This story is set in the 70s. So even though it was a dumb move in the long run, it involves some drug use. I'm honestly not condoning it now, because now I'd probably have a heart attack and die.
And that concludes my disclaimer.
My parents met in college, fell in love, got married and, not long after that, I was ushered into the world.
Well, actually it was sort of a shotgun wedding – either that or I came four and a half months early - but after having me, they decided one was enough. Common sense never seemed to be one of my strong points, so I'm sure that had something to do with them deciding not to have any more.
My mom was an only child, and on my father's side was just one sister: Aunt Francine. She met her husband-to-be in college and probably blackmailed him, but anyway, they had just one child as well, that being their darling Bobby.
Darling Bobby was the first nickname I gave him, but when I was eleven I came up with an even better one: Bob, The Wonder Boy. We never seemed to get along too well back then. Fortunately, they lived in Pennsylvania and we lived in Florida, so I only had to put up with hearing about his latest accomplishments for about a week in the summer when we visited up there and for another week around Christmas when they visited us. Personally, I always thought our living not too far from Disney had a lot to do with their visiting us - that and the weather always being a lot nicer that time of year than it was up there, but no matter what, I never found myself looking forward to seeing them. Especially not Bobby.
First thing I ever looked at in the morning paper was the funnies. Once I got through with them and the sports pages, I was all done. The first thing Bobby looked at was the financial section. Ten years old, and he's checking his portfolio. I go straight to Gasoline Alley, he's scanning the Standard & Poor Index. He was investing the money he earned and would probably be finessing a leveraged buy-out of some Fortune 500 company shortly after he got his driver's license, and I was hoping my parents wouldn't mention me trying to flush my hamster down the commode.
Well, he was my ex-hamster. He died of natural causes - I don't want you to be getting the idea that I was a serial killer in the making or anything like that - but I don't know, I went to feed him one morning, only he'd passed away during the night and I'd recently watched a movie about pirates in which a burial at sea took place, so it just seemed like a good idea. And if he'd gone all the way down, I guess it might have been, but he only went about part of the way down and they ended up having to call a plumber. I thought I never was going to hear the end of it.
So let's forget about that and talk about Bobby and his parents some more.
Okay then. At some point during each visit, we had to see their latest home movies. Aunt Fran and Uncle Nathan playing bingo. Uncle Nathan in his Shriner's Club uniform getting ready to help sell candy for some orphanage. Aunt Fran and Uncle Nathan hosting a cookout. Aunt Fran and Uncle Nathan at Lake Ontario. And, oh my God, there's Aunt Fran's boobs hanging out. And there's Bobby again!
Which might have been of interest if he'd been in Speedos, but he was always modest. Bobby on his paper route. Bobby when his pig won a blue ribbon at the county fair. Bobby in his Boy Scout uniform. Oh, and here are some from his photo shoot. You know, he's doing some modeling now. The agency says he's one of the most photogenic boys they've ever run across. He's just a natural!
I was figuring him modeling underwear was too much to hope for, though. Even seeing him in his underwear was unthinkable!
So I did notice that he was photogenic, guess I always did. `Course, sometimes I was thinking about how much I'd like to see him photographed while being pulled out of the commode, but almost from the start I knew he was good-looking. “Yeah, he's a pretty boy,” I'd sneer to myself, but then I'd probably start thinking about him being caught on camera while sitting on the stool. Or, better yet, just open the door on him when he was in the shower. I could just imagine it. I liked doing that.
It wasn't that I was an ugly child, but Bobby made me feel a bit inferior. Even if he was photogenic. That much, I had to admit.
But he was also modest. He even wore pajamas at night. Always. That's about the only time I could feel a sense of superiority, because I didn't bother with them, I just slept in my skivvies, and since I could tell that this embarrassed him – or at least offended his sense of propriety - well, cool!
(When I was twelve, I was tempted to sleep naked, but I chickened out. My parents probably wouldn't have liked it if they'd found out about it and, knowing Bobby then, he probably would've told on me.)
I figured out that I was gay by the time I was fourteen. Before then I'd only suspected as much. Only, I kept that to myself, so aside from whacking off every chance I got, I had no sex life and I didn't figure I was going to have one anytime soon. Don't know why, but the boys I liked seeing when we were changing out for gym or whatever were the ones who were a lot like me physically. You'd figure I'd have the hots for big hunky jocks, but that's not how it was... which might explain what happened when they were visiting us around Christmas `75.
