An Uncommonly Good Man
Copyright© 2014 – Nicholas Hall
Julian Corsair – Chapter Two-
"You were born with your legs apart. They'll send you to the grave in a Y-shaped coffin." – (Joe Orton [John Kinglsey])
The 1930's wasn't the best of times for a child to be born of a mother barely seventeen years of age, who, facing an uncertain future, a lack of steady income other than the waitressing jobs she was able to secure (at extremely low wages), and a family that rejected her completely, disowned her and forbid her appearance in their lives or homes again, resorted to whatever necessary to provide for herself and her offspring. It was in this life I made my appearance in August of 1931, squalling my lungs out after being delivered by a midwife of questionable repute in the back room of a dilapidated two-story apartment house on the north east side of Milwaukee, Wisconsin.
I was a product of her second occupation, not that of a waitress, and of questionable sperm donation by one of several male clients over the space of a couple of weeks. I none-the-less popped forth from that well used chute quickly and easily, causing little pain and no damage, much to Momma's relief since she needed that particular orifice to pay the midwife and earn the money needed to keep me. You see, she decided to keep me rather than abandoning me to the Sisters of Charity Orphanage. Why she did, I know not why, but from her I learned and became quite adept at survival.
Her first born, olive in complexion, slight of build, and not very cute, according to her, but possessing a nice set of balls, raising my legs every time someone tickled them or blew their hot breath across them. Perhaps this, more than anything else, foretold my future and my eventual source of income. Granny Nelson, who owned the apartment house, cared for me while mother worked (either at a café or in her bedroom), as well as keeping the sheets clean in the three bedrooms used by her "young ladies," made certain I was fed, clothed, and clean. This freed Momma to writhe and moan her way to fake orgasms several times per night if the opportunity arose.
I once asked Momma why she named me "Julian Corsair" since that wasn't her family name. I wondered if that may've been my father's name. She looked at me rather indifferently, stating, "I didn't; Granny Nelson did."
When I asked why, Momma merely shrugged her shoulders. "I think she thought it sounded kind of neat so that's what she put on the birth certificate."
At the end of my first year of school, Momma announced we were moving to "one of the better neighborhoods" where an "Uncle Jack" would let us live in his small frame house and provide for our every need. Unfortunately, over the years, there were a number of "Uncle Jack's" we lived with. At any rate, I had my own bedroom and Uncle Jack and Momma shared one. According to her, she and Uncle Jack didn't mind sharing. Well, Uncle Jack was quite a bit older than Momma and one night while "sharing" the bed, his cock buried balls deep in that tunnel of delight he often dipped his wick in, he fired his load, twitched his dick a couple of times and died- right on top of Momma!
I heard her scream, dashed from my bed and scurried to her room just as she was wiggling out from under his corpse, his now deflated cock making a "plop" sound as it freed itself as she pulled loose, making quite a sight for a six year old, I must say. That put us back into the waitress business, living back with Granny Nelson, and a string of gentlemen who liked to visit with Momma and the other girls. Granny once remarked that Momma's crotch lips just twitched at the thought of being serviced by some guys prong and she was a natural at entertaining. Besides, she liked being paid for the use of it.
Life became a series of various "Uncle Jack's" taking us in and "providing for our every need" when Momma found the right one while waiting tables. She really never quit the waitressing, preferring to use those wages and tips for her own spending money. Besides, it did give us a bit of security whenever "Uncle Jack" tired of her or he moved on. In the meantime, each guy seemed quite content with the menu at home, feasting heartily, regularly, and with delighted gusto, if his yelps of pleasure were any indication.
There were many times I would crawl out from under my covers, sneak to the bedroom door where Momma was plying her skills and watch some guy thrusting his dick in and out in the natural inclination of fucking. When I watched, my little dickie would grow so stiff and I couldn't help but rub myself to a very tingling, mind-blowing dry climax, often wishing it were me that was accommodating the large dicks I saw. Well, they were compared to my little two and half inch stiff spike!
