It took a few days but eventually I got into the swing of things, at least in the sense that I had a rhythm, rather than I was actually enjoying any of it. I'd located the university, which ironically enough had been my insurance choice, not that I'd ever find out if I'd have had the chance to go there, and a fairly clean public toilet that you didn't have to pay for, surprise, surprise. I also got lucky enough to station myself somewhere in-between the two, finding a fairly quiet park with an undercover gazebo-type structure with a bench that so far I had yet to notice anyone else wander near. This I resolved to call home, at least until I had saved up enough money to begin renting the cheapest flat I could find. However that plan relied on the idea that I would in fact find a job sometime soon, but that was proving to be much harder than expected.
As it turned out it seemed in the entirety of Manchester no one wanted to hire an eighteen year old. Everywhere I went I was on the lookout for 'help wanted' signs, but nothing came up. I checked in newspapers, nothing that didn't at least require some form of experience I did not have, and literally every store seemed to have more than enough cashiers. I remained jobless, and as a painful result as this trend continued it seemed my bank balance was depleting exponentially. No matter how hard I tried though, I knew eventually the money would run out if I did not have a way of replenishing it, and after about two months of this way of living, my pounds, and my hope, were beginning to run dangerously low.
It was an utterly pathetic feeling, I decided one cold evening I was forced to spend alone in the park, that I'd come to detest: knowing you had a complete and utter lack of hope left and no longer had the will to survive as a result. Quite different, I decided as I continued to sit there, from being suicidal; I did not want to end my life as a method of escape, because at this point it was almost as if I simply didn't care enough. True, I could see no reason to go on, but couldn't be bothered to put a stop to it either. I simply spent all my time wishing I was in a different position all together, wishing I'd never told my family I was gay in the first place. In that case I'd be finding out my A Level results today, and finding out which university I was going to, but instead all that hard work had been wasted and I was left only with my hatred of the world.
As I continued to sit, staring absently into space, shivering on my stupid little park bench that I'd miserably been sleeping on for the last eight weeks, I began thinking something along the lines of:
Fuck this, fuck it all. I literally couldn't give two shits what happens to me now, I just want out of this hell hole my life has become
That state of mind led to the desire to do something reckless, and so coupled with the equally as strong desire to just escape, I found myself pooling together every last scrap of money I had, about 20 pounds in all, and after stowing my bag in a well hidden bush, I headed off towards the closest and busiest gay bar I could find.
My reasoning with this plan, I figured, was I was going to run out of money soon enough and by this point I'd just had enough anyway. There was only so long one could live in complete poverty for before one had just had enough of it all. So just for one night, and this one night only, I decided I'd give it all up, knowing I was well past giving a damn anymore, so for one night I was letting go, screw all consequences and screw all planning. My plan; drinking either as much as I could afford, or enough to get me drunk enough that for a while I wouldn't remember any of it was happening, whatever came first.
The bar was loud and full of strangers, dancing, drinking, hitting on one another, making out in a corner, all a totally new experience, but a welcome one. I couldn't think through the noise, which was nice for once, being able to escape my own sense of impending doom. This was also actually the opportunity for my first experience with alcohol, which I figured should be interesting in the least, so cautiously making my way to the bar I ordered myself a beer.
As far as alcohol went I soon found it wasn't quite my favourite drink, but luckily it did exactly the trick, and soon, even after just two, I could feel myself becoming tipsy beyond the point of thinking straight and that was perfectly okay with me. And as for good decision making for the night went, well that already flew out the window when I decided to come here in the first place, which was why as soon as I noticed the more than attractive guy a few places along the bar, quite clearly checking me out, I wasn't exactly panicking like I probably should have been. No, instead, figuring to hell with literally all of it, I met his gaze with a certain unfamiliar lust I couldn't quite keep away.
And despite how far from my comfort zone I knew I was about to become, the alcohol in my system led the way and had me acting totally out of character when said guy decided to wander over, sliding in next to me one seat along at the bar. I decided just to run with it.