Bobby was seven months younger than me, so that would have put him right at 13 and a half, which usually means puberty. Prior to their arrival I was hoping he'd developed a bad case of acme, but as it turned out he hadn't. No, he was stunning. Cute. Photogenic. Slender, not quite as tall as I was, (so that would have put him at around 5'-2'') with big blue eyes and neatly combed, stylishly long blond hair. It was awful.
Really, it was, because he was still as modest as he could be. Probably even more so, and he still acted stuck up, and Aunt Fran was still carrying on about him.
I really wasn't thinking about peeking through our bathroom window at him, though. Or at least, not until two nights later, when I was out in the back yard a little after nine and the light went on. The window was cracked open and I knew who it was, but that's all I could see, because the blinds were shut.
So I thought to myself, "I wonder..."
Then I saw his shirt go up. I was on the other side of the yard, but I thought about it some more, and then, in just a matter of seconds, with my heart hammering away about a million miles an hour, I was right up at the window. With a stepladder.
Oh, like you ain't never done anything like that yourself.
Only, guess what: I was too late. That boy could undress in a hurry, and all I saw was his ass as he stepped inside the shower, and I just barely caught a glimpse of that and then the door closed and I couldn't see shit. I could see his steamed up silhouette, but I wanted to see more. I'd gone to all that trouble and I couldn't even tell for sure if he'd started growing hair yet. Even if it looked like... It couldn't be. No way!
But it looked to be above average, so A: I wanted to see it and B: If it was anywhere near as above-average as it looked through the steamed-up pebbled-glass shower door, I hated him even more. It just didn't seem fair!
So I waited. If I'd had any common sense, I wouldn't have, but I had to get a look. Because, like I said, he was photogenic. It was really frustrating, though. I mean, when he washed between his legs, he had his back turned. Shit!
But finally he turned off the water, opened the door and... then his mouth dropped open, a shocked look crossed his face and he quickly reached back and switched the light off. Damn. I thought for sure he wasn't going to be able to see out, but... guess I was wrong.
For a little while, I was thinking some really bad thoughts, but when it came to doing away with myself, I just lacked the nerve. It was an awfully big step, but still, I was shaking all over. I hated myself. I was so stupid! But I gathered my wits about me as best I could, returned to stepladder to its place beside the utility shed, quickly walked inside and said to my mom, “I'm going for a walk. I'll be back in a little while, okay?” and away I went. Only as you might imagine, I couldn't think of anything, so finally I gave up and guessed I might as well go home and face the music. If nothing else, maybe they wouldn't ever visit us again.
Only to my surprise nobody said anything. When I got back they were watching another home movie, and Aunt Fran looked up and said, “Jonathan!” (That's me, by the way.) “I'm so glad you're back! Bobby's about to get the Future Business Man of the year award! You want to see that, don't you?”
Right then he was sitting a couple of chairs away, but not staring daggers through me – in fact, he was ignoring me – so as casually as I could manage, I said sure. I always wanted to see him getting another award, that's what I lived for.
But, anyway, at this point, it's time to summarize. I felt like shit, I felt like the lowest thing to ever walk on the face of the earth, but I'd just as soon not dwell on it, okay? Even if seeing as how I went to all that trouble to get a look at him naked, I might as well mention what I saw. Even if I only saw it for a few seconds.
He had the cutest little brown bush. And then there was his dick. I'm only guessing, but it probably was a good four inches. Soft. Well, okay, maybe it was three and a half. I only got to look at it for about a second, so I'm really not sure. I ought to ask him about it sometime.
Well, maybe, but you can be sure it wasn't on that night. He didn't say a single word to me. Not before we went to my room for the night (I was half expecting him to say he'd sleep on the couch) and not when he crawled into his sleeping bag. (And I was also expecting him to be fully clothed, but he still changed into his pajamas. In the bathroom, of course.) But he didn't say one word until finally I mumbled, “I'm sorry, okay? I don't know... well, I didn't mean anything by it, but...”
Then he cut me off with, “So why'd you do it, then? You gay or something?”
“I don't know. ... Maybe. But...”
“Well, I'm not. But don't worry about it. I'm not telling anybody about it this time. Just don't let it ever happen again, okay?”
And that took care of that.
I could only feel like the lowest thing to ever walk on the face of the earth for so long, though, then I decided I hated him. It wasn't hard to do, because as I've mentioned already, I never was all that crazy about him in the first place. So if there was any way possible, then I wasn't going with my folks to their place up in Pennsylvania that summer. If I had to, I'd even get a job, so I couldn't get time off to go, and as for when they visited us, well, I'd ignore him completely. I'd just be icy cool.
