Dave, the Cocaine Addict! :O

I decided to make Dave the main Protagonist since I find Dave to actually be a much better Protagonist than Darryl. :)

I was at a Johnson Academy party, and I was having just a little of fun. I wasn’t really bored, but I wasn’t fully enjoying myself either.

Freddie Walker came up to me and talked to me. “Dave, you enjoying yourself?” He asked me.

"Just a little. Not too much, “I said nonchalantly.

Freddie said, “I know what will get you having fun.

“What?” I asked, interested.

Freddie pulled me into a corner. “This.” He said. He pulled out a bag of cocaine. “Snort it and you’ll have fun.” He gave me a rakish smile.

I said, “Sure”, and he put some in my hand and I snorted it. I instantly felt awake, alert, and energized. I felt a huge rush.

I went through the party, extremely hyper. I jumped around like a damned kangaroo. I was the life of the party, and I couldn’t stop talking. Everyone noticed how much I had loosened up. I was a big hit at the party.

After the party, Freddie asked how my “fun” went. I said, “Good. I feel so alive!” I laughed giddily. I had a huge smile on my face.

Freddie said, “I knew you’d have fun.” He smiled. We went our separate ways. The next day, all I could think about was the cocaine. I wanted more. I wanted that alive feeling again
.
I wanted to be unnaturally high again.

I went up to Freddie and asked him where he had scored the cocaine.

Freddie said, “I got it from Mr. X.”

“Mr. X?” I asked him questionably.

“Sure, drug dealers don’t use their real names.” Freddie said.

“Oh,” I said softly.

“You want more?” Freddie asked me knowingly.

I tried to deny it, but he could see it in my eyes. I wanted the cocaine.


“Not really,” I tried lying. I looked at the ground.

“Come on, let’s go meet Mr. X,” Freddie said. I shyly followed him.

He took me to the corner of building 8. There was a 30ish looking tall man with brown hair and brown eyes there. He looked a little shady with a blue hoodie and blue jeans.

“Mr. X, my friend Dave wants to try cocaine,” Freddie said.

“Oh, does he?” Mr. X looked at me thoroughly.

I blushed. “I…I…” I started.

“Shh….” Mr. X said. He gave me a little bit of cocaine. “The first try is free,” he said. “It’s on the house.

I agreed. He gave me a “line”. I snorted it, and felt instantly great.

“Can I have more?” I asked. I felt greedy.

“Sure, but it will cost you,” Mr. X said.

“How much?” I asked.

“$10.00 a bag. That line you snorted is only about 1/10 of a bag,” Mr. X answered. “Imagine a whole bag, he added, mischievously.

I gave him a 10.00 bill and he gave me a bag of cocaine. I went to my dorm to enjoy it. I snorted another one tenth of it. Man the rush was great.

I went to sleep, (after that amazing hyper rush) dreaming of cocaine. When I woke up, I was sweating. I needed the cocaine.

I ate breakfast, and got ready for school. I snorted more cocaine and put the bag in my book bag.

During classes, I wanted the cocaine. I kept “going to the bathroom.” What I was really doing was giving into my cocaine addiction in the bathroom.

Soon, teachers got suspicious and asked me what was going on. I lied and said, ‘I have a bladder control problem.” They didn’t look too convinced, but they let the question drop.

Over the next month, I skipped classes to snort the cocaine. I used money that my parents sent me for extra food for the cocaine. When that money ran out, I stole other students’ money.

I gave Mr. X a lot of money for the cocaine. One day, I went to an empty classroom and snorted a line. I looked up and saw George and Rob. George and Rob are two evil, nasty jerks. They are also as strong and as big as football players, and as tall as basketball players, with the aggressiveness of hockey players.

“No”, I thought, thinking who just saw me snorting cocaine. Those were the last people (besides my parents and my boyfriend, Max) I wanted to see me snorting. They’d blackmail me for sure.