I turned nine in 1940 and it was that year, during Christmas break from school on New Year's eve, Momma and the current "Uncle Jack" (his real name was Tony) celebrated at some bar downtown and came home quite late. They didn't come home alone; in fact they were joined by Tony's brother, a twenty-five year old sailor on leave. I was awakened from my rest by Momma's moaning and another voice urging, "Fuck her harder, Tony" so I rose from my bed to investigate. Sprawled on her bed, her legs wrapped around Tony's backside, she was giving as well as getting.
Tony's cock was buried deep and his big, hairy balls were flopping and swaying as he pushed in and out, grunting with satisfaction with each mighty thrust, frantic, it seemed, to poke it clear through her. Sitting on a chair, watching all of this was the younger guy, naked as the day he was born, stroking his average sized circumcised dick, slowly and deliberately, apparently waiting his turn.
He spotted me, clad only in my boxer shorts, standing in the doorway, my hard little boner poking through the fly, and urged me over to him.
"Jesus, ain't you just the cutest little shit I've ever seen in a long time. Like what you see, little man?"
Sure I did; not what was going on in the bed, I'd seen that before, but I certainly did like the looks of that piece of cut meat poking up between his legs. I nodded, walked over, and before he could even say "tickle my balls and make me giggle" I leaned over and sucked the leaking head of it up into my small but eager mouth.
"Good God Almighty," he moaned and pulled my head off, lifted me, dropped my shorts, and set me on top of that sweet instrument of pleasure of his. Worming it around slowly, he maneuvered me until the slick tip touched my pulsing little pucker and began inserting it up into me. It was painful as my ass-lips stretched to accommodate something going into what usually was used to send something out of, but I loved it!
He rose, holding me skewered on his dick, turned, and bent me over the chair. Once in a more appropriate position, he commenced to fuck me royally! With one final deep plunge, I felt his cock-head expand inside me and he unloaded his juice up my chute just about the time Tony gave a squeal of ecstasy and fired his load into Momma. The two men extracted their poles from our orifices, both seeming quite satisfied.
That experience, and the fact that Tony gave me two bucks for letting his younger brother fuck me, convinced me of two things; one, I was as queer as a deer, and two, if I liked it that much, why not make it pay? I didn't really think I was that cute, but Tony's brother did when he took my virginity. If I was worth two bucks to Tony and his brother, I'd bet there'd be others willing to pay to shag a young guy who's balls hadn't dropped yet and who's willy was still small and uncut. Unfortunately, the opportunity didn't become available at home; no, it showed up on the way to school.
I rode the city bus to the elementary school I attended and each morning on the ride to school and in the afternoon on the way home, I noticed there was always a group of older boys riding in the back of the bus. Clearly, they were in high school and looked, if my eyes didn't deceive me, far past my stage of development in the crotch area and sported man-sized weaponry in the confines of their jeans. They were usually quiet, not wanting to raise the ire of the driver, but if you sat close enough you could hear them talking, most of it "dirty" talk, like who they fucked, who put out the most, and who had the biggest dick and wanked it the most. Every now and then they'd brag about who could shoot the biggest load or the farthest – completely and totally intriguing to me, bringing my little dickie to attention almost immediately whenever I heard them chatter about "sex" things.
One fine March morning, I decided to take a chance. I climbed on the bus and instead of taking my usual seat up toward the front of the bus, walked boldly to the back and wiggled my pert little butt on a seat between two boys sitting there.
"What the fuck you doing, you little shit?" muttered one of the boys and grabbed my arm to give me the heave-ho back into the aisle as older boys sometimes do to those of us younger.
"Back off, asshole," threatened the other boy, "he just wants to be part of the gang, don't you kid? Besides, he's fucking cute!"
I grinned and nodded in the affirmative (not of being cute but wanting to sit there) and reached over, ostensibly to push myself back further in my seat, "inadvertently" placing my hand on the crotch of the boy who thought I was cute, for leverage.
He never said a word! Instead he looked down at me, winked, and cupped his hand over mine, pulling it harder against his crotch and cock. I wiggled my fingers around a bit and the way it felt to me, this was a nice toy to mess with. As I squeezed and fondled him, he slid a hand over to my pants, slipped his hand behind my belt, and slid his warm fingers down until they encountered my hard little spike.
