The Journal of Julian Corsair,

An Uncommonly Good Man


Copyright© 2014 – Nicholas Hall



Julian Corsair – Chapter Seventeen –

"What a lively lad pleasured me

of all that with me lay?

I answer that I gave my soul

and loved in misery,

But had great pleasure with a lad

that I loved bodily.


Flinging from his arms I laughed

To think his passion such

He fancied that I gave a soul

Did but our bodies touch,

And laughed upon his breast to think

Beast gave beast as much."



Summer mornings are meant for radiant sunrises, the singing of birds, the sweet fragrance of wild flowers in their prime wafting about on the morning breeze, and the pleasant soothing sounds of Pauley's cock, sliding back and forth in it's now well accustomed berth. Wakened by the gentle prodding, poking, and teasingly silent, but tactile, request to raise one leg for better access, I willingly allowed him passage through the straits, as he worked up a full head of steam for the voyage ahead. Stimulating my love button on each pass, we both were rewarded at journey's end by reaching port at the same time, unloading our cargo, and readying ourselves for a short shore-leave.

We lay joined together until he softened and slipped out; kissing him (God, he could kiss), I bade him remain and regain his strength or rest, whatever he desired, since it was far too early for him to be up – all of him, that is, not just his cock! Slipping on my boxers, I walked to the kitchen, started our coffee, and retired to the porch to enjoy the morning and sunrise on the lake.

To my surprise, Ben was already up, sitting in a chair, dressed only in his boxer briefs. A quick glance at his crotch confirmed my surmise from the night before and observed evidence of a very recent wank; creamy cum stains, still damp, adorning the front near the fly. His male appendage was not quite erect under its cloth cover, but not yet fully flaccid, and reached, in the current state of arousal, up to the elastic of his underwear, but with a little more rigidity, would extend up to and perhaps past his navel. He might be younger than Pauley, but certainly was much bigger. Remembering my experiences early in my life, I knew something like that would hurt like hell the first couple of times it rammed it's way home up the rear portal.

Ben neither apologized nor made any attempt to disguise his most recent activities and I made no comment as I readjusted my own shorts since Pauley's cargo shipment was slowly dripping from my loading dock.


"Nah, but if you have a cold Pepsi® in the fridge, I'd take that," he quickly responded, noticing my own embarrassment as I stood.

"Thanks for letting me listen while Uncle Paul read last night. Do you guys read every night?"

"No, usually just on weekends; sometimes what we read tends to– shall we say- bring out the more amorous tendencies in your Uncle Paul and we ..."

"Fuck like rabbits," he giggled and tilted his head looking at my ass; then it hit him, no different than lightning from a thundercloud! "So that's why this is called the `Rabbit Patch!'"

"Right-O; however, that's not common knowledge," I warned. "The same as what happens here, stays here, and is between us and no one else, okay?"

He was quick to agree; it wasn't his desire to speak out in the community concerning his sexual preferences or anyone else's for that matter. Ben and I had nice chat while drinking coffee and soda. He was as virgin as the best imported olive oil from Italy, except for his right or left hand, depending on how he wanted to jackoff and was, as far as he knew, deep in the closet. Ben had many of the fears and insecurities of gay lads; fearful of being ostracized by classmates or family, being bullied verbally or electronically, and having the very b-Jesus beat out of him by some red-neck thug for being gay. As a result, he felt there was no one he could talk to concerning his feelings and what he was looking for.

Ben definitely didn't want one-night stands or just plain casual sex. I agreed and encouraged him to be cautious, be safe, and take his time in finding his soul-mate, someone he really loved, contrary to my own somewhat sordid past prior to meeting Dr. Corsair, which for some reason, I neglected to tell him, and then Pauley, whom I loved dearly.

Pauley fixed breakfast while I packed lunches for him and Ben. Some days and I'd join Pauley for lunch, but not today! I had some business to conduct at the bank.