“So, that’s where the stolen money’s been going to,” George said with an evil sneer.

Rob said, “Maybe we should beat the money out of him.”

“Please no,” I begged softly. I don’t know why they always pick on me. I’ve always been nice to them.

I knew what was going to happen next. I tried to run, but Rob pushed me into a wall hard and George punched me in the stomach.

“Please, leave me alone,” I begged softly.

“Do you mean like you should have left those peoples’ money alone?” Rob asked me cruelly.

I tried to run again, but George stepped in front of me and pushed me to the ground.


They mercilessly beat me up.

I lifelessly lied in a crumpled heap.

When they saw how lifeless I looked, they left me alone.

I was filled with despair and pain. I just wish they’d stop beating me up. I’m scared of them.

Maybe another line will make me feel better, I thought. I snorted another line.

A few minutes later, I went to my dorm and saw Max next to my dorm. Max is my boyfriend of one year. I didn’t want him to know what happened to me.

I put on a fake smile to fool Max. Max still looked worried.

“Dave, are you okay? You look horrible.” He asked me, concerned.

“I just need to get some sleep,” I lied. Max believed me and we kissed goodbye and went to our own dorms.

The next day, I snorted more cocaine, and Dean Riley confronted me when he saw a trace of cocaine on my book bag. I had forgotten to snort that.

“Son, you need to go to rehab,” he suggested. He looked at me concerned.

I lied. “I don’t know whose cocaine that is. It’s not mine!” I screamed emotionally.

Dean Riley believed me. But a few days later, I was snorting cocaine when he tapped me on the shoulder.

“Dean Riley,” I said in surprise. “It’s not what it looks like. This is just baby powder,” I lied. I knew I was caught, but I was not going down without lying.

He searched my book bag and dorm, and found five more bags of cocaine.

“So, all of this is “baby powder”, huh?” he said, knowingly.

I looked at the ground. “So, am I going to go to jail?” I asked him.

“No, but you are going to go to rehab. You’re gonna get help,” Dean Riley said softly. He threw the bags in the garbage chute.

I actually tried to jump in the garbage chute to get the bags of cocaine back but Dean Riley gently stopped me.

“You have a problem, son,” he said gently.

I began to dance like a wild man! “I need my Cocaine, Dean Riley!" I said emotionally. I burst into tears because of my Cocaine addiction.

“Dean Riley wiped away my tears. “I’m gonna put you in rehab, and I’ll pay for it. People don’t have to know you’re in rehab. “I’ll just tell them you’re on vacation.”

I reluctantly agreed. Dean Riley put me in Rehab that same day.

I settled in, and then we had “Anti-drug” meetings, and we had to talk about our X-factors. An X factor is a bad thing that made you turn to drugs.

I was still having trouble admitting that I was a drug addict. It seemed harsh to say.

“I’m not a drug addict,” I said. “I don’t even know why I’m here,” I lied. I looked at the ground.

“Come on, Dave, we’re not here to judge you. Everyone in this group is a drug addict,” the psychiatrist said.

Everyone nodded.

I looked at non-judging eyes. They all had empathy in their eyes. I felt a little better. “Okay, I’m a drug addict,” I said in a pained voice.

“And what’s your drug addiction?” The psych asked me.

“Cocaine” I said, looking at the ground.

The psych nodded. “And what’s your x-factor?” He asked softly.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said. My X-factor was plain weakness.

“It’s better to talk about it,” he said softly.

I said, “I’m not ready to talk about it yet.”

The psych asked other people what their X-factor was.

Jimmy answered, “My X-factor is an abusive uncle. He beat me unmercifully as a child. I use meth to cope with it.”

Sarah said, “I was raped as a teenager, and then called a slut in my high school because “I wanted it.” Her voice cracked with emotion. I use heroin to cope with it.”

Lance said, ‘My mother ran away from my older sister, my older brother, and me when we were all kids. She left us to be raised by our neglectful father. I use Ecstasy to deal with it.”