"Oh, my God, kid, you are so fucking horny," he said softly.
I nodded and continued my ministrations. He slid down in the seat and the other boys closed ranks around us, blocking the driver's view through the mirror and of any passengers on the bus from seeing what was going down in the back of the bus. Little did others know it was me that was going down, on my own accord!
"I'll suck you for fifty cents," I propositioned.
"How `bout I fuck you instead?" he countered.
I thought a moment and responded, "That'll cost you a dollar."
I held out my hand.
"The dollar first then you can fuck."
He fished around in his pocket and handed over a dollar, before unzipping his jeans and extracting a nice seven inch uncircumcised dick. It was bigger and slightly longer than Tony's brother's cock. Its beautiful head slowly began to emerge as the hood peeled back with each pump of his heart and throb of his dick. I wiggled my pants and shorts down around my ankles and hoisted myself into position on his lap. I'd lubed myself with some of Momma's Vaseline® before leaving the apartment so as to ease the passage, if I should be so fortunate to have the opportunity. Hey, it never hurts to be prepared! I slowly begin lowering myself on this thick, fat cock. It didn't hurt much at first as I lowered myself, heading toward the root and thin teen cock hairs surrounding it. But, the more I dropped, the thicker the cock seemed to be until reaching bottom, I thought my sphincter was stretched open as far it could be, kind of like putting five pound of sugar in a one pound bag!
God, then it hurt, but I bit my lips and grabbed the bus seat back in front of me until I adjusted to its girth. My assailant was kind and waited until I adjusted and began giving me one of the most marvelous fucks I think I ever had (remember, it was only my second time, so what did really know)! It didn't take him pumping in and out more than two bus stops worth before I felt him swell, shudder, and begin squirting his man-juice up my butt hole. When he came, he came in buckets. I felt as though my guts were being flooded by a fire hose from the Milwaukee Fire Department. He leaned forward, thrusting as deep as he could, stuck his tongue in my ear, and moaned, "Kid, you're so fucking cute, I'd love to fuck this every chance I get."
As he was pumping the last of his load, his buddy next to us leaned over, slurped up my little stiffy and gave me a blow job. I climaxed and held out my hand.
"Giving me a blowjob will cost you fifty cents," I demanded and he paid.
I worried, when my fucker pulled his cock out, his cum, leaking out of my butt, would soak through my pants and the remnants would show everyone at school my recent activities. Again, he was kind and stuffed a handkerchief up my crack and whispered "Pull it out when you get to school and toss it in the toilet. No one will ever know!"
He stuffed the handkerchief up my butthole with a gentle and long finger, lingering there just a moment before withdrawing. Peering over my shoulder at his recent ministration, I decided I looked more like a cottontail bunny rather than a well and truly fucked nine-year old boy. I giggled quietly as he pulled his head back, surveyed his work, and nodded his approval before asking,
"What's your name, kid?"
"Julian," I happily replied, "what's yours?"
I would've skipped off of the bus and up to the school entrance when I disembarked had my rear portal been not so tender and stuffed with Eddie's handkerchief. When I pulled it out, once in the boys' restroom, I noticed it was well soaked with cum, some shit stains, and just a little spot of blood signaling evidence of Eddie's invasion.
Eddie always seemed to have plenty of money and I became his regular fuck-buddy on the bus for the remainder of the school year. Oh, I didn't charge him anymore; he just gave me five bucks a week for "expenses and foolin' around money," as he put it. I told him, as the school year neared the end that I'd really miss him over the summer. He just smiled at me and winked that delightful wink of his sending me the message that he wasn't done fucking me yet. He asked what I did all summer and I casually replied, "Not much. Momma works and I'm home alone."
"Not anymore," he announced emphatically!
