father,” I tell him as sternlyas if I’m talking to a child, maybe a little too sternly. “You are not a dirty perverted creep who rapes children! You are my husband.
That’s
who you are! God, Jamie…if only you could see yourself the way I see you…if onlyyou
knew
…”
With an aghast frown, he touches his finger to my chin. “What?” I ask softly. When he brings it away, I see he’s dipped it into a dollop of creamy, iridescent sperm that’s still sticking to my chin. I take his finger, my eyes on his, and suck it into my mouth, onto my tongue, moaning at his pungent taste. “I’m telling you, you’re not dirty, you’re delicious. And you’re mine.” I catch the tender pad of his finger between my teeth and bite softly, smiling at him. A gasp escapes him, and his eyelids droop almost sleepily, over eyes glazed with pleasure, the pupils opening, dark and languid. His breath comes in warm, excited bursts. His perfect mouth quivers east and west into a smile that makes my cock throb harder as he pulls his hand away and attacks me so wildly I don’t even have time to utter a cry of surprise. His tongue plunders mymouth as we roll all over the bed. I barelyhave time to arrange his soft little blanket under his ass before his legs are spread-eagle, his bodybent into a “V” beneath mine as I fuck him like a jackhammer.
He screams again as we come simultaneously, his voice feral and keening. Our orgasm lasts a small eternity, leaving my cock both tinglynumb and chafed and hyper-sensitized.
Jamie lays in myarms, mute again, but smiling so blissfully, so radiantly, that I know there’s hope for him.
After a little bit, he writes in his notepad,
I thought I was the wife
, and giggles in his throatyway.