More people talked about their “serious” X-factors, and I felt even worse.

“Do you feel better enough to talk about your own x-factor?” The psych asked me.

“No, I feel even worse,” I said. These people had some good reasons for their addictions. What did I have? Taking cocaine just because it was offered to me.

”Come on,” the psych coaxed. “We’re not going to judge you. Will we group?” He asked. The group shook their heads. “See?’ the psych asked.

I took a deep breath. “Someone offered me cocaine and I snorted it, and became hooked,” I answered, reluctantly.

“The psych said, “The person who gave you the cocaine is your X-factor,” the psych said.

I blushed.

“But, is there another X-factor in your life?” the psych asked.

“What do you mean? I asked.

“Is there something else that could have led to your addiction?” he asked.

I thought and thought. George and Rob!” I screamed mentally.

‘Yes, there is. There are two extra X-factors in my life. There names are George and Rob. These two always beat up on me,” I answered.

“Maybe they subconsciously drove you to want the cocaine,” the psych said.

I never thought of that before.

“Let’s talk about A-factors.” The psych said. “A factor is something good in your life that will make you not want the drug.

I blushed when I thought about my A-factor. My boyfriend Max. Max would be so proud of me if he knew I had stopped taking cocaine. Of course, he didn’t know that I had taken cocaine. I didn’t want him to be disappointed in me.

When they asked me who my A-factor was, I answered, ‘My a-factor is my best friend, Max.” I didn’t want to say, ‘my boyfriend” because I wasn’t sure how the people would react to me being gay. “And my parents, too,” I added aloud.

Everyone talked about their “A-factors.”

Soon, it was time for bed. I got ready for bed, but as I lay down, the powerful craving took over. I wanted to the cocaine. I imagined jumping out of the window to go score some cocaine. My heart pumped furiously, and my body begun to convulse. I sweated profusely, and there were sweat stains on my sheets.

I gritted my teeth and held myself tight. My body craved cocaine so much. It was hard to fight this overwhelming craving.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I went up to a bottle of baby powder and shook out the contents in my hands. I snorted the powder, trying to substitute the powder for cocaine.

Just like the Barracuda song by heart, Ann Wilson sings, “The real thing don’t do the trick, you’d better make up something quick.” I was using baby powder because I couldn’t get “the real thing”.

But, baby powder is no match for cocaine. I was still jittery and sweating, though not as much.

I went to sleep.

When I woke up, I got ready for the day. At our next meeting, we had to talk about what was the worst thing we did to support our addictions.

‘I stole from my schoolmates and basically stole my parents’ money,’ I confessed.

“What do you mean “basically stole’? Another rehabbie asked.

“I used money my parents gave me for extra food to buy cocaine,” I answered him.

A girl said, ‘I pawned family heirlooms for drug money.”

A guy said, ‘I had sex with a man for drug money,” he said in a choking voice. “And I’m not even gay!” He looked at the floor. He kind of looked embarrassed.

Everyone talked about what the worst thing they did for drug money was. Someone said that they scammed people out of collectively $200.00 by pretending to be a bum on the streets for money.

We did a few more meetings, and that night, I took out my picture of Max and happily kissed it. I put it under my bed, and realized that my roommate Denny was watching.

I…uh…..,” I started. I began to blush. I didn’t know what to say.

‘Hey, don’t sweat it, “Denny said with a knowing smile.

“You’re not going to tell anyone, are you?” I begged Denny, looking at him pleadingly.

“No. And even if I did, it’s not like we judge people on being gay here. Here we’re more focused on beating addictions than sexual preferences.

I sighed a sigh of relief.