'Hey,' he slurred, obviously much more drunk than I was, but it was still obvious what he wanted. And I knew I was probably going to give it to him. I hardly had the conviction to believe there was a reason I shouldn't. There wasn't any point now, I may as well. So I replied.
'Hi,' I answered back, giving him a weak smile, too tired of life and of feeling to remember to feel nervous about flirting with a stranger, and certainly too far gone to be worried about something as stupid as self-consciousness when the man's gaze flickered over me, lingering in all the right, or probably wrong, places.
The man laughed a little however at my answer, moving in closer as he saw I was willing to play along. 'You're a bit cute for this place, aren't you?' The man asked with an excited grin and I blushed despite myself, but not exactly caring about my reaction really. This guy seemed to be offering an interesting escape from reality and I sure as hell was going to take it.
'I try,' I responded, my own smile growing slightly more confident as the man laughed, taking his opportunity and stepping closer, wrapping an intimate hand around my waist as he called over the bartender.
'Can I buy you a drink then, you sexy little thing?' He asked, that hand sliding around to cup my bum, that action making me shiver but almost in a good way. I'd never been touched there before and this guy was bigger and stronger than me and very, very attractive; the idea of him excited me a bit. I didn't care what happened by this point anyway.
'Why not?' I answered with a shrug making the man laugh again and I smiled around innocently at the scene. In retrospect, at this point I may have just been craving the attention, attention of any kind at all from anyone, this night was a loud scream out to the Universe to make sure it hadn't all forgotten about me, I was still here, I still mattered didn't I? Did I?
But I didn't matter too much to myself, at least not enough to avoid the self-destructive, because at the base of it that was all this night was, self destructive, and all because I was sick of life. Enough reckless behavior and maybe I could end it.
The night progressed quickly, a few drinks down the line and I was far too drunk to care where the man, who's name I'd never caught, was putting his hands. Whatever he was doing, assuming his intention was to get me home in his bed, it was certainly working to turn me on where I'd never have expected it. Who knew the groping touch of a stranger in a dark corner of a sleazy bar would do it for me, but then again what about my life had been expected these last few months?
It didn't take long for his favor to be returned in that dark corner either. My own fumbling touch and anxious lips on his mouth clearly excited him. In addition the obvious fact I'd never done anything like this before didn't seem to turn him off either, rather the opposite. He murmured rough words of everything he was going to do to me later as his hand trailed round the front of my jeans, rubbing against me through the material and he grinned against my neck as his sensual words and touch gained a quiet moan from me, and a more pronounced reaction quite a bit lower.
This was miles out of my comfort zone yes, but by the time it was obvious the man didn't want to wait any longer, I was practically putty in his hands. I was willing to do anything he told me, mainly because it just felt so good to have someone telling me what to do again instead of having to fend for myself and make my own damn way through life like I'd been doing. I didn't want to make any decisions tonight, I was just letting the events of the night carry me along, and it had led me here so I was going to take what I could get. It could hardly matter if I gave myself to this man anyway, I may as well let him have his fun, it would make one of us at any rate. Mainly I just didn't want to fight anything any more. If this is what I wanted then let it happen, it might be easier. Who knew?
It's pretty clear you don't get out much, is that right?
The man's voice was soft and melodic against the raging music. That was only background noise now through the haze of what my life had become anyway. My sense of touch right now was much more active than my hearing, the sensation of the man grinding up against me stronger than the beating of the base, my heart, in my chest.
I-no, not really.
My own voice was weak, from lack of effort, with desire, I didn't want to stop and talk now, I just wanted this man's promise to give me something better to focus on, a little bit of pleasure through all the pain I'd had up until now. That promise sounded good, sounded inviting, more so the closer his touch trailed down my front.
The man moaned against my skin. I can tell. You're very excitable, you get so flustered when I touch you. His hand dropped down now, right to where I needed him and the pain of my life began seeping away in time with his strokes. I moaned. Do you like it when I touch you?
Ah-yes. My voice caught in my throat and the man laughed.