Eddie was correct! Summer came and he was a regular visitor to our apartment and to my bedroom. I'd stretch out naked as a jay-bird on my bed and he'd plug me well and good several times a day. I don't really suppose that's the way I should describe our coupling since it was more than that. Eddie carried me on a dance of love and pleasure such as I never imagined. His velvety smooth stiff penis would nudge around, find it's home, and begin a slow and sensuous wiggling and slow journey up past my prostate, hit the first barrier, pass it, and then begin its journey back out until he became more and more excited by my warmth and finally, with one last thrust, his crotch hairs buried in the crevice of my sweet, young mounds, he'd ejaculate his warm, ropey, thick cum deep inside me. The entire time, whether I was on my back, facing him with my legs wrapped around his waist or on my stomach, with him stretched over me, arms locked under my shoulders, face close to my face, as he fucked, he'd speak such wonderful words of love to me! I knew I was his only love and always would be. His pleasure pole found a home it enjoyed and the home welcomed it with every opportunity!
I once asked him where he got all of the cash he seemed to have and he finally confessed he was a street hustler, letting men fuck him, suck him or he them, or in some cases, the men wanted him to fuck them. For this he was paid fairly well and generally would do three to four guys a night when he was working. Eddie was well known for his skills and the service he gave, so when he wanted to work, there was always someone willing to pay for his ass.
"I really prefer younger guys like you," he said," but I don't have the opportunity."
I was fine with that, Eddie loved me and I loved him and would do anything for him.
One day he brought a fellow hustler to the apartment with him; a young black teen, really good looking, slim, no hips, and a smile to die for.
"Le Roy has no place to hang out," Eddie explained. "Is it okay if he joins us sometimes?"
I was a little embarrassed when I stripped off my togs and spread myself in position on my bed, but relaxed when Eddie did too, climbed on the bed, gently turned me over on my stomach, spread my legs, positioned himself, and guided his love pole to my hole and began to exercise my insides with it. My little prong was as stiff as ever and as Eddie pushed in and out, it rubbed on the sheet under me, giving me one hell of a great sensation! I looked over and saw Le Roy, naked as Eddie and me, his pink plum shaped cockhead peeking out from the sheath of a long, fat, throbbing piece of man-meat protruding from the crotch of a teen boy.
Eddie saw him too and slowly rolled us over on our sides. Le Roy grinned, walked over to the bed while slowly jacking a hand up and down that maypole of delight, leaned over and sucked my cock up tight to his lips and let his tongue work its magic on it while Eddie pounded at the back door. It wasn't long until I was squealing with delight in the most magnificent dry cum. My ass clenched and Eddie erupted fountains, coating my insides.
When he pulled out, he leaned over, kissed me, and asked, "Can Le Roy have a little of this too?"
I nodded my okay although I wasn't certain I could accommodate him; he was way bigger than Eddie. Le Roy turned me over on my back, raised my legs to his shoulders, and positioned himself for a march down lover's lane. The fat head made contact with my still twitching and cum lubricated sphincter and he began leaning forward, slowly slipping in deeper and deeper into that well-lubricated orifice until he reached a point I was certain he could go no further, but with a grunt, he pushed past that barrier and soon was balls deep in me. I felt gorged, stuffed, more like a Thanksgiving turkey than a boy with a humungous dick up his ass!
Le Roy took his time as he gently fucked me, increasing his rhythm as I became accustomed to the intrusion and delicious massage my prostate was getting as he came closer and closer to orgasm. When I felt him begin to swell, he gave final push forward, shuddered, moaned, grabbed me tight and clenched his ass cheeks in release. If I thought Eddie shot a load, it was nothing compared to Le Roy. He just kept cumming as he twitched and pulsed inside me until I could feel his cum running out of my butt and down the crack of ass over my balls.
Le Roy didn't ride our bus to school in the fall, but every week Eddie would take me to the movie and we'd meet Le Roy afterwards. Le Roy always took the opportunity, with Eddie's approval, to give me a good, long, gently fuck! He enjoyed it, I enjoyed it, and Eddie enjoyed sharing me with his friend.
That all changed in December, 1941!
To be continued
Thank you for reading Julian Corsair – Chapter Two- "You were born with your legs apart. They'll send you to the grave in a Y-shaped coffin." – (Joe Orton [John Kinglsey])
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