If you want to write fiction, you need personal experience or some research about things to write about them. This story of beginning cocaine use isn't believable. Often times people will tell you either there was a traumatic event in a person's life or they already have another drug issue and for whatever reason they weren't patient to wait for their drug of choice and they tried another drug. Cocaine is a drug which people just don't flash it around and ask squares to try because they're exposing themselves to law enforcement.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by theywontpayontuesday

If you want to write fiction, you need personal experience or some research about things to write about them. This story of beginning cocaine use isn't believable. Often times people will tell you either there was a traumatic event in a person's life or they already have another drug issue and for whatever reason they weren't patient to wait for their drug of choice and they tried another drug. Cocaine is a drug which people just don't flash it around and ask squares to try because they're exposing themselves to law enforcement.

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My Sister was a Cocaine addict, but I personally don't have any first person experience with Cocaine. I have at BEST second hand knowledge of Cocaine addiction due to my Sister being a Cocaine addict. Which is why Dave got addicted to Cocaine after trying ONE line of it at a party. In fact, I mentioned that Dave said he got addicted to Cocaine after snorting a line at a party but then I thought,"That's actually a REALLY weak excuse and added the underlying reason why Dave felt compelled to even try Cocaine in the first place. It's coming in the next chapter. ;)

Quote:

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Originally Posted by theywontpayontuesday

If you want to write fiction, you need personal experience or some research about things to write about them.

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So true.

Karen, you need to have interesting life experiences to base your fables upon.

Like this...the true of how Mr. V tale inadvertently discovered the wonders of illegal drugs.

__________________________________________________ ________

Mr. V was a young teen, about 13 or 14 years old, and inexperienced with drugs, drug culture and the wicked world in general; a child of the NY / Philadelphia suburbs, eldest of three in an intact nuclear family he was as receptive as fly paper.

His folks rented a house at the Jersey shore for a bit, and one summer night he walked off to see what the night held for him; no doubt his parents smiled, thinking "Aw, our first born is growing up."

As there was no nearby boardwalk, rides or carnival atmosphere near him Mr.V walked the streets and the beach hoping for something new: then...he got it.

He started chatting with some teens and was invited to a party: of course he went, and was soon seated on a comfy couch in the living room, the party goers all grouped in a circle.

Wine was passed around: Mr. V had previously had beer but never wine, and he liked it: soon he got a bit of a buzz, and while ripe for change he was passed aluminum foil with strawberry powder on it.

He'd observed others wet their fingers, dab the powder then lick it, so when it was his turn he did the same...hey, it tasted great!

So he had some more, then some more of what he thought was some new type of candy.

"What is this?" he asked, and was told "It's strawberry mescaline."



to be continued

"In my school, Marshall Johnson Academy, we gays have to disguise ourselves. If we "came out", we would be shunned," I said.

Denny gave me a knowing smile. "Don't worry about it. So, how long have you and your boyfriend been going out?"

"For over a year," I told him.

"He's cute," Denny said with a mischievous smile and wink.

I laughed and said, "Hey, he's mine...." It felt good to talk openly about Max, without fear of being shunned. i didn't really crave the cocaine at this point. Denny laughed.

Denny asked, "So, is he "your best friend" that you said was your a-factor?"

"Yes, he is, 'I said smiling.

Denny smiled and we both said goodnight and went to sleep.

The next day, at another meeting, we had to watch anti-drug Public Service Announcements. We had to watch a lot of PSA's from the Partnership For A Drug free America. We watched one where a girl is dancing, and then suddenly collapses, and an adult male voice over says, 'No one says, "I want to be a junkie when I grow up. Don't let drugs get in the way of your dreams." Just prior to this voice, a young female voice says, 'When I grow up, I want to be a ballerina." The PSA is creepy, with a blue tinge to it.

Then we watched one where Rachel leigh Cook smashes the hell out of a kitchen, saying this is what happens when you snort heroin. Pretty scary PSA with a lot of anger, passion, and emotion.

I said aloud, 'I thought heroin was a relaxant. Why is she acting like it's a stimulant?"

"The psych said, 'She is demonstrating what it does to your body, your friends, family, life, and so on."