So, okay. Since this happened in the seventies, if you were a geek and you wanted to become a cool dude, what route do you think you might take to achieve that exalted state? Drugs, perhaps?
In the seventies? Shit, yeah. I'd already tried it a few times, but now? I was going to be a pothead and proud of it. I was going to get wasted every chance I got!
Even if I went to some pains to keep it from my parents. But, seriously, at school it was like nobody gave a shit if you did or not. This was in the seventies, remember. So you didn't fire one up in the middle of biology class, but in the bathroom or out behind the bleachers, no worries. Sometimes it seemed like over half the school was doing it, even if I'd say that only about 15% let their parents in on the secret. Well, I'm not sure, actually... but I still wasn't letting mine in on it if I could help it.
But by April I was cool, and that was good, because that's when we heard from Aunt Fran again. Uncle Nathan was a bookkeeper at one of the steel mills up there, but the mill was shutting down and he was out of a job. After all the years he'd put into that company. So they hated to impose on us, but they'd been talking it over and maybe it was for the best, because her health really wasn't all that good anyway, so they were going to be staying with us until he could find another good job. With his qualifications, it probably wouldn't be for long, but still...
Well, I wasn't looking forward to it, but I since I was cool by then I didn't give a shit one way or the other.
Honest. I noticed he was even better looking once they were there, but beyond that, I didn't so much as give him the time of day. Want to know how cool I was? I decided I'd sleep out in the garage, he could have my room all to himself for however long they were there. I thought it was way cool, because I could sneak out easier.
Even if I did mention that to him once. I still had to be cool, but an icy “How's it going?” and things of that nature were permissible because you had to keep up appearances. So to impress on him that I really was cool and didn't care about seeing him naked any more, I casually mentioned that sleeping in the garage really worked out better for me because I could come and go pretty much as I pleased. Guessed he could make what he wanted to out of that. So there.
And so it was that two nights later after I thought everybody had gone to bed, I was out behind the utility shed toking away when Bobby came sneaking up and whispered, “Boo! ... I caught ya!”
I wasn't expecting that. It was so unexpected, I almost pissed myself... except once I'd stopped wheezing I noticed that he didn't seem to be all that shocked. In fact, the way he was grinning, I could almost swear he…
“So, you gonna smoke the whole damn thing, or what?”
Well, like I said, this was in the seventies. So while not all members of the National Honor Society were doing it, it still wasn't unheard of. People you'd never dream of did it. It was rampant back then. But never mind all that, because I was shocked beyond belief. And I also, right at that moment, started feeling a crawling sensation in my groin. Not that I was expecting him to get naked or anything, but at least we now shared something we couldn't let our folks in on. And you know what? I thought it was great. Or at least I was pretty sure I did. “Um, what, you want a hit?”
That almost made me squirt.
For the next week or so we got high together right often. We talked about... well, cool stuff. What groups we liked, that sort of thing. I asked him once how his stocks were doing. He said they were taking care of themselves and then added that it wasn't like he was all at once retarded, but at that point, neither was I. Except for English Grammar, my grades were holding steady, but the deal was, I never cared too much for grammar anyway. I always liked the Literature part, though, so that still balanced my overall grade out to a B-.
But, anyway, for about a week we just talked about cool stuff. Including allusions to just how cool we were ourselves. So of course we tried to act that way and the totally uncool event that happened back around Christmas was never mentioned. Not until one night when out of the blue he exhaled coolly, passed it back to me and asked, “So I was just wondering. Are you bi or what?”
That was a sophisticated question. I can assure you that most junior high students weren't too sophisticated in that area, no more then than now, but if you think about it, there are more a few bi rock stars. Along with others who are out and out gay and proud of it, but being able to say those rockers were cool if in fact they were, meant you were. You were sophisticated. You didn't care about their life style, all that mattered was, they rocked!
And besides, I'd already told him that I might be gay. On that awful night, and I honestly didn't think he'd forgotten about it, so if he was cool enough to bring it up, I'd be cool enough to answer. “Yeah, I guess I'm bi,” I said with a slight tremor, “Does that bother you?” (You really weren't expecting me to be completely honest, were you?)
“No,” he assured me, “Not at all. It's your life, so what the hell, you know?”
That's when my gaydar went off. Not that it was well-developed – it never was, to tell you the truth – but I definitely started getting stiff. I wasn't sure where this line of questioning was headed for, but...
