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  DAMIEN DRAKE

  Born I Am

  by

  Markus Anders

  DISCLAIMER:

  This book contains sexually explicit material and adult language that some readers may find offensive. It is intended for sale to ADULTS ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase.

  Other Books by Markus Anders:

  Damien Drake - Goes to London

  Must Love Plants

  Bi Bi Baby (An Ellie Newman Story)

  Ball & Chain

  THE ALBATROSS

  “Do you know what you are, Damien Drake?”

  “No.”

  “You’re an Albatross. Do you know what an Albatross is?”

  “What?”

  “It’s a big useless thing that hangs around your neck.”

  A KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOUR

  Damien Drake was never really confused about his sexuality, not when he actually thought about it. From an early age he’d had crushes on his teachers, classmates and friends, all of whom were male. So it didn’t come as any surprise when those feelings grew with him. Though he did his best to try and hide them, he was only too well aware that they were there. In every handsome guy that passed, in every tight bubble butt pair of jeans, in every pendulous short wearing or trouser bulged man that he saw. Cyclists in Lycra - light blue Lycra - were a dead giveaway. As subtle as firecrackers at midnight.

  Growing up in a small town, where most people didn’t see past their own existence, Damien knew what was expected of him. He’d be married young, probably late teens or early twenties at the latest, and almost immediately he’d be a dad to three or more dirty, snotty-faced rowdy kids all roughly the same age, with a wife who looked quite attractive pre-marriage-and-kids, but now looked older than his mother – and worse – dressed and acted like his mother. He’d spend his days labouring in the local brick factory, breaking his back to earn the same paltry pay as all the other men. The highlight of his week would be spending Friday & Saturday nights in The Ranch – the local spit and sawdust pub. Where he’d drink himself in to oblivion, play darts and pool, ogle the barmaid, try his hardest not to eye the other guy’s cock at the urinal and end the night brawling, before going home to the wife and trying to get his leg over. As that was what all the other “men” did here.

  Sitting in his room, singing along very quietly to Lady Gaga’s, Born This Way, Damien fantasized about being rescued by a knight in shining armour. Or as he pictured it, a ruggedly handsome man in a flash car. He pulls up while Damien is out walking one day and asks if he wants a ride. He has movie star looks, amazing smile and twinkling eyes. Damien’s heart swoons, “Ok,” he says. He gets in the car and the man drives off. Taking him away. Away from this place. He is wearing a chunky knit, off-white crew neck sweater with the sleeves pulled up, cream coloured trousers and nothing else underneath. He has a smattering of fine blond hairs on his arms and his hair is dark and shiny. He looks at Damien and smiles, a perfect knowing, sexy smile that makes him feel hot and tingly all over and his instant bulge presses hard against his pants. Then the man puts his hand on the back of Damien’s neck and pulls him close. His head on the man’s chest, Damien loves the feel of his face touching manly muscular pecs under thick wool sweater. The man gently pushes Damien’s head down to his lap and then slowly unzips his pants. A huge, perfectly formed cock pops out and he guides Damien’s mouth on to it, gentle pressure on his head as it presses against his lips and enters his mouth. Damien opens wide and bobs his head up and down obediently. He sucks and licks, flicking his tongue over it and up and down the thick, hot, meaty shaft. Then he takes it all and buries his head deep in the man’s groin and the man moans and groans and sighs, “Oh yes. Yes. Yes. You’re good. Really good. Really, really good,” as he comes. And Damien’s hard cock, now threatening to burst through his jeans, shoots a hot, creamy load in his pants.

  “What the fuck you doing up there?” Her rough voice boomed up the stairs.

  Damien’s mother always seemed to have the knack of interrupting him right at the wrong time. He tried to play his music as quietly as possible but his mother had radar hearing that could detect the lowliest of bass beats. His mother also hated Lady G, “Turn that fucking gay music off, and get your ass down here. Now!”

  Damien switched his stereo off and carefully positioned his shirt front to hide the slowly deflating bulge in his jeans. “Coming,” he yelled back.

  DREAMING OF A LIFE FAR AWAY

  Damien was the eldest of four kids that his mother had to four different men. The others, three sisters, Debbie, Davina and Diana, ranged in age from ten to four. His mother’s name was Doris and she had a thing about naming her kids after her initial.