I said, 'Well, heroin has nothing to do with me." I scoffed.

The next PSA we saw was a non PFDFA PSA. We saw an ad featuring Pee-wee Herman(Paul Reubens) talking about how crack was bad for you. Everyone looked at me. I blushed, but then said, 'I don't do crack. I do cocaine." I scoffed again.

The next ad we saw was another PFDFA. It featured a celebrity imitating snorting cocaine with a pipe. He said, 'I do coke." Everyone again looked at me. That ad DID pertain to me. Coke is short for cocaine. I blushed. He began walking around in circles, saying, "I do more coke so i can work longer, i work longer so i can do more coke. He says this repeatedly, while his voice gets higher-pitched and distorted. Finally, he vanishes into thin air, while a creepy voice saings, 'I am always chasing rainbows."

I burst out laughing. That PSA was actually funny. Repeating the same things over and over in a high pitched voice and then vanishing into thin air? Funny. Everyone looked at me with concern, confused, and unamused expressions.

I told them that I just found that PSA funny. I begun to say , 'I do more coke so I can work longer. I work longer so I can do more coke." I laughed.

No one was amused. The psych said, 'That ad was not funny. I would imagine that someone who is hooked on cocaine would take this ad very seriously." He frowned.

I tried to be serious, but ended up laughing again.

The group murmured amongst themselves. 'Maybe Dave has been getting 'fixes" while at rehab?" Someone suggested quietly, but I heard it.

I was angry. "Hey, I heard that!" I said indignantly. "Stop instigating stuff about me! I haven't been doing cocaine while in rehab!" My face flushed.

Everybody looked at me with confusion and pity. I was acting kind of 'hooked".

I haven't been taking any cocaine while in rehab," I said quietly and calmly.

The group nodded as if they believed me.

Now do one about Mr. V getting hooked on Peruvian flake. I think his fictional name should be Varryl.

Fortunately it would be fictional.

While I tried coke a few times I never had a good experience so I've let it be: probably just got some bad shit, stomped on.

No, if you want to base it on my pharmaceutical experiences then have me doing MDA, my all time fave.

Good body and mind high, less powerful than acid, but it can spin you.

Case in point: My girlfriend, I and a buddy were tripping at his home off campus when she started screaming loudly, non stop: it probably only lasted a few minutes but it seemed like hours.

She later explained she was staring at the chain holding a hanging lamp when it turned into a snake.

Also word to the wise: don't stare at your image in a mirror while tripping on acid.

We watched every PFDFA commercial ever created, and they were a LOT. We were there for a long time. After watching the PSAs, we had to role play. We had to pretend that we were druggies who were telling their parents our parents that we were drug addicts.

I had to pretend that Jessica and Alex were my mother and father, and I told them that I was hooked on cocaine.

Jessica’s eyes filled with pain, and she torturedly said, “No, no, no,” and tears fell down her face, and she sadly held her stomach. Alex looked shocked, and as if I had just stabbed him in the heart. They were both good actors.

I realized that I didn’t want to put my own “real” parents through this torture. It was a shocking epiphany. After the practice, we ate dinner, we got ready for bed, and went to bed.

When I woke up, I realized that I missed my man. I missed Max. I wanted to see him again. I couldn’t see Max if I was in rehab, so I had to kick this addiction.

In the group session, I spaced out and looked like a zombie vegetable. I was only thinking of Max. I was oblivious to the group session. I spent a good remainder of the session in my own little world. Someone snapped their fingers and I snapped to attention.

“Are you okay, Dave?” Sarah asked me.

“I’m okay. I just miss Max. My friend,” I added.
“You sure he’s not more than just your friend?” Jimmy asked.

I blushed.

‘Come on, we’re not here to judge,” jimmy told me.

I said, ‘Okay, he’s my boyfriend,” I admitted. “We’re in love.” It felt great to get that off my chest. Nobody judged me. I felt accepted.

