Read part 1 here.
Monday, September 13, 2010
When I was 14, I toured with a swing choir to some central Illinois town to perform with some other youth chorale, and we were farmed out for housing. I shared a bed with some kid who kept going on and on about Mel Grant, one of the girls in our group. He was a little obsessed. After a while he pulled out his meager porn collection, pointing to one image and talking about how much she reminded him of that girl. “Oh, that Mel Grant. I just can’t stop thinkin’ about that Mel Grant. I bet her titties look that good…” After a little while smiling and enduring his single-track mind, and pretending to be interested in the pretty titties, he announced that he was “taking a sleeping pill” to help him sleep, and that he’d be hard to wake up…
Uh huh…
I lay in bed wide awake until I heard what sounded like sleep sounds. I hesitated about 15 minutes, just contemplating what I wanted to do… and then I reached over and oh-so-gingerly felt his penis inside his white underwear. Sleeping pill or no, he had a definite boner.
As gently as I could, I just felt it in my hand and within seconds, was pulsing warm semen into my own underwear. I got up, cleaned up as well as I could and came back with the front of my briefs quite damp. He was still “asleep” and soon so was I.
I replayed that moment too during my quality alone time, and I think I may have thought about us masturbating together, but I just don’t recall.
Over the next three years I started having sex, first with my girlfriend, who I fucked and tongued, and then with Ray, my first man-crush. He was 19 and I was 15 so yeah… he was breaking the law, but I knew nothing about that. I only knew that I wanted to touch him and suck him and I did… a few times, anyway. I was a crappy cocksucker back in those days. He was also quite well-endowed, I understood later.
And as my last year of high school wound on, I had a couple of “three-ways” with me and another guy basically tag-fucking my girlfriend while not actually playing with each other, and I think I had one blow job in a department store men’s room before I graduated, but it wasn’t until I left home and went to college that I came out and started just exploring everything.
I also explored a lot of drugs—a lot of drugs—during the next few years (ergo, the dodgy memory) but I think it was sometime during that mid-seventies era that I read about New York Jacks. I don’t remember where I saw it… Something about that thought, and the parade of images it invoked in my cock-obsessed mind, riveted my attention like that lean guy with the tan lines at the Aqua Center. Something about the concept of a jack-off club was immensely compelling to me, but as a young man now exploring all that being gay had to offer, from bath houses and bars to disco, acid and orgies, I was supposed to want to fuck butt and suck cock and trick out, not merely jack off with other guys…
I have a lot of patience for young people. It takes time to work out what you really want and what you really don’t.
It is a minor miracle that I emerged from the seventies without having caught a single STI (we called them venereal diseases back then) and I most definitely did not use a condom once in all that time. Why would I? I topped and bottomed and gave and took and fisted… although I never took more than three fingers in my ass… and abused my body enough to get some pretty nasty hemorrhoids…
But the Jacks seemed very far away. They may as well have been in Atlantis. I was probably never going to get there but the idea was planted firmly in my mind and it was not going away anytime soon…
(to be concluded…)