Free Jonathan's Hope by Hans M Hirschi

flash at his colleagues at the golf club where he’d shower, the way he’d look at guys on TV.
    Yes, as unbelievable and unlikely as it may sound, Jonathan’s father was a faggot, a fairy, a poofter, a cocksucker. Like father, like son.
    He had grown up in a small town, in a different town. There were no gay people then, oh no. Not on TV, not on any stage, not in any book. He didn’t even hear the word gay until he was in college in the city, studying to be a lawyer. His childhood had been sheltered, his parents loving and caring. He had many friends in school, was popular, and good at sports. He never even thought about sex with boys or girls. All that came when he got to college, when sin washed all over him.
    Don’t take that the wrong way, he wasn’t a religious man. Sure, in the small town he’d grown up, everybody went to church on Sundays. He did too, along with his parents and his younger sister. They weren’t particularly religious and Jonathan’s grandparents weren’t shoving their faith down anybody’s throat.
    When he got to college, he realized that he was odd, that he was different. His roommate would be talking about girls, their boobs, their asses, the smell and taste of pussy and he knew nothing. He had never even been that close to a girl. He had never touched a bosom, didn’t know the feeling of holding a girl’s breast in his hands, the softness. He didn’t know what pussy smelled like, not to mention its taste.
    More so, Jonathan’s father didn’t understand the appeal. He didn’t think that anything was wrong with him, not until his roommate looked at him one morning, growling, “What’re you looking at, you gay or what?” He had been caught staring at his naked roommate, putting on fresh underwear after returning from the showers.
    “Gay? What’s gay?” he’d asked his roommate, a question he’d soon learned to regret forever. From that day on, he was the queer, the faggot, the gay guy. By the end of the semester, his roommate had moved out, too uncomfortable to be around him. He had been caught, he had been outed, and he still didn’t know what he was. His roommate only laughed at him. It wasn’t until he got to the library, where he secretly looked up the g-word in an encyclopedia, that he realized he had been accused of desiring another man.
    Over the coming weeks, he realized that his roommate had been right. He had indeed a different reaction, physically, mentally, as he looked at college boys, their groins, their asses, their faces even, than he would while looking at a pair of boobs, or a girl’s ass. Nothing happened, but boy would he feel his throat go dry whenever he saw a jock or caught a nice piece of college hunk ass.
    Naturally, at that time, there were no gay fraternities, no gay clubs, no gay-straight alliances, and he was left to his own devices, having to figure it all out for himself. That’s when he made a serious mistake.
    The semester had ended and he returned to his hometown, to help his father on the farm. They’d work all summer. It was hard work with no time to play. That summer was different, as his sexual lust had been awoken, and he stared at every farm hand around. He’d stare at the boys at church, guys in town, he was so horny that it nearly killed him. He’d touch himself more often than he could count but it still didn’t quench the fire burning within him.
    Desperate for guidance, he sought out his church’s priest, knowing that he had been sworn to silence. Whatever he would tell the priest, it would stay between them. What Jonathan’s father didn’t know was that the priest wouldn’t react well to this particular sheep’s confession.
    And so the priest in his church warned him of sin, of abominations, of hell and eternal fires. He quoted passages from the bible, spoke of Leviticus and certain damnation. He was not unkind, no, quite the contrary. He pitied him, which hurt him badly. He didn’t want pity, but pity he got, along