Why don't you tell me what you want me to do then?
I-I don't know.
You really haven't done this before have you? The man's rhythm slowed, stopped. He chuckled as I shifted against him, desperately pressing myself against his eager touch. He started up again, rougher than before, probing, nimble fingers pulling down the zipper of my jeans, sneaking inside, closing around me. I gasped.
I bet I can show you a few things. I moaned. I bet you're so tight. His other hand fell low around back, holding me closer to him. Exploring as his tongue explored my mouth.
Just the thought of that makes me so, so hard for you. Do you like that? Do you want to feel? I bet you do, I bet you're a little cock slut and you don't even know it yet. Here, put your hands on me. That's right, right there.
He took his hands off me, placed his hands over mine, removing them from his hips, guiding them down instead, pressing my hand down onto the prominent bulge stretching out his jeans and I gasped as I took in the hardness that was pressed against my hand now. The man moaned as experimentally I moved my hand the same way his had glanced over me a few moments ago.
You feel how big I am? You're in for a real treat, don't you know it. Uh, the man's grunt of pleasure was animalistic as I did as he asked, letting my touch explore around the zip, tugging that down and maneuvering my hand beneath the fabric, too awestruck at what I was doing to form any words back. Only the man's breathy groans was the sounds between us.
You see how hard I'm getting. That's all for you, that's all because I just can't wait to push myself inside you, you little slut. You know how good that's going to feel? How nice it's going to be when I'm moving inside you later, that tight little ass of yours is going to clench around me and I'm going to cum in you, I'm going to fill you right up, you sexy little thing, I'm so glad I can be your first.
I was pressed up against the wall now, the man kissing me hungrily and I was kissing him back just as desperately, ready to give him more, ready to experience more, ready to give him everything I had. This was happening, god did I need this to happen now, I was too far gone for consequences and what was the point of turning away?
I was definitely too drunk to care at any rate. I was too done with my life to care. So when the man sidled up closer, whispering seductively in my ear, his hand eagerly groping done my side to my front, low on my stomach, lower, I let him. When he kissed me I let him. When he asked me to touch him I did.
I let him take me home
And I let him fuck me. Just like he'd said. I let that new pain consume me, a pain so different to all I'd experienced in the last 2 weeks, a welcome change, a welcome pain, a good pain, a pain that felt nice for once. It shouldn't have, but it did.
My first sexual experience ever and I did it all in the name of an escape, a stupid metaphorical representation of what my life had become, letting everything just fuck me over, letting it all happen out of my control. But I liked that for once. Life had become too hard to have to think about it all. Letting go was easy. Letting go didn't hurt in the same way.
I looked at this as my form of rebellion, take that Dad, but everything was done for the hell of doing it. The exact opposite of what I'd ever planned, ever hoped for, always imaging my first time would be with someone I loved and trusted but that didn't matter anymore. The very idea of caring about something that stupid, being that delusional, it was laughable now. I almost did laugh as I thought about that between the pain of each thrust I was consumed by.
It didn't matter because now I knew no one loved me and I could trust no one. So fuck all of that, I thought, sentimentality, what was the point?
All I felt during the act instead was just cold now, a detached pleasure, it didn't mean anything more than escape for me, self destruction, a release, a way out of the monotone my life had become.
It wasn't hard to realise it probably felt a lot better for him. Even having no experience whatsoever in the area I could tell he wasn't exactly paying attention to making sure I enjoyed myself. But even as he just took what he wanted, it was enough for me, not what I wanted maybe, but that was the story of my life. Literally.
I couldn't bring myself to care now, no matter how much my life had gone to shit. I should have cared more. But everyone has their limits. I'd reached mine.
Even once he'd finished, fallen asleep, leaving me to lie next to him, wide awake, wrapped in damp sheets, a strangers cum leaking slowly from my ass, I couldn't bring myself to hate myself even as I realised what I'd done.
