My first date with Andrew is spent in a tiny room, in a boarding house, on a stained carpet, listening to classic rock on 102.7 WNEW and having multiple orgasms with my jeans still on. He somehow managed to talk me into relocating from the safety of the coffee shop to his bachelor hovel in a matter of a few hours.
Andrew is a good friend of my more age appropriate boyfriend Chris, and I haven’t yet broken it off with Chris, which kind of adds to the guilty passion. There is also the fact that it is completely illegal for Andrew to be with me. I am sixteen and he is going on thirty. We don’t discuss any of this though. Instead we talked about the important things; his mom giving him up for adoption when he was three; living in an orphanage in Newark; the sexual and physical abuse he suffered at the hands of his various foster parents; the time he went to find his mom in her trailer park only to be kicked out; the moment he got struck by a car while riding his bicycle away from his mom’s trailer; the leg he watched get twisted off when it released from the knee upon getting struck by the car; the months he spent alone watching his leg get hacked up bit by bit alone in the hospital; and the subsequent heroin addiction he suffered with for 8 years; the following years he spent living homeless and strung out on the streets in new york city.
In addition to the missing left leg, all of the nerves in his left arm are shattered, leaving it basically lifeless. He uses his right arm to move the left arm so that no one notices that it isn’t operable. Prior to this accident, Andrew had a beautiful body. One would never even notice that he is handicapped if it weren’t for his limp and inability to do use his left arm. He has mastered the art of “acting as if”.
When he holds me I feel safe. That first day on his dirty carpet listening to 70’s rock, we just kiss and roll around on the floor. He makes me cum. I hardly even notice that he has a prosthetic leg and bunk arm. He knows how to touch me. He is all about my pleasure. He is loving and gentle and he never stops telling me how beautiful I am.
At 6:30pm I let him know that I need to call my mom to come get me. Andrew doesn’t have a phone. We take the first of our nightly trips to the church up the street to the pay phone.
Later that night I end my relationship with Chris, and then wait patiently for Andrew to ride his bicycle to the 7-Eleven to call me from the phone booth.
PART II
I leave high school every day at 2 and drive my Mercedes to Andrew’s boarding house to wake him up. Andrew is on disability welfare and doesn’t work. Instead he sleeps late, and floats from coffee shop to church basement, to coffee shop. He drinks coffee and smokes cigarettes in the coffee shops, and drinks coffee and smokes cigarettes at the AA meetings in the church basements. The only difference being the company he keeps. Sometimes, in between the basements and the coffee shops he makes a pit stop at the 7-Eleven to steal groceries, like a one-legged gypsy.
So, I wake him up, or fetch him from one of his hangouts and we go to his boarding house to make-out.
Andrew and I wait six months to actually fuck, until I am 17. Not legal, but close to it. In the months waiting to fuck, our ritual consists of me laying on top of him, my back to his clothed chest, and his hands in my jeans, over my underpants. Eventually over a few months he manages to get his fingers into my vagina without causing me pain. The sexual encounters are always focused around my body and my pleasure, with Andrew as the one in control. His violent and abusive sexual history, pretty much ruined him for normal sex.
When we finally have full on intercourse he still can’t cum without finishing himself off. He says he loves me too much to do the things to me that were done to him as a child. I am ready to get properly fucked, but instead I am getting properly mind fucked.
Andrew does however find plenty of time to pleasure himself to an assortment of very tan and thin centerfolds in Playboy. He keeps his sticky magazines under the mattress of the twin bed in his tiny room. When the magazines fall on the floor during our heated make-out fingering, or one-sided fuck sessions, I can easily tell exactly who inspired him to finish. He likes to make sure I know which women are able to get him off.