I strived hard to fight my addiction. It was an uphill battle, but I knew the only was I could see Max was to ‘graduate” from rehab (kick the addiction and be released from rehab). It was hard to fight, and I lost a lot of sweat, but I was determined to make it.

In a private session, the psych said that my life would be much better without the cocaine, and I would be free from the shackles the cocaine had put on me. He told me that I would have a lot more money in my pockets. I believed him.



The ‘graduation” day came, and my final test was a bitch. The staff had purposely left a bag of something that looked a lot like cocaine. If I gave in and snorted it, I would have to stay a week longer. My body begun to crave it, but I had to grit my teeth and will myself to fight the urge. I had to fight very hard to fight the craving. I thought of Max's smiling face and how I could go home to him today if I resisted the urge. I did.

I got my “release” diploma and said goodbye to everyone at the rehab. The psych said that I was the first person to kick a drug addiction at the rehab in just two weeks. I felt proud.

I soon was on my way back to Johnson Academy. When I got there, I was welcomed by a lot of staff, faculty, and alumni.

They cheered for me, and told me that they missed me. I felt very happy.

Those who are experienced know what tripping on hallucinogens is like, and for those who don't: well, I guess it just sucks to be you.

Mr. V left the party with his noggin aflame, his judgment impaired, his opportunities boundless.

The night was a blur; he recalls kicking the wet sand at the waterline and watching it glow; he has a vague impression of receiving his first blow job from a blond Scandinavian goddess, but that could have just been wishful thinking.

Again, most of it was a fantastic, riotous blur, but as dawn approached he re-entered the rental home only to be confronted by his parents while tripping on mescaline.

Not good.

Ultimately he slept and awoke to a truly New Day.

"So, how was your vacation?” Rodney Kelly asked me. He smiled at me.

“It was fine.” I said.

“So, what did you do?” Rodney asked me.

Dean Riley had said that I went to a “vacation” to cover up where I really was.

“I went swimming in the waters of the Caribbean, I ate lots of exotic foods such as Jamaican sugar canes Griot meat, and coconut rice. I went dancing to Reggae music. It was fine. I was lying through my teeth.

Rodney looked jealous. “I wish that were me,” he said, looking resentful.

When I got to my dorm, Max was coming out of his dorm. He smiled at me and I melted. Max came up to me, and stared at me with love in his eyes. I felt loved. We went into my dorm and I unpacked. I put my stuff away, and Max locked my dorm room and then he sat on my bed. He gave me a sexy, seductive smile. I joined him, and he took my hand and held it. “I missed you so much, “he told me, looking at me tenderly.

In the next minute, we were kissing. Our kiss was a deep, French kiss filled with love, longing, need, and want. We were kissing for about two minutes. Max got up and begun removing his clothes, and then he begun removing my clothes. Soon, we were both naked, and Max held me to his naked body. I felt so comfortable.

Max looked deeply into my eyes and gave me another kiss. Then he stroked my face. He went into his pants pocket and took out a condom and some lubricant. I blushed, knowing what he wanted, and I wanted it too. I got on the bed on all fours. ‘We don’t have to do it if you aren’t ready,” Max told me softly and understandably. I said that I was ready. Max smiled and put the condom on himself, and then lubed me liberally. He got behind me, and asked a final time, ‘Is it okay”? I said, “Yes.” He entered me, and I gave my virginity to him. We were both so happy.

I wouldn’t have given my virginity to anyone else but him. I was so glad that I had “graduated” today.

After our lovemaking, Max asked if he could sleep over. I said, ‘sure,” and we got ready for bed and slept in each other’s arms.

When I awoke, we got ready for school. In my English class, someone begun to talk about statutory rape. I squirmed uncomfortably.

Jerry said, “Isn’t that when a minor and an adult have sex and the adult can be arrested?”

“Yes,” Don (the guy who started the discussion) said. In about every place in The United States, if a minor and an adult have sex, the adult can be charged with rape.”