I glanced over at his lap, and immediately noticed a tell-tell tent-like formation, and to this day, I still can't believe that I didn't pass out right then and there.
Think about it, all right? I'd never done anything with another boy. Except sneak peeks in gym or something. Then I'd go home and jerk off, but that was it. I'd heard of blow jobs and the like, and I hoped one day somebody I liked wouldn't mind going that route with me, but I had no earthly idea when that day was going to come. But...
“So - just out of curiosity - what were you thinking about last Christmas when you were looking in the window at me?”
Actually what I was thinking was just that I wanted to get a good look, it didn't go any further, but I took a deep breath and quietly replied, “Well, I guess I wanted to suck your dick.”
Hearing those words come out of my mouth actually made me squirt. Just a little one, but still, I was shocked. But the way I looked at it, at worse I could say, “I was stoned out of my mind last night. Did I say that? Tell me I didn't. I didn't really, did I?”
If it hadn't been for being wasted, I probably never would have gotten those words out in the first place. That still doesn't mean I'm condoning illegal drug use, though.
Even if there were a few good things about it. “Oh,” he squeaked. (If you talked while you were inhaling, you invariably squeaked.) Then he exhaled slowly, giggled, (I'd never heard him giggle before) and finished, “So... where's a good place to do it?”
Then my mouth dropped open and a shocked look crossed my face. Just for a second or so. I'm almost sure of it, because all at once it occurred to me that I was way out on a limb on this deal. So, see, that's a good reason not to do drugs. Not ever.
Even if on the other hand... I started to say, “I guess in the garage,” but then I remembered I couldn't have the lights on in there, and since I was going to do it, I might as well get a good look. So instead I stammered, “Well, I guess we can go in here.” Which would be the utility building we were behind right then. There, I could switch the light on.
Oh, and another thing. I could also mention that I hadn't ever done anything like that before, but I did sort of wonder what it would be like. But in the garage we'd have to be very quiet. So while he had his back to me hurriedly stepping out of his clothes, I did mention it.
“Oh, it's not really horrible or anything,” he said, casually. Then he turned around and...
My mouth might have dropped open once again. Or maybe not, because I was already close to hyperventilating before he turned around. He had a beautiful ass. Very white, but with a lovely tan line. Definitely photogenic.
But then he turned around facing me and I blurted – breathed – squeaked? - “Geez!”
He shrugged. Almost apologetically.
“Um... how... Do you know how... big... Damn!”
“Oh, it's not that big. ... A little over six and half inches?”
“Oh, it's not that big,” I mimicked, and then I took a deep breath. “Well, okay, I'll do my best.”
I dropped to my knees and shuffled up to him. It twitched slightly. I put my right hand around it, and it twitched again. Almost jerked, in fact. I caught my first whiff. A familiar enough smell, a bit stale and gamy, almost the same smell I had in my undies after I'd been wearing them all day, and I knew all boys around my age could smell that way, but... this was Bob, the wonder boy! I mean, holy fucking shit, you know?
Tentatively, I opened my mouth. Made the familiar O shape. Winced. And I hadn't even tried getting it in yet. Tried to make a funny. “Well, there sure ain't nothing like going in on the deep end. Bet my jaw is going to ache for a day. At least!”
“Oh, it won't either!”
“How in the hell would you know?” and with that, I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and... Okay, it's in my mouth now. I can't believe I'm doing this!
First time, it was like every single thing was new. The head of his penis was spongy soft, the shaft below was hard as an iron pipe. Of course. Just like mine was, except his was bigger. And mine was about average, okay? But I hadn't had mine in my mouth before, either. And I sure hadn't had anyone else's in my mouth, so of course... Okay, I'm gonna lick on his pee hole.
And that worked really really good. He gasped and...
I had no idea what it would be like. But the way he was wiggling and gasping, I was expecting an eruption, not just a squirt. It was almost polite. Followed by two or three more. It tasted sort of like mine did: slightly salty, sort of like chlorine bleach or something, so I knew right away it had happened, but it just... well, it just sort of slid out. That's what it seemed like. Even if I was messed up at the time, so who knows? But, one time when I was jerking off, my first shot ended up on my glasses, and the second hit my chin. I was horny that day. So I was figuring when he blew it would be spectacular, and in a way I was dreading it because I didn't want to start choking, but... squirt? That was it? Squirt?
I let it slide out and sighed. It was a relief, because I wasn't used to having something that big in my mouth. So I guessed in a way it was good that he came so quick. I swallowed, but I could still taste... his stuff...
