An Uncommonly Good Man 18

The Journal of Julian Corsair,

An Uncommonly Good Man

Julian Corsair – Chapter Eighteen – "A professor can never better distinguish himself in his work then by encouraging a clever pupil, for the true discoverers are among them, as comet amongst the stars." – (Linnaeus)

Pauley closed the journal with every intention of bringing our listening pleasure of Julian Corsair's interludes of his life to a close, when a clap of thunder resounded and reverberated throughout the woods, rattling the windows of our snug abode. Rain, not the "pitter-patter" of the gentler variety one would hope for in an August storm, but fountaining torrents gushing from the roof as the thunder clouds unloaded its oceanic contents.

Needless to say, the racket and ensuing downpour brought all three of us to instant alertness and wakefulness. We scurried about the house, securing windows, peering into the dark abyss beyond our windows seeking any evidence of catastrophic damage inflicted by nature's wrath until, once satisfied all was well without, we settled back in our former poses of recline, relieved but wide awake!

"Can you read some more, Uncle Paul?" Ben pleaded and cozied up to Pauley and me, eager to hear more of Dr. J.'s story. Pauley, ever one to indulge his nephews and nieces, sighed contentedly before he began again the story.

Miss Harrison was just as excited as me, helping pack my clothes in the travel bag, and boxes I'd gathered to take with me to Madison.

"You'll have to leave some things here," she cautioned, "so you'll have something to wear when you come home for the holidays."

Clearly, she was more than hinting this was home and she'd miss me dearly if I didn't return for those special occasions.

"No problem," I replied, "although I should take some winter wear with me, since I might not be home before cold weather hits," then grinned, "although I doubt it."

I was soon packed, all my stuff setting on the porch, while we waited patiently for Grover to pick me up and take me away to my new adventure. My call to Mr. Harksen, as he'd advised me to make at Dr. Arnold's funeral service, confirmed the arrangements made by him and some of the other "Lucky Lads" for me. I'd be living with Dr. Cleveland (Grover) Lawry, at least for the first semester depending on how everything worked out. I didn't anticipate any problems; Grover and I'd hit it off right away earlier in the summer.

My tuition and fees were paid (from my savings), but room and board would be furnished by Grover. Rather than a college professor as I'd first assumed, he was a medical doctor with the University of Wisconsin Hospital. His arrival at our house was met with mixed emotions of joy and sadness; it was exciting, yet filled me with some trepidation. Miss Harrison and I were both anxious for my new life to begin, but both of us were reluctant to part with the security and warmth we felt for each other; me- for the grandmother I never had until she assumed the role for me and; her – the grandson she never had!

She kissed me, gave me a hug, and allowed me to part with her company with this words, "Julian, there are only two things I can give you from what little I have; the first is wings so you can fly and roots so you have a home to return to."

What more can a person ask for in life? She provided a home and inspiration for me, Dr. Arnold schooled and mentored me, developing my insatiable curiosity, and both sent me on my way to a greater world. I'd find, as I traversed life's highways, Robert Louis Stevenson's words would often snake through my mind, "Wealth I ask not, hope nor love, not a friend to know me; All I ask the heavens above and the road below me." Climbing in the car, waving goodbye to Miss Harrison, I started a life anew- again!

Although Dr. Lawry was on the staff at the University Hospital, he also had a small private practice. As he explained, driving to Madison, "Many Negro or African-American, as some of us wish to refer to ourselves, feel more comfortable attended to by a doctor of their own race or color. Perhaps," he continued hopefully, "this will all change some day. Black folks all over the country pray for the day when restrooms, buses, and even restaurants aren't segregated."

When I questioned his remarks, since I'd never been in a segregated restroom or anyplace else for that matter, he explained there were parts of the United States where citizens of color were treated as second-class; segregated from white society by laws and local rules which forbid them from mingling with, being near, and, most certainly, marrying white people. I really hadn't noticed any difference in people's color (well, some were darker than me and some were lighter, but others had bigger cocks than me and some smaller, but so what, they all worked the same) or differences since my own background was rather checkered as well.

I did know there were many people who were prejudiced and took their prejudices to the extreme such as the terrible lynching which occurred in the Duluth-Superior area, but that was far from me in times past. After all, I reasoned, hadn't black boys fought and died in the recent war and wasn't the blood they shed just as red as a white boy's or Hispanic boy, or Asian boy? It just didn't make sense to me how people could feel that way. In later life, John Edwards, responding to a comment on my liberalism, said, "Calling Julian Corsair a liberal is too conservative a term."