  Her new boyfriend, Mike, could be father number five, to either a Daphne or a Drew. Which he’d heard his mother mention recently as names she would chose if she ever got pregnant again. She’d been seeing Mike for a couple of months, which was a bit of a record for her. Damien had resented him at first, thinking he’d be just like all the other Aholes his mother had hooked up with in the past, but Mike was different. For one, he was from out of town, and he played guitar, which with Damien’s love of music, was way beyond cool. And two, he was one of the best looking guys Damien had ever seen. Everything about him was perfect, his face, his hair, his skin, his muscled body, perfect ass and, from stumbling in on him getting out of the shower one morning, his big fat dick. And he had one of the cutest smiles ever. There were times when Mike smiling instantly made Damien rock hard. So much so that he trawled the internet at school for jokes that he could tell Mike just so he could make him smile. Some worked, some didn’t.

  In the space of two months Damien had gone from hating Mike being around to looking forward to him staying the night.

  “Baby sitting,” his mother said, chewing gum in a repulsive way, as Damien came downstairs, “I need your services tonight. Me and Mike are going out.”

  Damien had been babysitting since he was nine. And his mother went out often so he’d had plenty of practice. The older he got the more he loved babysitting for it meant more time to himself - to be himself. And his sisters were easy to look after. He’d put them to bed around nine and his mother and Mike wouldn’t be back till after two, so he had the whole night and the house to do whatever he liked.

  “Sure,” he said, “What time you going out?”

  “Soon,” his mother said, though it wasn’t even five yet. “Mike’s sister just got engaged so we’re throwing her a party at the Ranch. I need to leave about six to get things ready.”

  Great, Damien thought. Even more time to myself than usual. Mike had a kick ass stereo that he’d brought to the house last week and Damien looked forward to playing his music on it - Lady Gaga’s Born this Way or Madonna’s Hard Candy which he’d bought with the twenty note Mike had given him as a belated birthday present the week before. On strict instructions not to mention it to his mother which he never did.

  His mother left at six as promised and waving her off, Damien closed the door and felt an enormous weight lift off his shoulders as adrenalin crashed through his body. He was the Albatross, ready to jump off the cliff face and soar.

  All his life Damien had heard his mother say he was useless. Even when he got good at rugby and captained the school team – that was just a fluke.

  “You won’t be captain for long, once they find out how useless you are.”

  Damien had no idea why she thought of him as useless. It had affected him in his younger days, but the older he got the more he disregarded her words and believed in himself. He knew he wasn’t useless. And he dreamed of a life far away from here, wh
ere he could prove just how far from useless he was.

  Gathering his sisters in the lounge it was fun time. Madonna blaring, they danced to Damien’s favourite track as he sang at the top of his voice, “Give it to me. Give it to me.” His sisters danced and laughed as Damien imagined Mike, giving it to him hard and fast and all night long.

  In the council estate where they lived in a four bed house in a run-down part of town, money was always scarce, but what they lacked in home comforts they tried to make up for with fun. And the fun was always better when their mother wasn’t around. His sisters loved Damien watching them as much as he loved babysitting them, as they could all have fun together. Considering she’d had four kids, their mother was far from maternal and treated all of them with the same indifference.

  Damien had never known his father, hadn’t even seen a photograph of him; and having left before Damien was born, he had no memory of him either. The fathers of his three sisters had followed his example, and never bothered to be part of their lives. Though Diana had seen her dad around town from time to time but he was now married and had other kids of his own. His sisters took after his mother and had blonde hair and green eyes, but Damien had dark hair and blue eyes which he presumed he inherited from his father. Sometimes he’d see men in town with similar hair colour to his and wonder if one of them was his dad.

  Being the only constant man in his sisters’ lives, they looked to Damien as both brother and surrogate father figure.

  After dancing it was food time. There was never that much in the pantry, but Damien was a bit of a wizard in the kitchen and his sisters loved him cooking for them. As they all headed to the kitchen and took their places at the table, Damien had a look in the pantry and fridge to see what he could conjure up. There was bread, cheese and baked beans.

  “Ok,” he said, “Who’s for cheese beanos?”

  It was a concoction Damien had come up with, toasted bread layered with beans and cheese and melted cheese on top, and they all loved it.

