The Childhood That Was Taken Chapter lX.🔞

⚠️ EXPLICIT CONTENT WARNING⚠️
This chapter includes very graphic sex scenes, cum play, dirty talk, profanity, and raw sexual content.
Not suitable for anyone under 18. You have been warned.

After the suicide attempt everything changed, and yet nothing really changed. I was still living in my grandmother’s house, in my old room, where the walls seemed to know everything. My body was slowly healing, but the soul could not heal so quickly. My days were spent in the small shop, where I stocked the shelves, operated the cash register, and tried to act as if everything was fine.
That was where I met József.
József, or as I later called him, John, was a kind, quiet young man who came into the shop almost every day. He was about twenty-five, tall, strong build, with a short beard. He always smiled when he paid, and once or twice he stopped to talk. He had a little son, and a wife whom he had married very young. One afternoon, when we were almost closing, he asked if I would like to have a beer sometime. I said yes.
A few days later he came to my place. My grandmother was not home, so we went out to the garden, sat on the old wooden bench, and opened the first bottles. The conversation started easily. He told me that he became a father at only twenty. They had not used protection, the girl got pregnant, and the families immediately put pressure on them. “Get married, it’s your duty,” they said. So he married a girl he barely knew.
As the beer disappeared, the mood became more and more honest. At one point John fell silent, then quietly, a little drunk, he said:
“You know… sometimes I wonder what it would be like with a guy. I’ve never tried it. But I’m curious.”
My heart jumped into my throat. I looked at him for a long time before I spoke.
“John… I’m gay.”
There was silence. I saw him shocked, but he did not pull away. He just looked at me for a long time. Then very quietly he said:
“If you want… I could try it with you.”
We went to the end of the garden, to a completely hidden corner where the trees and bushes completely hid us. We undressed. Both of us were hard. John was nervous, but curious. He knelt in front of me, and carefully, but surprisingly skillfully took me into his mouth. The warm wetness and his tongue almost immediately took my breath away.
Later I asked him if he would fuck me. He nodded. Gently, but decisively he entered me. He did not rush. He moved slowly, deeply, and when he came, I felt him fill me hotly. I also came, on the ground. Afterward we held each other for a long time, panting, sweaty. We agreed that we would repeat it. John said he really liked it.
But the next morning everything changed.
My stepfather unexpectedly appeared at my grandmother’s house. He was surprisingly kind. He asked worriedly how I was, how I felt. He said he would like to help in the garden. I accepted. We worked together all day: we spread manure, hoed, watered. It was a pleasant spring day, the air full of the scent of flowers. We talked a lot, and we drank a lot. We worked with beers.
As time passed and he became more and more drunk, the mood changed. At first he only questioned me – why I did what I did. I told him what I told everyone else: because of a girl who cheated on me. He just shook his head and said I was stupid if I wanted to die because of a woman.
Then suddenly his face changed.
He was no longer kind. The alcohol had completely taken over him. He suddenly hit me. Hard, in the face. Then again. And again. I fell to the ground. I tried to defend myself, but he was much stronger. He tore my clothes off and brutally, cruelly raped me.
While he pinned me to the ground, he hissed into my ear:
“I know you’re a faggot. Don’t lie to me. I saw your letter. That letter you wrote to your friend in Pest. I read everything.”
His words cut into me like a knife. I froze. He continued, rougher and rougher, crueler and crueler. Every movement brought pain. I cried, I trembled, I begged him to stop, but he did not listen. He just beat me and used my body, as if he wanted to take revenge for something I never understood.
When he was finished, he leaned over me, panting. His face was very close to mine. His eyes were cold.
“If you tell anyone, I will cut your throat. Do you understand? One word, and you die. And not just you. Your grandmother too.”
I trembled. My body hurt, my soul was shattered. I just nodded, tears running down my face. He stood up, straightened himself, and left as if nothing had happened.
I remained on the ground, alone, in the garden, trembling from the pain, the fear, and the shame. The sun was still shining, the birds were singing, but I only heard the silence inside me.
And I knew that this silence would now stay with me forever.