That's when it hit me. Really and truly... Oh shit. I'd just sucked... well, at least he had his dick in my mouth... but I had just...
“Hey, Jonathan, you all right? You're not gonna start freaking out on me, are you?”
I was considering it.
Bobby started, “First time I... Oh shit. Let's switch places here, all right?”
That didn't immediately register.
“Just stand up... just a minute here, so we can get your pants down...”
I didn't hear that right. I couldn't have.
But he was helping me to my feet and then he knelt down in front of me and started working on my pants and I...
I should have fainted at that point. I'm still not sure how I avoided it. Honest, I started getting light-headed. I could not believe what was happening. There was no way in hell...
Then he had it in his hand and he took a deep breath and all at once that wet warmth closed around my dick, and you know what? He was good! All the way down to my pubes he went. Sheesh! For a little bit I was thinking, “Oh, my- God. Ohmygod. Oh-my-God!!” Sorry, but that's about all I can recall. Except that I was glad I hadn't fainted. Shit, I would have missed everything!
To be honest, I think that last sentence would have been a great way to end this story. I don't want to seem full of myself here – I mean, occasionally I am, but I still don't want it to seem that way – but I really liked that. But even so, I guess you might want a few more details on this. I sure was interested in finding out some more, so...
So okay, I'll add a little more.
I definitely was wanting to know more while he was at it the first time. When he swallowed my balls, I was like, “What in the fuck... oh my God”... kablewy, and I'm pretty sure it wasn't just a few polite squirts, no way! And he swallowed every bit, right down to that last little squirt that always comes after you figure you've got everything in the Kleenex or whatever.
So of course I was looking at him with a look of utter and complete shock. Not that I was upset, mind you, but still...
“So I guess you're wondering how I got to be so good at this, huh?”
“Um, yeah.” I giggled. “I mean, I don't understand how...”
“I've known I was gay for at least two years. But I didn't want anyone else to know about it, okay?”
“Oh, I know all about that! But last Christmas, when I...”
“I couldn't deal with it then. But...” (and I started to interrupt but he shushed me with), “Let me finish, okay? I was shy about undressing in front of anybody, and before you say it, yeah, I know not wanting to be seen naked could be a hindrance to ever getting it on with anybody. But about the middle of January I was over at this guy's house, and the deal was that I had the hots for him. I didn't want to let on to him about how I felt, but maybe he could see right through me. That wouldn't surprise me. So he got me a little drunk and we were wrestling around on the floor. Then he started feeling me off. So I started groping him back, but it was a set-up, okay? All he wanted to do was get me hot, because he wanted a blow job. And he got it. Not as good as the one I just gave you, because that was my first time, but he got his blow job. Only thing was, he wanted more and the way he put it to me was, I'd do it whenever he wanted or he'd tell everybody at school I was a cock sucker. I was a little faggot. So, no, he didn't return the favor, not then, not ever. But I swear, Jonathan, sometimes I almost liked it! I hated being used, but part of me... it was like if I kept pleasing him, maybe one day he'd really like me. Shit, Jonathan, I was his fuck boy. It wasn't all bad, but deep down inside... well, I'm just glad we're down here now.”
“Yeah, well, I'm glad you are, too. And I'm sorry about that other guy, and you didn't really have to tell me that.”
“I figured after you sucked me off, I was safe in that regard.”
Then he saw the look on my face, and finished, “I didn't mean it that way. It just came out wrong. .... What I really wanted to say is, I'm glad... well, is it okay if I just like you right now? I do, but I'm not sure if it'll ever be more than that. I just want to be honest, all right? And I'm glad I can be that way with you, so is that okay?”
I could certainly think of worse situations.
Sometimes you think you know everything you need to know about somebody, when the fact is, you don't know anything. I guess lots of people have stories like that.
Sometimes I still call him Bob, the Wonder Boy, but now we both know I mean it. If nothing else, he's good at finances, and to have a good partnership, something like that can come in very handy.
But beyond that, even though at first he couldn't promise it, he did end up falling in love with me. So that worked out really well, because I'd already fallen in love with him. And we still are.
He decided he might be in love with me June 3, 1976. So it didn't take real long, and besides, I already knew he liked me a lot. So that was okay. Even if we still weren't going any further. It was too big!
About a week later, though, he finally talked me into it, and would you believe it? It finally went all the way in! To say the least, it was uncomfortable at first, but it got a lot better.
Like our relationship, I guess.