  “Yeah!” was their unanimous response.

  They watched Damien prepare the food as if he was conjuring magic and then they all sat and tucked in to his delicious cheese beanos.

  “Yum,” his youngest sister, Debbie said, smiling.

  “Yummy yum,” said Davina.

  “You’re a Masterchef,” said Diana, the eldest, and they all cheered, “Masterchef!”

  Next to playing rugby, cooking was the one other thing Damien considered he was any good at. He took pride in it, and got a lot of enjoyment from it. And so did his sisters.

  THE CREAKING BED

  An hour after putting his sisters to bed, Damien found the monkey wrench in the toolbox under the stairs and went up to his mother’s room. Her bed creaked, and Mike, when he fucked her, was very vocal. Damien kept himself purposely awake the nights he was there just so he could hear the creaking bed and Mike moaning and coming. And he’d beat his meat and try to time his coming to coincide with Mike’s. Wishing that it was him taking Mike’s load and not his mother. Part of him knew that was a bit sick but he didn’t care. Mike’s hotness made up for that fact.

  The previous day, his mother had complained to Mike that the bed was squeaking too much and he’d tightened the bolts on it, which put a dampener on Damien’s enjoyment.

  It was an old metal framed bed, and lifting the edge of the mattress Damien located the first bolt in the corner at the bottom of the bed. Tightening the head of the monkey wrench around it he loosened it, just enough to make the bed frame squeak more, without making it too obvious that it had been tampered with, or too loose as to make it fall apart, then he proceeded to do the same with the other three corners. Task completed, he lay on the bed and moved his ass up and down to test out his handiwork. Hearing the bed squeaking gave him an instant boner and he put his hand over his dick and squeezed its thick shaft. Sometimes, when his mother and Mike were out for the night, he’d get naked and crawl in on the side that Mike slept on and shoot a load while imagining Mike’s hot naked body and big dick laying where he was lying. And there were often semen stains on Mike’s side of the bed that he would hump, and rub his ass up and down on, adding to his guilty pleasure. He’d had some of his best wanks in his mother’s bed. But not tonight. He wanted to save himself for later. When they were drunk the sex was wilder and Mike was a lot noisier and animaly-grunty sounding which Damien loved to hear. Luckily his mother was mostly silent which helped him forget she was even there.

  Going back downstairs, he put the monkey wrench back in the toolbox, and after listening to some music while reading one of his mother’s magazines he decided to watch some TV. The atmosphere in the house when his mother wasn’t there was light and relaxed and simple things like watching TV or listening to music were transformed in to hugely pleasurable experiences. Flicking through the channels he came across the film Brokeback Mountain which had just started. He’d always wanted to see it, but other times it had been on his mother had changed the channel in disgust with her usual remark of, “I’m not watching that crap.” Damien was so excited to finally get the chance to see it. He watched it enthralled, imagining himself as Jake Gylenhaal’s character, falling deeply in love with Ennis. He would have gladly left his wife and lived happily ever after with him. Half way through the movie the tears came and when it was over he started to cry uncontrollably.

  Damien didn’t know why or what made him gay, he just knew he was. Had done from a very early age though he’d just recently realised what the feelings he had inside meant. He wondered sometimes if having a regular dad around would have made a difference. Would having a dad in his life have made him straight? He’d heard talk about nature or nurture and all that other crap about how people could choose to be gay or straight, but it didn’t help him any. He was attracted to guys, loved to be around other guys and dreamed, one day, of being in love with another guy. Of settling down and living happily ever after with another guy. There was no cure for that, at least not that he could see. And even if there was some magic pill he could take to make him straight he wouldn’t want to take it. He loved how other guys made him feel, when he was around them, playing rugby with them and seeing them naked. He wanted to be proud of being gay, of being who he was - not ashamed.