I met with Mr. Chandler at the bank after lunch, wishing to discuss establishing a scholarship trust in the name of Julian Corsair. Once he understood my request, he called Mr. Bainbridge over at the Community Initiative Fund to join us. Stanley was quite helpful in roughing out the requirements a high school senior needed to apply for and be chosen to receive the scholarship. This wouldn't be much different than the requirements needed for the other four scholarships Dr. J. established for Miss Harrison, Dr. Arnold, John Edwards, and Geoffrey Bentley-Hughes. It was then I learned a scholarship had also been established in Darnell Anderson's name by his children, along with a contribution from Dr. J.

There was to be one major difference in the Corsair Scholarship compared to the other four Julian established; the recipient was to be awarded, not to the best student, although this was not an exclusion, but to the most needy, who, in spite of their own needs, gave much to others. In fact, that was to be the one very stringent requirement to be met before all others, such as average to above average scholarship in their chosen field, whether college preparatory or vocational, and participation in school and community activities. What I was really seeking was that particular student who was a "plugger," worked hard at school and home, and gave much in return, while still working to overcome his or her own personal difficulties. The scholarship, in the amount of one thousand dollars, was to be paid at the beginning of the second semester of the collegiate year.

We agreed the attorney representing the Community Initiative Fund would prepare a draft document, my attorney would review it, suggest changes, if any, and when we all agreed, be signed and the scholarship would be established. I'd make a sufficient contribution to the Fund to establish the trust which would reward the scholarship in perpetuity, using interest from the principle. The Fund would charge a nominal fee for administering the scholarship trust and post to me annual statements of earnings and awards of the scholarship.

Our business transactions completed, before I left, I queried Darnell Chandler concerning the stock holders of the bank. "I know I hold seventeen shares of stock, the maximum any one of the original stockholders could possess; does anyone else hold that many shares?"

"No!" a very straight-forward and complete answer, to a point, and offered no more.

I frowned in thought and asked, "Will all of the share-holders be at the annual share-holders meeting in October?"

Again, "I don't know!" was his answer and no more.

Okay, this was getting me nowhere fast and I could see Darnell Chandler was going to offer me no more than a simple answer, holding those secrets banks have as secrets and none of my damned business, so I changed my tactics and asked a different question, one I hoped would catch him off-guard and perhaps enlighten me more.

"Perchance, Darnell, are there any shares being held in trust by the bank or a law firm in confidentiality?"

"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say," he replied, extended his hand, as did Stanley Bainbridge, and thanked me for my generosity.

It was a busy week; Ben came home every night tired as was Pauley. The weather was great, with no storms postponing mowing or other yard work, so they were able to get a leg up on some of the bigger projects, such as cemeteries. Pauley, Ben, and I sorted ourselves out on the couch and the floor in the living room after supper Saturday evening and Pauley picked up the journal.


A couple of days after Momma left, Dr. Arnold took me aside and said, "Julian, you have suffered a great loss, but not as great as some from this war and the aftermath. I was once told, `I complained about having no shoes, until I met a man with no feet' and so must you do as many of us do, carry on with your life and be the person you want to be, not what others think you should be. You have dear friends in Darnell, Miss Harrison, and me. Emily Harrison loves you like the son or grandson she never had and I see you as one of my brightest protégés. You are blessed with good looks, an uncommonly bright mind, an innate curiosity to learn as much as you can, and a maturity beyond your years. You may be street tough on the outside, but beneath it all is a deep humanity and so you will share that in your life, of that I'm certain. You'll do well in the future and once you pull yourself out of this funk, I urge you to see every glass as half-full and not half-empty."

Given that advice, he also informed me he thought it was time to divest my holdings of livestock (pigs and chickens) and set the earnings aside in short-term investments. "The economy is improving, but unemployment will be up with all of the service people returning, and more people will begin producing agriculture produce to feed the home front and the world. I just think it might be wise to "stash cash" and wait for better investment opportunities. Besides, in less than four years you'll be off to college and need the money for that."

Of course, I agreed and that's exactly what we did. School then became my passion; cross-country track, chess and science club, choir, and my academics. Miss Harrison attended all of my parent-teacher conferences and not once did anyone question why she did. She and Dr. Arnold also attended all of my home track meets and choir concerts. At the Christmas Concert, they sat down front and beamed with pride. I had a fine tenor voice and sang a small solo and you would've thought I was the whole concert as far as they were concerned.

