An Uncommonly Good Man 4

The Journal of Julian Corsair,

An Uncommonly Good Man

Julian Corsair – Chapter Four – "Mans discovery that his genitalia could serve as a weapon to generate fear must rank as one of the most important discoveries of prehistoric times, along with the use of fire and the first crude stone axe." –(Susan Brownmiller)

Instead of returning immediately to the chair and Julian's journal, I meandered over to the living room window and looked out over our street and neighborhood. Julian used to stand in this window many afternoons or evenings, watching me saunter up the sidewalk and the drive to our house. If I happened to be out late of an evening, it was the same window where a light shined softly, guiding me home much as a beacon welcoming a ship home, safe from the sea and into safe harbor.

The late afternoon sun was fading slowly to twilight and I realized I hadn't had lunch. It was growing close to dinner time; my "sorting" out began before lunch, but I sidetracked myself into reading the journal and lost all track of time. I didn't regret it one bit, but my stomach was protesting just a bit.

Standing there pensively, yet in deep reflection, Julian's loss of his lover after Pearl Harbor, brought a new perspective to the attack; more personal, more heartfelt through the reading of his journal. Previously, the battle of Pearl Harbor was, in my mind, an incident of great magnitude in our history and a topic of one of my lectures to my undergraduate history students. I wasn't discounting the importance of the terrible tragedy, but felt I failed to really realize the depth of the loss to the many families and our country as a result since I had, until now, no personal relationship with it; now I did!

The Japanese Naval Forces launched well over three hundred aircraft from aircraft carriers approximately two hundred miles north of Oahu and struck at 7:55am on Sunday, December 7, 1941. When the attack, by the dive and torpedo bombers, ended shortly before 10:00am, twenty-one ships of the United States Pacific Fleet were sunk or damaged; one hundred-eighty-nine aircraft destroyed and one hundred fifty-nine damaged and American dead numbered two thousand four hundred and three with one thousand, one hundred seventy-eight military and civilian personnel wounded. Japanese losses were light; some twenty-nine planes, representing less than ten percent of the attack force, failed to return to their carriers.

Historians and politicians will oft debate the "whys" and the "how's," but the fact is, it happened and we became a changed people as a result of it! During the war, military personnel and civilians, on both sides, suffered and died and their homelands experienced devastating destruction by the machines of war. Whole groups of people were erased from existence by men who envisioned themselves greater than the laws of man and were demigods. In the United States, we felt the loss of every brave soul who fell or suffered wounds and in later years, suffered the shame for imprisoning our fellow Americans who were of Japanese ancestry; falsely accusing and wrongfully assuming misdeeds because they looked different from the "white us" because of their ethnicity, falsely believing they were liable to do us harm. We robbed them of their property, their civil rights, and most dreadful of all, their dignity!

On the home front, war brought not only death and dismemberment to some of our neighbors, sons, daughter, and friends, but war-time regulations including rationing, curfews, and shortages. Those privations, thought to be so dire at the time, didn't equal those suffered elsewhere.

Sighing, I walked to the kitchen, fixed myself a sandwich, poured a glass of cold milk, and carried them to the living room where, setting them on the small table next to the chair I'd previously occupied, resumed reading the journal and having my meal as I did so.

My life changed from a happy, little boy with a loving boyfriend to a more melancholy, sad-faced little waif, sitting home alone evenings after school, doing school work or listening to the radio, if Momma was off somewhere. The war frightened me, made me fearful of strangers and uncertain of life in general. No longer having Eddie around to comfort me, protect me, reassure me all would be well, left an emptiness in me that just couldn't seem to be filled; I felt so alone and unwanted! Rationing really began impacting everyone's lives. There were shortages of meat, milk, flour, shoes, gas, and butter was almost non-existent. Those everyday items were now needed for the war effort. Everyone seemed to suffer; everyone except us. It seems as though we had plenty of food to eat. Somehow, Tony kept us supplied.

I lost interest in making any bucks on the bus; somehow it just didn't seem the same without Eddie and Le Roy. Oh, there were older boys who still ogled me, but I think they knew what I was going through and made no effort to "stem the rose." I noticed there were fewer and fewer young men riding the bus and around in our neighborhood. This was really depressing! Where were all of the young men going and would they ever return?

My one salvation, an escape from my loneliness, was school. In the fall of 1941, I'd entered the fifth grade. After Eddie left after Christmas, I pushed myself hard at school during the spring term. Not that I really had to; I enjoyed school and studies came easy for me. I was probably the brightest one in the class, but I didn't make an issue of it. I really didn't want to get thumped by some ignorant sod for being smart. I spent more time doing my school work and reading. My teacher, Mr. Hanson, took a special interest in me that spring. At first, I thought he was just interested in parting my cheeks like Eddie said some men liked to do to young boys. I decided if Mr. Hanson wanted me, he'd have to pay just like the boys on the bus once did. My little hairless dick was getting some action, not a lot mind you, if only by me and no one else; so, if Mr. Hanson may offer some relief.

