Queer Me Pt. 01

What can I tell you about myself? I was born in a small town about 100 miles North of Los Angeles. I was very nerdy as a child and picked on by other kids. My Father would beat me, my mother would scold me. I wasn't happy.

"Don't turn out like some fag!" my father would shout at me before giving me a vicious backhand slap to the face. It hurt me in many ways. The only one who was somewhat sympathetic was my older sister Irene. Though she had her moments too.

In high school I developed a lisp which added to the field day of other kids taunting me. I was no good at Physical Education either, after all I threw a ball like a girl. Many times I broke out in tears in school.

Even the teachers were malicious to me. I had no friends at all. I was an awkward teen who wore loose t-shirts and baggy jeans, and went barefoot whenever he could. Yes, barefoot.

In the small redneck town I grew up in that was one thing that wasn't frowned upon so much.

I hated wearing shoes so I rarely did. At eighteen I managed to graduate high school. Around this time my mother and Father were fighting a lot so my dad finally moved out. My mother bugged me to find a job, so I looked but couldn't find anything. Eventually I just stayed in bed until late in the afternoon every day. This lasted for two years.

My sister Irene had moved to central Los Angeles to attend college. She had a vacant room in her apartment so I moved in there, on the condition I attend a local community college, which I did.

My attendance was good the first year, but that didn't stop me from having failing grades. A sympathetic guidance counselor at least made it okay for me to retake the same courses for another year.

"You must do better this time Joey!. And wear some shoes! L.A isn't a small town!" My sister scolded me.

The second year of college didn't go any better. Midway through the year failing all my classes, I just decided to start skipping all classes, and spent all day playing video games.

I wasn't very popular in college either. I was a loner and often depressed. What I did find interesting though was one day in which I saw two male students kissing each other, and holding hands. I'd never seen gay people before. I somehow got very aroused.

My sister was very angry when she found out I'd failed yet another year of college.

"Your gonna have to get a job or move out!" She threatened.

She fumbled around in her purse and pulled out a cigarette and nervously lit it with her lighter.

I was greatly surprised!

"What's this Irene? When did you start smoking?" I asked.

"Oh, A few months ago. I'm under such stress, and besides my new boyfriend smokes." she told me, exhaling smoke through puckered lips. Her golden, shoulder length locks looking somehow disheveled.

"They stink." I said disdainfully.

"Go to hell!" she replied scornfully.

Her boyfriend Craig, a construction worker really didn't like me. He was over at our apartment a lot as well. He was a jock who always eyed me suspiciously. He drank a lot and bossed me around.

"Oh I can't work, I'm like a little girl!" He'd deride me, making fun of me with a mock lisp.

Since I wasn't working, it was my job to do the dishes, clean and buy groceries. The rest of the time I spent in my room watching television. It was very boring.

Sometimes though, my cock would get hard seeing or hearing effeminate men. I'd walk the streets barefoot thinking about this.

My bare soles, sensually touching and caressing the ground. Somehow confused, though very turned on.

When I was twenty four Craig got my sister pregnant, so I had to move out. I moved into a rooming house in West Hollywood and went on Welfare. Welfare was all I could do. I just couldn't look after myself.

There were all kinds of crazy people living in the rooming house, and I sometimes smelled the stench of Marijuana smoke.

I'd hear other tenants getting very drunk and fighting. I just nervously stayed in my room frightened. At least they didn't bug me about going barefoot.

Once when I was walking up the front stairs I heard an old drunk called Casey shout to me.

"Hey honey! You want a drink?" he cackled.

"No. I don't drink!" is all I said in a panic, rushing into my room.

"He's an old pervert, a queer." a toothless, frail lady later told me.

Once on the buildings front steps a filthy junkie called Mike offered me a hit off his Marijuana cigarette.

"I don't do drugs." I replied backing away.

"Going down babe! Going down babe!" I heard him taunt me menacingly as I moved away.

"Nice ass." He muttered. Somehow my cock got hard, as frightened as I was.

For the first year in the rooming house, I nearly starved to death. Finally I got the nerve to attend a soup kitchen at a local drop in center. At least this was some nourishment for me.

I somehow got used to being around the bums, crazies, street people, junkies and prostitutes at the drop in center. I somehow felt like I fit in. After all, I'd been an oddball all my life.

Still I was scared of these people, so I tried to keep a low profile. I'd usually eat and rush home and quickly go inside.

I got to know Nigel a social worker, a muscular blond thirty something male with longish bushy hair and a mustache and clear blue eyes. God, did he look sexy!

"You'll be alright here hon!" he said to me one time, stroking my shoulder. My cock got hard.

Nadine was another social worker, also in her thirties. Brunette and brown eyed, very shapely, she gave me womanly assurance.

"Don't be scared of these people Joey, they won't hurt you." She once told me in her smooth syrupy voice.

On my birthday when I turned twenty six, Nadine took me down stairs to the free food locker. She gave me several pairs of designer jeans and t-shirts. They were much tighter than I was normally used to. The way the jeans hugged my cock and balls and ass, felt so good. The tight t-shirts hugged my chest so well, showing my nipples through the fabric.

"You look hot! Like a rock star!" Nigel said.

My cock got hard again. Nigel was gay.

One night I got very adventurous. I bought a gay men's magazine from a store, eying the clerk who knew me, my cock very aroused all through this, wondering what he would think.

I went home and lay down on my bed and looked at the pictures, and began masturbating frantically.

"Yes, I do like men!" I told myself feverishly as I madly played with myself.

In the climax I gushed semen all over my hands and the bedsheets, and on the magazine pages. My soul felt as blackened as the dirty, filthy soles of my bare-feet.

I'd grown up in an anti gay environment. What would my father think? My mother? My sister? Her boyfriend?

It tore me apart so much I sometimes cried at night.

"Will you ever get a girlfriend?" My sister would ask, almost scolding me. I was very confused. Sometimes I felt really lost. Very anxious.

"Are you gay?" Nadine asked.

"No." I replied pensively, my face turning blood red in embarrassment.

"It's okay baby." She'd say, stroking my back with her long red finger nailed hands.

I went home again and masturbated frantically.