  It didn’t help that practically everyone he knew seemed to hate gay people; including his mother. They saw them as inferior or lesser people than themselves. Everything about gay people meant less to them; their hopes, their dreams, their relationships and even their lives were all below standard in their eyes. On the news recently was a story about a gay man who had picked up a homeless guy and taken him back to his place, with the understanding that he would pay him for sex. When it came down to it, the homeless guy had freaked out and battered the man to death. And he’d gotten off with it as the jury had decided there were mitigating circumstances as the homeless guy was straight. The thought of it made Damien feel sick and he wondered if the man had been a woman and the homeless guy had been gay if the outcome would have been the same. He guessed not. He often wished that gay was the norm and straight was taboo and looked down on. How would they all feel then, he wondered? He couldn’t really explain how he was, he just knew he was. But if anyone was ever to ask him what it felt like to be gay he’d be ready with the answer - what does it feel like to be you?

  His mother had summed up her feelings about “The gays” one day when she was talking with one of her friends.

  “I used to love George Michael, but as soon as I heard he was gay, that was it!” she said, cutting the air violently with her hand, “All his CDs went straight in the trash. And I always loved his music.”

  Damien thought it was a very unfair world that could write people off on the basis of their sexuality - or rather, their prejudice towards it. How can you love somebody’s music one day and hate it the next because of who they sleep with? Do gay people make gay music?

  Where his mother was concerned, Damien knew he would have to be the bearer of hor
rible news one day. But, he guessed there’d be time enough for that when he was older.

  He couldn’t wait to grow up, start making money and get a place of his own. But he was only fifteen, still at school and for the time being stuck in a place that felt totally alien to him. All his life he’d felt different from everyone else around him, he couldn’t relate to them. He didn’t really know if it was because he was gay or if it was just that he was different. For most of the kids his age on the estate, a good time was hanging around the streets or outside the local shops or liquor store. Throwing insults at passers-by, vandalising houses, spraying graffiti, stealing cars, getting drunk or taking drugs. His mother had asked him several times why he didn’t have any friends on the estate and he just shrugged. Truth was, Damien wasn’t interested in any of them and saw the kids on the estate as ghosts of the people they could be. All of his friends came from the better parts of town and that was where he intended to end up one day. He wanted to do well in life, and to do well he needed to study and get good grades, which the other kids here and most of the adults would just scoff at. Though it was a struggle he was determined to better himself and one day get out of the hell pit that surrounded him.

  Turning out the downstairs lights, leaving the porch light on, he went to bed at 1.30am. Figuring Mike and his mother would be back just after two as usual.

  Lying in the dark waiting, the minutes stretched out like days. Two O’clock came and went, then 2.30am and they still weren’t home. Damien closed his eyes, thinking they’d be back any minute.

  Opening his eyes he saw daylight, and disappointment overwhelmed him as it slowly dawned on him that it was morning. He’d fallen asleep and missed Mike’s hot, drunk performance. He angrily threw the covers back and was about to get up when he heard something. A small tell-tale noise. He froze, filled with hope. Then he heard it again - a small sound and then a definite creak. Adrenalin flashed through him and prickly heat ran up and down his body and up over his scalp. He quietly lay back down, easing his lycra boxers down over his stiff cock and tried to calm his heart that was thumping so loud in his ears he was afraid he wouldn’t hear anything else. Then there was another creak followed by another and then the familiar rhythmic sound started up. Creak…creak….creak….creak, creak…creak…, ….. creak,creak,creak, creakcreakcreak. Damien listened, his body on fire and his dick rock hard and twitching up and down on his stomach. But he didn’t dare touch it until it was time, as the merest movement at this point would make him shoot and he’d miss the best part. The creaking picked up speed, getting louder and faster with the headboard intermittently hitting the wall. Then he heard Mike’s first moan. It sent another electric rush of adrenaline through him and almost made him moan involuntarily. He slapped his hand to his mouth to stifle any sound. Then he heard Mike say “Oh God,” and he knew it would soon be time. As the creaking got even faster and reached a crescendo, Damien closed his eyes to concentrate his ears and could hear Mike’s heavy breathing as if his head was right by his ear. He moved his hand to his throbbing dick, running his thumb over its swollen head to coat it with the little drop of pre-cum that was there. “Oh God,” Mike said again and there was the familiar tone in his voice that signalled he was close. Then came the “Oh god! Oh god! Oh god!” Any second now. And then he heard the, “YESssss….!” Damien quickly jerked his cock up and down and spurted all over his chest and stomach as through the wall he heard Mike straining and grunting and doing the same. Spent and quivering all over, he closed his eyes and smiled.