No luck there! He really was more interested in my intellect and not my pecker or ass. Mr. Hanson arranged a number of tests for me and after a couple of meeting with Momma (come to find out, he was more interested in porking her than me), the school principal decided I'd skip sixth grade and go directly to seventh grade the next school year. That meant Junior High and older, bigger kids (and dicks).

The summer of 1942 was really long without Eddie around. I hadn't heard from him and didn't expect to. Eddie was not a great one for writing down anything; I don't think he read that well and struggled with school, although he never said. I made friends with an older boy across the street in a third floor apartment. Darnell Anderson was going into ninth grade in the fall and was fourteen years old. He was taller than me, rather slim and gangly, slightly tanned in color, more olive in shade like me, giving an impression of a Mediterranean background, and a goofy fucking smile, but not an unattractive lad. Shy, a loner until he met me, not very aggressive, and more passive than anything else, his voice was in the process of changing as evidenced by the breaking, squeaking, and low tones he emitted trying to speak sometimes. By the looks of his crotch, he was developing into an excellent specimen of the male species, although he was very self-conscious, often covering his crotch if I happened to look down at it. All in all, Darnell was a good companion, not a "boyfriend" as Eddie had been, but someone who was fun for me to be around.

We probably didn't understand everything happening in the world; what we did know was a constant undercurrent of fear and anxiousness pervaded our neighborhood and the people around us. War was predominating all discussions, including those between Darnell and me. Government censors limited the information the public received, but there was enough to keep us somewhat informed, not aiding the enemy obviously, and an attempt to bolster our morale. Darnell overheard some older boys talking about the army building some sort of a road to Alaska. Hell, we had no idea where Alaska was or why there wasn't a road there. After all, roads were all over the place here.

The Army Corps of Engineers built a fifteen hundred mile long gravel road though wilderness and mountains from Dawson Creek, British Columbia in Canada to Big Delta in Alaska. At my suggestion, Darnell and I rode the bus to the public library, pulled out a big atlas in the reference section and poured over it trying to figure out where and why the Army would build such a thing. I figured if they built it through mountains, the roads would be really, really steep and treacherous. (In later years I drove the road and found indeed they were. The grades were nine and ten percent, unpaved, and without service in most areas. Originally, the roads had grades of up to twenty-five percent and miserable, if what I've read over the years were correct.) In June, the Japanese attacked Dutch Harbor in the Aleutians and eventually Attu Island. I knew then why building the highway was so important. The highway was finished in ten months.

New names and places were in the news as the war progressed in 1942. When the news of the Philippines being captured in 1942, a great naval battle fought in the Coral Seas, and the fall of Saigon reached the home shores via newspaper and radio, it sent Darnell and me off to the library or, in my case when we were in school, would interrupt any particular lesson we were on to ask the teacher where on the map those places were. School was out when another big battle, for Midway, was fought, so – off to the library with Darnell in tow!

Darnell didn't mind me taking the lead on issues, in fact he preferred it, so the day I suggested we take a bus to one of the municipal swimming pools, he quickly agreed. I approached Momma with the idea and she thought, since I was smart enough to be going into seventh grade in the fall, I was old enough to take a bus to the pool. She really didn't have any concerns what I did with my time, as long as I was out of her hair. Having Darnell along, an older boy in her mind, would be protection from any dangers I might face. Personally, I wasn't all that worried about that; I thought I was old enough to take care of myself.

There were lots of kids at the pool that hot summer. Fathers and older brothers were off to war and mothers were working so the pool was the logical place to send the kids. It was fun, splashing and playing a couple of hours each afternoon two or three times a week. It was especially fun to hit the changing room and shower, ogling all of the dangly bits hanging between the older boys legs or the snugged up ones of the younger lads such as myself. There was always an assortment of bare-naked boys and men in there. Dick size ranged from small, hairless dicks like mine to big, hairy cocks and large balls of the older men. Once in a while there'd be some older guy in there whose balls swayed like a pendulum on a grandfather clock as they walked. Their dicks would just flop up and down and back and forth. I was also interested in noticing which boys had the ends of their dicks trimmed (you know, circumcised) or still intact like me. I just couldn't imagine why someone would do that to their kid.

Darnell and I'd swim about, dive from the low board, and wrestle each other in the water. We both wore boxer type trunks (really just plain cotton shorts since we didn't have swim trunks with the mesh lining inside like some boys with money did) and went "commando." When Darnell's shorts got wet, it was pretty evident his "bits" were not bits but more "biggies." Once in the changing room, pulling off our shorts the first time, he turned his back to me to disrobe, displaying a thin, almost hairless, not very fleshy butt in my direction and shielded his cock and balls from my view. I jabbed him in the butt with my finger, causing him to jerk his head up and turn around, exposing a long, uncircumcised cock of average thickness emerging from a sparse, dark-curly haired bush the same color as the hair on his head, flopping down over two nice sized, low-hanging walnut-sized balls. The skin on the end of his dick was longer than mine, bringing me to wonder how much of the head and piss slit was exposed when he was hard.

"Nice," I commented, reached down for my towel and began drying my own dick off.