For Christmas, Miss Harrison gave me a new cardigan sweater and I gave her a wool shawl to keep her shoulders warm in the cool evenings of winter. Dr. Arnold received a bottle of brandy and he gave me a bank book with my original deposit I'd absconded from Tony. Included in it were the interest deposits earned and the sale of my livestock investments.

"This should help you at UW- Madison," he stated, "or wherever you go." He also tossed in a hundred dollars from him as a Christmas present to me.

Darnell and his wife, other than the Christmas ham they gave to us, presented to the world, three days before the Holiday, a fine, healthy baby boy. God that man was so proud, and well he should be. This blessed event was followed, in 1948, barely eleven months later, with a delicate, beautiful baby girl.

Toward the end of January, a great-nephew of Miss Harrison's stopped by the house. He was married with two small children and was recently discharged from active duty. It was his desire to go to UW- Madison, which was in commuting distance, and needed a place to live for his family. If possible, he wanted to stay with her and me and would be willing to help with household expenses. It was a god-send for us. I could still keep my bedroom and they could use the other two and have the house as well. Miss Harrison would stay in her apartment and I would eat my meals with her and spend my time there, when not in my room. I'd been contributing what I could from my savings to help her out, but it was still tight, so she readily agreed.

The next three and a half years just seemed to whizz by! My days were full of school assignments and lessons, school activities, helping around the house, and once a month, I was invited to the discussion session Dr. Arnold held in his home, hosting those learned sages from the university, present and past, to add their discourse and intellect to the expanding knowledge of the universe and to me, in particular. There was no greater expectation in my life than those wonderful evenings spent in the midst of such intellectual entities.

Darnell's little ones continued to grow and flourish out on the farm under the loving care of his father and mother, and of course, me since I took every opportunity to spoil them, Darnell thought. He and his wife had two more sons, one born in 1950 and another in 1952, but by that time I was at UW-Madison. He and I continued to be best of friends and, although we didn't partake of our previous activities, he loved me and I loved him and his wife and family. Darnell was and always would be, my best friend.

They were never hesitant to drop off a couple dozen eggs or a hundred pounds of potatoes or bags of sweet corn at the house. At butchering time, Darnell would make certain we had beef, pork, or poultry at our house as well. We always offered to pay, but Darnell refused. I asked him one time and he replied, "that's what friends are for – besides you saved my life or at least my asshole that day at the swimming pool and never, never, laughed at me or thought me stupid when I struggled in school." I guess that just about sums it up as far as he was concerned. I loved him for it! Dr. Arnold continued to educate me in the world of economics and investments and I, in turn, passed on what I learned, to Darnell.

My senior year of high school I began noticing Dr. Arnold slowly slipping in his health. He seemed frail, after all he was quite old, but his mind was active and his sense of humor had yet to escape him; his body was wearing out, not his intellect. Both he and Miss Harrison, along with Darnell and his family, attended my high school graduation and applauded enthusiastically when I was awarded my diploma that Saturday afternoon.

Miss Harrison hosted a small reception at the house afterwards, just coffee, punch, and cake for Darnell's family, Dr. Arnold, and some of my classmates. We didn't expect a very big crowd since we just didn't socialize much and some of those I'd "socialized" in the past probably didn't want people to know the extent of our "socialization," if you know what I mean. Miss Harrison and I were both pleasantly surprised when the monthly discussion group appeared at the house. Dr. Arnold and Darnell planned it as a surprise for me. Darnell's mother-in-law and father-in-law provided barbequed pork sandwiches, potato salad, and baked beans, along with all sorts of other goodies to go along with the cake, to feed the larger gathering of friends. I had a blast!

About a week later, while Dr. Arnold and I sat, shaded from the late afternoon sun under one of his fruit trees discussing my next year at the U., I noticed he'd become quiet. I looked over, noticed his head down, resting on his chest, hands relaxed in his lap, and his gracious heart beating no more! He was gone from this world and there was no hope of him returning from his great, solitary journey. I cried at my loss, kissed him goodbye, walked to the house to tell Miss Harrison to call the police, and returned to him to watch over his now life-less remains. I thought, standing there waiting for the police and undertaker, he looked as though he was deep in thought, contemplating another investment opportunity or a puzzling question to pose to me on our next meeting, a meeting I knew would never occur in this life.