Grover's house was unpretentious, in a nice but not wealthy neighborhood, and seemed inviting to me. He helped m carry my things to my room and, noticing how I eyed the second bed there, announced, "You'll have a roommate, an African-American lad. He's your age and shows great potential as a great scholar. I think you and he'll get along just fine."

I unpacked and Grover led me on a tour of his home, explaining a few rules; no booze, no drugs, and no wild parties, although an overnight guest occasionally was permitted if there was no objection from the roomy. And, yes, we could provide services to him (Grover) if we wished. Of course, I desired to, but thought it best to wait. I'd heard the stories about his personal equipment and wanted to see if it fit where I wanted it to, but, when I inquired, he dodged the issue by saying, "Not tonight, you need to adjust to your new life." The only adjusting I could think of was my sphincter muscle, but I could wait. It'd been a long dry spell!

Dr. Lawry had an older black lady who served as his housekeeper. She arrived every morning after breakfast and spent the day doing the household chores and fixing our lunch, if we'd be home, and supper. She was such a nice lady, I immediately took a liking to her and, I think, her to me.

Dr. Lawry and I had about three days alone before the new roommate arrived so on the second night I decided it was time to "beard the lion in his den," so to speak and after both of us retired, I waited a few minutes and clambered, naked as a jay-bird, down the hall to his bedroom. I rapped softly on the door and when he invited me in, I slipped under the covers, draped my naked torso over his and began letting our manly poles begin to dance with each other. I soon found his was almost twice the size of mine and by far had a far better two-step and waltz than mine, but it was so soft, yet so hard to touch, making mine drip and drool at the contact.

When he gently rolled me over on my belly, I was as stiff as a three day corpse! Spreading my ass-cheeks, Grover slowly and lasciviously began licking, slurping, and sucking on my puckered ring, sending lightning bolts of pleasure up my ass to my cock and on to my brain. Once I thought I'd died and gone to Heaven, he rolled me back onto my back, hitched my legs up to his shoulders, and wobbled that slugger of a baseball bat back and forth for me to inspect. Never in my life up that point, or since, have I seen such a prodigious prick, head pink, swollen, and throbbing for action or had one in my mouth or up my ass. That night, I experienced all of the above!

Buried balls deep in my gut, every short thrust in and out he made, massaged and tickled my prostate to a mind-boggling state of pure ecstasy! I swear there were times he poked the lower end of my stomach as deep as he was embedded. I commented, with some effort since I strained somewhat from what was inserted, how he seemed to meet one barrier and with a little extra push, pass through it until he was fully seated.

"Medically," he explained, "it's no different than performing a sigmoldoscopic examination with an endoscope in checking out the sigmoid colon, just above the rectum. Plenty of lubrication and gently pressure and in it goes. The human anus can stretch quite a bit and the rectum has more than enough capacity to hold what you currently have in there." That may well be, but it felt like a fucking telephone pole up there the first time he impaled me with it! At any rate, he was a tremendous fuck and came in buckets until his white, thick cream leaked and dribbled out my asshole while he was still plugged in.

My roommate moved in a day later! Mr. Harksen brought him, as he had me, and when the new lad disembarked from the front seat, I noticed he was taller than me, perhaps six foot tall or more, creamed-coffee in color, with a shy smile, long, lanky limbs, with a very slim waist, and long delicate fingers. He was awed by the house he was to live in, but having a white roommate seemed to give him some concern, if I read the cautious once-over he gave me, from head to toe, when we were introduced.

"Kenny Jurgins," he said softly, offering me his hand, but no more.

"Julian Corsair," I responded and offered him no more either.

"Birds of a feather flock together" and if I didn't miss my guess, he was a child of the streets the same I was and viewed strangers suspiciously, although my years in Prairie du Sac did lessen my caution somewhat. He was uncertain, I'm sure, how a white boy would treat a black boy and I didn't blame him one bit.

After supper, I offered to help him unpack and put away what few things he had; he seemed indifferent to my offer, but didn't object when I did anyway. When I offered to trade beds if he didn't like his, he declined the offer. Finally, trying to break the ice and get to know him, I asked him where he was from and what high school he went to. When he told me Milwaukee and the name of the high school, I said gleefully, "That's where my friend Le Roy went to!"

A puzzled expression crossed Kenny's face, then returned, his eyes became affixed to mine through a very intense, probing star, at my pronouncement, and asked quietly, "Le Roy, who?"

I honestly never knew what his last name was, but I quickly responded, "I don't know; he was my boyfriend's best friend."

"What was your boyfriend's name?"