I gulped. “What if the people are 15 and 17?” (Max is 17, I’m 15).

Don said, “I don’t think America counts 17 as an adult yet.”

I breathed a sigh of relief.

I went to lunch in the dining hall, and saw George and Rob. They both gave me an evil smile, and put some salt in their hands, and pretended to snort it. Then they pretended to convulse.

“No. Stop,”” I begged them. I was scared that they would tell the school about my cocaine addiction. And knowing them, they would.

“Hey, Dave, like drinking Coke?” Rob asked me evilly.
“Hey Dave, like coconuts?” George asked evilly.

“Leave me alone,” I said shakily.

“Hey, we’ve got an addict in this school!” George said evilly. Rob chuckled nastily.

“You bitches!” I screamed emotionally at them. I normally don’t curse, but they were pushing me hard.

Everyone looked at me curiously. “I am not an addict,” I said. I wasn’t lying. I had kicked the addiction.

“So, where were you for the past two weeks?” George asked me with a nasty smile.

“I was on vacation,” I said.

“Sure it wasn’t rehab?” Rob asked me with an evil smile.

My stomach begun to twist. “Please stop,” I begged them. “What did I ever do to you?” I was sure I was being tortured.

“Where was this “vacation??” Rob asked.

I told them the same thing I had told Rodney.

They looked unconvinced. George said, “A likely story.” Rob said, “Whatever.”

I finished my lunch and went to classes.

After classes, I was walking back to my dorm, when I saw Freddie. I wasn’t mad at Freddie for getting me hooked on this stuff. I just wouldn’t forget about him.

“Hi, Dave,” Freddie said. “Hi,” I said in a cool tone. “So, where have you been?” Freddie asked.

I gave him a cold stare. “I was in drug rehab,” I told him coldly.

Freddie looked remorseful. “I didn’t mean to get you addicted. I just thought you needed some fun,” he said, sadly.

“Maybe you should have given me a gun and I could have shot myself. How’s that for “fun”? I told him bitterly.

Freddie’s face dropped even more. I could tell that Freddie was really sorry. I felt compassion towards him. And mercy.

“I’m sorry, Dave. I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“I’m not mad at you,” I told him.

Freddie looked relieved. “Thank you,” he said gratefully.

“You’re welcome.” I said.

We went our separate ways, and I went to my dorm. I went to sleep soon. When I awoke, I watched T.V and did my homework.

Max came again that night. As we lay in bed, Max took my hand and we held hands in silence for about two minutes, and then max said, ‘You weren’t really on vacation, were you?” He gave me a knowing smile.

I blushed. Max knew me so well. “I was,” I lied to him.

Max gave me another knowing look. “No, you weren’t.” he said.

“Max, I was on vacation,” I lied again.

“Okay. I’ll swallow that lie for now,” Max said. Somehow he knew I was lying. I really did not want there to be any secrets between us, but I knew he’d be disappointed in me.

“And you couldn’t have called me?” Max asked, still prying.

I blushed. I couldn’t call you where I was on vacation,” I answered.

“Where were you? In prison?” Max exclaimed half-jokingly. I chucked uneasily.

“No,’ I wasn’t in prison,” I said.

“So, where were you?” Max asked again.

“I told you, I was on vacation,” I lied again.

“No, you weren’t,” Max said.

“I thought you told me that you would swallow my lie!” I said, without really thinking.

“Aha! You just admitted that you lied!” Max said triumphantly.

I blushed. ‘Okay, it was a lie,” I admitted sheepishly.

“So, where were you really/’ Max asked me.

I gave him an uncertain look.

Max looked at me thoroughly. “You can tell me anything,” Max said softly.

“You won’t get mad at me?” I asked him.

“No, “ Max said softly and surely.

I took a deep breath. “I was in drug rehab. I was a cocaine addict,” I confessed sadly.