I watched carefully as the undertaker came with the gurney to carry him away. Before they covered him, I gently pushed their hands away and did it myself. It was the very least I could do for a man who'd done so much for me. I think everyone in our small town knew he and I were close, so there was no objection; in fact, they were more than accommodating and willing to assist me in doing so.

The first-call vehicle left for the funeral home and I slowly meandered back to the house. When I walked in, Miss Harrison was just hanging up the telephone.

"Bill gave me the number of his attorney," she explained sadly, "in Madison with instructions to call him if anything should happen."

I learned from her Dr. Arnold suffered for a couple of years with congestive heart failure and wasn't well. He'd confided to Miss Harrison he just wanted to hang on long enough to see me graduate from high school. The attorney, Mr. Scott Harksen, drove out the next day and made the funeral arrangements. Dr. Arnold wanted a simple service at the funeral home and burial in a small country cemetery on the outskirts of town. For those who could or would attend, he also wanted a celebration of his life at one of the local pubs or a rented hall.

The funeral was short and simple with a minister from Madison performing the service. The funeral home was packed with friends, colleagues, and a mixture older to younger men, who, it all seemed, owed something to their association with Dr. Arnold and were there to pay their respects and offer their thanks for him in their lives. The monthly discussion group acted as pallbearers and Miss Harrison, Darnell and his family, and I sat in the front row of mourners as Dr. Arnold's family.

Mr. Harksen rented the Legion Hall and opened the bar (beer only) and provided a catered lunch for all attendees. It was a gathering of old friends sending their mentor and colleague off to who knows where or what great adventure. All but about three dozen, left after an hour and a half, but this group lingered and bade me stay with them, promising Miss Harrison they'd see me home safely. Darnell and his family volunteered to take her home.

Once it was just this smaller gathering, the brandy appeared along with the beer. I enjoy a cold beer and, even though the law frowned on it, the lads made certain I was indulged. It was then the story telling began, the REAL story telling, the actual celebration of Dr. William Arnold's life! This group of men all served Dr. Arnold well and he them, helping them through college, mentoring them and, yes, availing himself of whatever pleasures they had and were willing to offer (and offer they did, no different than I had). A checkered life, lack of funds, poor or no home life, but strong native intelligence and ambition all seemed to be a qualification to be accepted into the "fold" so to speak.

Dr. Arnold was a native of some little town in Iowa; born before the turn of the century, and, since in those days in polite society, boys did not fuck boys, at least in public, left home to go his own way. He ended up in Madison, sporting a Ph.D. in Economics from some university out east and a definite taste for young lad's cocks and asses.

First one story, then another, and another made the rounds as individuals relayed their own experiences with Dr. Arnold as they drank more and tongues became loosened. Gary, one of the storytellers, said he'd first met Dr. Arnold at some bar on State Street. Being without funds and book fees were due soon, he'd reverted to his time-proven job of earning money, offering his ass for a good, fast, pony ride. Bill made an offer and out back they went to bet on the ponies. Bill was up his ass quicker than a lizard on a beetle, saddled in deep, spurring for a fast ride, Gary bent over, pants down around his ankles, when a cop slipped into the alley.

Gary paused a moment, laughing, before continuing. All action ceased, he relayed, and Bill was still seated balls deep in the cleft, when the cop hollered, "What the hell is going on back here?" Bill, according to Gary, was quick as ever, shouting back, "The lad's sick and I'm holding him up so he can heave!" Of course he didn't say it was his stiff cock up Gary's ass that was doing the holding.

The cop, evidently not quite believing what was said and what he observed, decided to check it out. As he came closer, in the darkness of the alley, trying to see, Gary panicked, but with Bill's instructions, stuck his finger down his own throat and began retching; not just small sounds, but disgusting, stomach turning sounds, followed by the splattering of vomit on the pavement. The cop did an about face and skedaddled out of the alley!

"You'd have thought Bill would've called it quits," Gary continued, "but not him; he started pumping again saying, "Never leave a job half finished."