"Eddie Sentkowski!"

Kenny gazed at me strangely, almost hurtfully, and asked me the name again, so I repeated it. He sighed a very deep sigh, before speaking, almost inaudibly, "He was my older brother Le Roy's best friend."

This was Le Roy's younger brother; sweet, shy, and hung Le Roy! I never knew his last name until now.

"How is he?" I squealed excitedly.

Two big tears formed on Kenny's cheeks. "He's dead; never came back from the war in Europe."

Stepping forward, I stretched out my arms to my new roommate and friend, hugging him close to me as we both wept; one for a brother and me for a friend, now lost to the ages. When we finally bedded down that night, it wasn't in separate beds but together in mine. Even though Kenny was taller than me and his legs were longer, his stomach fit well in the small of my back when he planted himself deeply inside me. He wasn't nearly the same size as Dr. Lawry, but Kenny was ever bit the length and girth of his brother Le Roy, who'd found rest in my rear portal more than once, if not a little more so and a most consummate and gentle lover.

We slept together the next four years as we completed our bachelor's degrees. Our time together was shared with Dr. Lawry until the housekeeper's son, about Grover's age, began showing up at the house. The two of them soon became a couple and he moved in to become Dr. Lawry's soul-mate and life-companion.

The first year as a college freshman at Madison could be over-whelming to many a young person, but to me it was well- heavenly. It probably wasn't a word most people would use, but to me it was an exciting place to be! There was so much to see, to do, and to learn! Every door opened to an adventure in learning it seemed.

My classes, although basically the core or required classes all freshmen must enroll in, were fun for me, while other students found them boring or irrelevant. I started getting the reputation as a "curve breaker" since I did well on most of my tests. Why shouldn't I? I studied, had great mentors, and most of the material was covered one time or the other during the discussion groups held at Dr. Arnold's when I lived in Prairie du Sac.

Miss Harrison kept me supplied with little surprise gifts from home, mainly boxes of welcome cookies and cakes, sent in with friends or neighbors. Once in a while, Darnell would come to town and we'd spend an afternoon cavorting on State Street before he had to return to the farm.

Mr. Harksen and Dr. Lawry encouraged me to take summer session classes rather than return home to try to find a job. Jobs weren't all that plentiful, so it was a good option for me. Miss Harrison was disappointed but once I promised to come home some weekends, she was better.

For some silly damned reason, my life seems to be affected by and plagued by wars of some sort or another. In June of 1950, the United Nations decided to intervene in Korea after North Korea invaded South Korea. Active reserves were called into service and the military was being bolstered by draftees. As luck would have it, half way through my sophomore year at the University my selective service number came up and I received my draft notice. I was somewhat distraught, but took it in stride rather than apply for a college deferment and reported for my physical.

Shit-fire, man – I was rejected! The doctors claimed I had a "heart flutter" or some silly damned thing. I wasn't complaining about being rejected, mind you, but I was concerned for my health. I told Dr. Lawry the results and he immediately scheduled a full physical for me in his office. His examination and tests confirmed what the army docs discovered. I had, according to Grover, a slight heart murmur, but "it shouldn't kill you if you take care of yourself," he informed me. I immediately asked if meant eliminating strenuous exercise such as fucking and he grinned, "No, just rest a little in between bouts."

Kenny never got called up. I think the pool of available men was much larger in Milwaukee and besides, he was a pre-med student. I think Grover may've had something to do with it.

During those four years, Kenny and I were introduced to a new world; a world which included Sunday afternoon recitals and concerts, opera and ballet on some weekends or evenings, art exhibits, and stimulation of our taste buds through introduction to new foods, both domestic and foreign. All of these epicurean delights were served at some professor's home or some up-scale downtown supper club, presented in the provenance of the area or country with which the particular dish was associated.

We wanted not for expert assistance on any research project or problem, although our mentors did more "asking" then "answering," leading us to research and discover the correct solutions ourselves. I think today many pedagogues refer to this as the "Socratic Method." It was a great way to learn outside the regular classroom and wasn't available to many students, so we were fortunate.

Although Kenny and I were lovers and friends during our college years, we both knew we would never be "boyfriends," bound together for life. Each of us had different roads we'd follow and, although our paths would continue to cross in the future, each found a soul-mate elsewhere.

To be continued:

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Thank you for reading Julian Corsair– Chapter Eighteen – "A professor can never better distinguish himself in his work then by encouraging a clever pupil, for the true discoverers are among them, as comet amongst the stars." – (Linnaeus)

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Nick Hall

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