Max looked very solemn. “Are you mad at me? I asked him.

“No, I am not mad,” max said. “I am disappointed. He looked very sad.

“I was afraid of that,” I said.

Max looked at me thoroughly again. He stroked my face. “Is it really over?” He asked.

“What do you mean?” I asked him. Did he mean was our relationship over? I panicked a little inside.

“I mean, are you through with the cocaine? Do you promise to never snort cocaine again?” Max asked.

I breathed a relieved sigh. “Yes, it’s over. I promise never to snort cocaine again,” I promised.

Max smiled at me. “That’s all I needed to hear. I trust that you will keep your promise.”

“I will,” I promised, smiling.

Max got serious again. ‘How did you get the money to support your addiction?” he asked.

I didn’t want to tell him. I looked at him hesitantly.

“Come on, tell me. I won’t get mad,” he coaxed.

“I used the money that my parents gave me for extra food to buy cocaine,” I confessed.

I saw the worried shadows in Max’s eyes. “But, your parents didn’t send you that much money,” he said softly. “Where’d you get the other money?”

I paused hesitantly. I didn’t want to tell him. “Come on, I’m your boyfriend, tell me,” Max coaxed me again.

“I stole it from other students,” I finished admitting.

Max’s eyes filled with pain. “No, Dave, no,” he said, holding his stomach as if he were in physical pain.

“Max, I’m sorry,” I said. I was telling my “A-factor” about my stealing for drugs. It hurt me to see what I had done to Max.

After a while, Max said, “You should get a job to pay those students back what you stole.”

“How am I going to get a job, while I am at this school?” I asked him.

“Get a job at this school,” Max said. “You can work part-time in the library after school for minimum wage until you pay those students back. How much money did you steal from the students?” Max asked.

“$500.00 dollars,” I answered.

“Oh god,” Max said, closing his eyes in pain. Then he opened them up again a few seconds later. $500.00 dollars is a lot, but it’s not unattainable,” he said. “If you work 4 hours a day at the library, including Saturday, you will make $150.00 dollars a week. In about a month, you will have enough to pay back the students,” Max concluded.

I agreed that he had a point, and I asked Dean Riley if I could work in the library to pay the students back.

He agreed, and I worked my butt off in the library. 4 hours a day, 6 days a week. Max even purposely dropped by on one of my shifts to see how I was doing on my job… We smiled at each other and chatted a bit while I rang him up for a few books he was checking out.

It took longer than a month to repay the students, because I used some of the money for my own personal needs( no cocaine though). It took me about two months to earn the money to give the money back to the students. I did it discreetly though. I snuck it into their backpacks when they weren’t looking.

They were pleasantly surprised to find all of their money back. Max told me that he loved me and was proud of me. Dean riley told me he was proud of me too. I thanked Dean Riley for the drug rehab and he said, ,”No problem. You’re welcome.” Max told me that I hadn’t lost his trust, and I felt extremely proud of myself. I found I cherished Max’s trust in me.

I never touched cocaine again. George and Rob never again told anyone about my cocaine addiction either.

The end.

Just curious, do yo have a lot of gay male friends in real life? Did you by accident get into some TV series or book series about gays and it just kind of resonated with you? Why does this topic fascinate you so much?

Quote:

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Originally Posted by pinchingyourballs

Just curious, do yo have a lot of gay male friends in real life? Did you by accident get into some TV series or book series about gays and it just kind of resonated with you? Why does this topic fascinate you so much?

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Could have something to do with her claim of being asexual.

Subconsciously she wants to be fucked down and dirty but she's afraid due to horrible prior life experiences ("Ouch, daddy, that hurt!"); so she fantasizes with fake "straw men," i.e. gays.

The end result would be a form of "safe sex."

The real question is this: "Tasha, when you masturbate what exactly is it you look at to stimulate yourself, or failing that what do you imagine / fantasize to get those synapses a-snappin'?"