It had felt good and there was no denying it. That pain: sweet and slow at first, then rough and dirty and all consuming, no passion just pleasure, the release almost like a cleanse. And then for the first time in weeks, against all odds, instead of feeling disgusted or even more worthless than I already did, hopeless even, I realised I felt good. Turns out giving myself over to the night had done exactly what I'd been hoping it would. I was now, officially, cold to the world. It was a good feeling. It felt like if I'd been through all this I could go through anything, nothing could possibly be fucked up any further than it currently was. Hence, none of it mattered. That was my reasoning and I could be content with that. But I didn't care enough to like it either.
I fell asleep under a roof for once. Cold on the inside, but warm, blankets, the warmth of a human being, that was the one thing I'd missed. Human contact. Now I had it and had a method of getting it again. It may have been masochistic, but I fell asleep with a smile.
The next morning there was a new feeling. Determination. A new spark for survival. I ached now but that was a satisfying ache, and masochist as I was, I wanted it again. I had goals in mind now, the quickest route to self destruction.
I asked the man who'd been my first if I could use his shower. Maybe you should let me join you. You're just as sexy in the morning. And why the hell not? This man became my second too as I let him fuck me again. This time I knew what to expect and enjoyed it more. The agony became pleasure once more and more quickly, and that was what I sought. A way to turn my pain into something good. Something to look forward to. Something to break up the drone my life had become, all my life was now.
This time he took me from behind, his fingers digging into my hips hard as he thrust into me harder. He left bruises, and this time I moaned louder, gaining confidence as I braced myself against the grimy tile wall. Glancing over I could see our reflection in the glass door and that image turned me on further, pushing me over the edge as the man came for a second time.
After he was finished he left me alone again. I finished showering, happy for the chance to rinse the streets off my body as I basked in the high the man had given me. When I finally left the hot steam the man had fallen asleep again, so I was careful to stay quiet as I found my clothes where they'd been discarded on the floor last night. Not that I would ever see this man again, but after the release he'd given me I hardly thought it would be a polite repayment to wake him up.
Besides, this gave me my chance. In picking up his jeans on accident twenty pounds fell out. I figured I may as well take it because what little more was stealing on a conscience that was past caring? None at all. On my way out I grabbed the least rotten banana from his fridge. Breakfast. For the first time in a long time. I'd been living off one meal a day.
All in all, I started the day in the best mood I'd been in for weeks, months Why, because somehow stripping me of everything I had left in the world had actually left me powerful. The decision to let go of every last part of me that cared left me stronger, not weaker. Nothing could hurt me now, especially as for once I was starting the day having spent the night in a bed, with a roof over my head, a good breakfast, and I was 20 pounds richer. It could only go up from here.
This quickly became a routine. A system. The norm for me. It wasn't like I had anything better to do with my time and filling that time with meaningless sex, courtesy of strangers, was the certain excitement everything else lacked. It was a nice system.
Each night I was back to the same bar. The same thing, familiar. Each night I went home with a different guy. Different thing, yet still familiar. I grew more confident in myself, in the conviction that this was a way of survival. It kept me off the streets. In a way it was even a means of an income. Dark, but I had nothing better to be doing. The lack of meaning behind the action reflected the lack of meaning in my life quite nicely, and I liked to think of it as a dire metaphor for how life had fucked me over. Now, one by one, what seemed like the entire gay population of the sleazy bit of Manchester would fuck me over. The excitement came in the release, the one small moment of ecstasy where I found it was impossible to think about anything else other than the pleasure, which meant in that few short moments my life could have been anything and there was no way of knowing. There was no difference between me and anyone else cause that release released me from myself.
That was the escape and it was that I craved. It became my lifeline. I was depending on it each night as the only thing that had me living another day at first. It was probably quite sad that that's what I was living for now, but it wasn't like I hadn't tried. This had been a last resort, when absolutely everything else had gone to shit, this was my only solution. I'd live this way until I died, which judging by the self destructive nature of the whole thing I didn't expect would be too far off. But that didn't bother me. No one would miss me. And as dictated by the Universe it didn't seem like I'd be missing much either. It was a perfect system and so this is what I did.