Darnell's face turned red, his dick twitched, and he tossed a quick glance at my young stubby before covering with his towel and begin drying himself. I never said another word after that, but when we went to the pool in days after that, he didn't bother trying to hide that nice, fleshy protuberance from my view. To say I was interested in it is an understatement.

One afternoon, after we were done swimming, pulling our shorts off, and standing talking to each other, an older fellow, maybe forty-five or fifty years old walked over and stood near us. I looked up, noticed he was still dressed, paid no more attention and returned to Darnell to continue our small talk. I turned again when I noticed Darnell's black eyes get big, eyebrows way high, and his mouth open in amazement. When I looked, the guy's stiff, fat dick was sticking out of his pants and he gave me a wink! He stepped over next to us, reached down and encircled Darnell's soft penis in his left hand and reached down with his right and slipped it in my butt crack.

"What-a-yah want, Mr.?" Darnell squeaked out as his own cock began to lengthen in the man's hand.

"A little of this," he responded giving Darnell's cock a couple of strokes and, "a nice piece of this," as he tried to slip a finger in my little brown pucker.

I quickly spotted opportunity knocking at the door, well, more like a cock hunting for a roost, so I chirped up, "Cost you five bucks to fuck me and two bucks to blow him, buddy!"

The old guy looked at me as he continued stroking Darnell, who by now was sticking way out beyond the guys fingers (damn nice big cock, I thought, and definitely a player, although I'd bet he never had anyone other than himself touch him down there), and smirked at me. "I don't think so; I usually just take what I want and you two boys want it bad. Looks just right for the plucking, so I think I'll just fuck both of you for free!"

"No pay – no play," I retorted! Darnell's eyes now seemed as large as his cock. Clearly he was nervous; scared shitless would be a better description. He just knew he was going to be raped and ripped asunder – no two ways about it! His stalk began to wilt as he considered the prospect. Hot sun on a daffodil couldn't have been more effective.

The man moved closer, thrusting his dick in the general direction of my lips.

"Forget it, kid; I already told you how I take my pleasures and you're going to be first to be staked to the bench, so spread your cheeks."

I smiled my nicest smiles. "Better pay up or else!"

"Or else what, you little fuck toy?"

I smiled sweetly again, opened my mouth, and screamed, "RAPE! PERVERT! OH MY GOD—SOMEBODY HELP ME! HE'S TRYING TO FUCK ME!"

He dropped Darnell's cock like it was hot poker, extracted his hand from my ass, stuffed his cock back in his pants, and was out the door faster than a greyhound chasing a rabbit!

I calmly reached over to the bench, retrieved my towel, and finished drying my hair. Darnell, on the other hand, was shaking like a dog shitting razor blades.

"Oh my God," Julian, "do you know what he was going to do to us?"

"Yeah, try to fuck us for nothing, that's what!"

Darnell's eyes started to tear up; he stepped over and hugged me – tight! Our naked bodies pressed against each other, bare skin against bare skin, but, since he was taller than me, his limp length dangled over mine and his bush (slight as it was) tickled my skin just below my belly button. I started to bone up and so did he.

Embarrassed, he stepped back, releasing me from his embrace and quickly covered his growing tumescence as best he could.

"Don't be shy," I encouraged as I moved his hands and encased his soft, velvety smooth dick in my warm hand. I gave it a couple of encouraging strokes, just to work the kinks out, and released him.

We dressed and on the way to the bus stop, he just couldn't thank me enough for saving his ass. "I never would've thought that fast," he sputtered. "I was so scared I was about to shit myself."

Little did he know, I was saving his ass for myself.

I learned several things that day at the pool; I now knew why Eddie and Le Roy worked as a team. It was a matter of safety and self-preservation. I also learned a young cock in the hands of an older man is a formidable weapon, either for pleasure or to scare the living shit out of them! I don't think anyone wants to go to prison for sucking off a kid and ending up with some big, fat-dicked red-neck wanting to be your personal proctologist for ten to twenty years. That sweet little cock of mine and the round mounds flesh on my backside were money-makers and weapons; I wasn't afraid to use either of them for either purpose.

Watching Darnell as he thanked me, the gratitude and relief in his eyes, his acceptance of me, years younger and certainly not as physically tall or mature, as his champion; the one who saved him from a terrible fate, taught me another really and probably most important lesson of my life – whatever we do for the least of us, we do for all of us. If we don't watch over, care for, nurture, and provide for each other, who will?

I wasn't the only one who learned something that day. Darnell learned he liked cock and two eleventh graders who rode our bus to school heard everything that was said by the man and my response and decided Julian Corsairs was someone not to be trifled with, unless you wanted to pay up. Unbeknownst to me and Darnell, it didn't take those boys long to spread the word. Within a week, Darnell and I were subtly treated differently by the older boys at the pool and on the street. It was as if there was a more protective shield around us, yet a shield that we controlled, not the older boys.

To be continued:

***

Thank you for reading Julian Corsair – Chapter Four- "Mans discovery that his genitalia could serve as a weapon to generate fear must rank as one of the most important discoveries of prehistoric times, along with the use of fire and the first crude stone axe." –(Susan Brownmiller)

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