The Journal of Julian Corsair,

An Uncommonly Good Man


Copyright©2014 – Nicholas Hall



Julian Corsair – Chapter Five – "The world where the owl is endlessly hungry and endlessly on the hunt is the world in which I live too." (Mary Oliver)

Whether it was the war, the endless exhortations through the propaganda promulgated by the government, or the more seedy characters that were depicted in all of the posters and war film clips shown, Momma changed her mind, shortly after Darnell's and my little escapade at the pool, about me being promoted to the seventh grade, thus skipping the sixth. Granted there were predators lurking about in our world, but not in the seventh grade I thought.

The rest of the summer was really fun, more exhilarating, I thought, after our little dust-up with the pervert at the pool. Now that sounds strange, me, of all people, calling someone a "pervert" when I wasn't a bit hesitant about taking it up the ass or delivering a bit of a toot on the old horn to someone else, provided they were willing to pay (Darnell being the exception). Several of the older boys began escorting Darnell and me around the pool and in the changing room. Shower time we were never alone, it was always with some of the other boys. It never failed but one or all would stiffen up, their prods poking out from the bushes, sniffing for action, but reluctant to tackle the "little prince" without invitation, which I would do in a more appropriate, more private location- if the money was paid up front!

All of this new attention provided Darnell and me opportunities to ogle some very nice, big, medium, and small male appendages decorating the crotches of our escorts. The old British saying "keep a stiff upper lip" was quite evident with them every time Darnell and I stripped, although it wasn't an "upper lip" that was stiff; it was something much lower. Darnell and I just couldn't resist a giggle when we wiggled either our tush or thrust our crotch toward them and watched them throb just a little. Their peckers would stand at attention like the troops on parade, weapons ready for the attack should the order to "charge" come forth. I swear there were times I saw some of them lick their lips, dreaming of the sweet tastes of the forbidden fruit.

I figured we'd just bide our time. Let their eyes bug out like owls on the prowl winging their way for scurrying mice and voles. Lions, tigers, bears, and horny boys get hungry and Darnell and I had the evening treats, just waiting for them to reach a point of salivation so great they would just have to partake of the feast. Darnell and I were both cognizant of the simple truth in our business; there were people out there who'd hurt young boys if we weren't careful and not all of them were adults. There were a couple of high school boys we knew we'd never be left alone with. It was just in the way they looked at us. Darnell and I were becoming street wise in a hurry!

Momma finally picked up our ration books. Food rationing became effective earlier in the spring. There were some things that were scarce and others were not. "Red stamp" rationing allowed a person, with the appropriate stamps, to purchase certain quantities of meat, butter, some types of cheese, and cooking oil. "Blue stamp" rationing let us purchase canned fruits and vegetables, juices, dry beans, and other foods such as canned soups. Clothes, shoes, coffee, gasoline, tires, and fuel oil were also rationed. All of this was conditioned on the premise that such items were available. There were times long lines formed at the store to buy something and then the store would be out once the people toward the end of lines made it to the door.

In addition to rationing, radio blurbs, posters in store windows, and trailers on movie previews urged us all to conserve and recycle metal paper, rubber, and any other item that could be used in the war effort. Every neighborhood had paper drives and scrap metal drives. It was the very patriotic thing to do and gave us all a sense of helping out; helping fight a war so far away and doing it here at home – without fear of being blown to bits!

People learned to substitute one food item for another. For example, a box of macaroni and cheese was used as a substitute for meat and milk products. You could get two boxes of macaroni and cheese for one ration stamp. Cottage cheese was substituted for meat and was not rationed as closely.

We didn't seem to suffer much at our house; Tony always seemed to keep us supplied with plenty. In fact, sometimes there was such abundance we shared it with Darnell and his mom. Momma rewarded Tony profusely for his generosity; at least that's what it sounded like to me as she moaned and howls of his release emanated from her bedroom. I really didn't question where he got everything, but I was starting to get a pretty damned good idea.

One late summer evening, I was home alone preparing to hit the sack and heard someone knocking on the apartment door. I peered through the peep hole and saw Darnell standing there, a paper bag clutched in his hand. Opening the door, snorting, "Darnell, what the heck are doing out so late? What'sup?" and motioned him inside.

He sort of stammered, shuffled his feet back and forth looking down at them, finally stuttering, "Can I spend the night, Julian?"

Of course he could, he was my friend. After he asked and I said yes, Darnell, clearly embarrassed, sputtered, "Ma's got male company tonight and I usually stay with Miss Harrison across the hall, but she doesn't feel so good, so I thought I could stay here."

I led him down the hall to my bedroom and watched as he deposited the paper bag on my bed. I patted the bed, inviting him to sit down, and we just talked. I once asked him where his dad was since he and his mom seemed to live alone. She worked at a bar downtown and rode the bus to work, often leaving Darnell home by himself, like Momma did me.

He answered quite simply; "The old man did a bunk on us when I was about six and haven't seen him since."

As we sat there on the bed, Darnell looked around and inquired, "You sure your mom won't care?"

I assured him she could care less.

"How about your dad?"

"What dad?"

"Isn't Tony your old man?" he countered.

"Nah, I have no idea who my father is. Tony just lets us live here. We have a place to live, food to eat, and he gets to poke Momma for payment."

Darnell smiled, clearly relieved! Giggling, he babbled, "That's why I have to leave sometimes. Ma brings home some guy and they spend the night fucking. She doesn't think I know all about that shit, that's why she sends me over to Miss Harrison's. Apparently she's pretty good at it since the guys always seem to leave a pretty big donation to the house money!" and giggled again.

"Miss Harrison's an old maid retired school teacher, but really nice. She helps me with my school work. I don't read so good and math is hard, but she helps me a lot so I pass."

Once we had it sorted out our mothers worked two jobs, either in a café or bar or flat-backing, