Prologue

One of the only things that my dear parents ever taught me about sexuality is that it is subjective. There are no such thing as sexual orientations or love, people fuck because fucking is fun. Because it feels good. And there isnt any harm in that, rite?

So when my first ever kiss was with a guy, I wasnt really worried. I mean, he was really hot in all the conventional terms. Gorgeous eyes, golden and toned body, excellently proportioned prick. The usual suspects.

I love girls, too. I love their soft skin, their curves, and there smell. That sweet smell. I dont care if its some shit from a bottle its fucking fantastic. But girls are so much work. You have to talk to them before theyll let you screw them, which can take like..several days. And you have to be clever. And then after you screw them they always want to get married. Lets just say, thats one conversation over the morning toast I can really do without.

And its not even fair because the girls who are easy, the ones who with an easy smile and wink you can get into your bed, are consceptually beneath my class. My parents even frown upon, which when you think about it doesnt make any sense. I mean, they leave without a fuss. It's so tidy. And it would've have avoided a whole lot of trouble. I hate how people contradict themselves so much, sometimes.

So you can sympathize that half the time I'd rather be fucked than do the fucking. It's easier and sometimes twice as pleasureable. And the men, so many men. I dont really remember their names or faces, but....

Well...this is before it all changed. You see, silly fuck that I am, I had to go in a screw everything up. The first rule about fucking in my parents house is you never fall in love. Its like a law. Because while fucking is okay, feeling anything beyond lust for anyone outside of your family (and feeling lust for your family) just isnt allowed. Oh and your wife, its recommeneded that you fall in love with your wife, but not a rule. Too many people would break it.

But there I had to go and feel something besides lust, something maybe an extreame optimist might even call compassion or even true appreciation (things that arent really allowed in the family, either) or, if you turn in the opposite direction and close your eyes, maybe even true love for another person.

Another man. And he didnt just have a penis but he had to go and be born a commoner, a working class stiff with no formal education and no hope of becoming anything beyond a grunt work horse or a soldier.

People who have gorgeous green eyes and freckles and perfect bodies and miles of muscle just shouldnt be allowed to be working class stiffs. In fact they shouldnt be allowed at all, because people like that really fuck up the lives of people like me. They make people break the rules. And there are rules for a reason! Because shit happens when you break the rules, I've come to learn. It hurts your insides.

But I guess I'm getting ahead of myself. You see this is sopposed to be a story. It's a pretty good one too, with intrigue and passion and hot sex and lust and jealosy and star crossed lovers through and through. Hell, Shakespear couldnt have thought this shit up.

But I warn you that the ending will break your heart. And know you're not alone because it broke mine too. Thirty three thousand shattered pieces of heart. Enough to make me almost end it all, and thats why I have all this time on my hands to write this down. I hauled up in this building of windows and white until the doctor deems me fit for society. I dont know who he's trying to protect though, me or society.

So here I go. Chapter one. The exposision.