Carl, another of our group chimed in, "How about the time I was in his office tuning up his pink piccolo when the Dean decided to stop by for a visit?"

Carl barely had time to duck under the double pedestal desk in Bill's office and Bill quickly sat down, his open fly and exposed erect cock now concealed by the desk, but offering an invitation for Carl to continue his appointed task. He could feel the head of Bill's dick began to swell with his ministrations until Carl just knew Bill was ready to blow. It was about the moment the Dean announced Bill's promotion from Assistant Professor to full Professor, Bill fired a long, creamy load into Carl's oral cavity and, with a high-pitched voice spouted, "OH MY GOD!" surprising the Dean, as Bill added, "That was or is wonderful," as Carl continued to suckle him. Carl wondered how Bill was going to handle his dick out of his pants with him attached to it, but as the Dean prepared to leave, Bill said wearily, "Dean, don't think I'm being rude, but I'm so overcome it'd be difficult for me to rise and see you out."

When the laughter subsided, Cleveland (called "Grover" by his fellows) took up the liturgy. Grover was a trim, slim, black-haired, green-eyed, handsome gentleman of African-American descent, light brown in complexion, almost tan and with long, delicate fingers one might expect to find on a pianist. He definitely was the youngest of the group.

"I was only fourteen when I first encountered Bill," he recalled. Kicked out the house for "obvious reasons" he chattered with a wink and a nod to his fellows, and engendering more than one laugh from the crowd. Grover was sleeping rough where and when he could in downtown Madison and around campus trying to survive on what he could beg, borrow, or earn by turning tricks.

"There wasn't a lot of money floating around campus, but one night, down at the end of State Street near the corner just below Bascom Hall, an itinerant preacher was haranguing a small crowd with visions of hell, damnation, and heaven. Bill spotted me on the edges, liked what he saw and I liked the cash he offered, so we stepped out of the light into the shadows and concluded our business."

Dr. Arnold paid tribute to Grover's rear pew and when he finished, eyed Grover's stiff, fat and long staff, licked his lips, and decided he needed that in his own collection plate. Murmurs from the lads gave me every indication that this was something to behold, Grover's dick that is. Grover quizzed him concerning the efficacy of doing the nasty up Dr. Arnold's vestibule, but he insisted, as long as Grover only shoved in about two-thirds of the way.

Grover fucked away and Bill manipulated his rectal muscles and buttocks skillfully, exciting and arousing Grover to the heights of sexual ecstasy bringing him to a ball-draining, shoved clear to the hilt thrust forward until his crotch was wedded to Bill's butt-cheeks, orgasm!

While he pulsed and jerked his load into its tight holding area, Bill screeched, "JESUS CHRIST – YOU'RE BIG AND COMING FAST!"

The preacher, hearing Bill's shouted acclamation, responded, "Yes He is, Brother; can you feel his coming deep in the very depths of your soul?"

To which Bill responded, "AMEN BROTHER, AMEN – I feel it really, really, deep, believe me!"

"I think the preacher believed he made a convert that evening," Grover concluded. "I don't know about that, but I know I had a place to live, eat, and go to school after that night."

As the evening of reminiscence wound down, Mr. Harksen drove me home and before I exited the car, he said, "Julian, we all owe something to Dr. Arnold and call ourselves `Bill's Lucky Lads.' We're scattered all over the state and Midwest and continue to help each other and other young lads, such as you. Before you leave for Madison in August, contact me and I'll make arrangements for a place for you to live, free. All you need to concern yourself with will be first semester tuition and if you don't have that, don't worry. Bill wanted you to have a college education and the `Lucky Lads' will see to it."

Even in the midst of sadness, there is joy, and life is good.


To be continued:


Thank you for reading Julian Corsair– Chapter Seventeen –

"What a lively lad pleasured me

of all that with me lay?

I answer that I gave my soul

and loved in misery,

But had great pleasure with a lad

that I loved bodily.


Flinging from his arms I laughed

To think his passion such

He fancied that I gave a soul

Did but our bodies touch,

And laughed upon his breast to think

Beast gave beast as much."



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Nick Hall


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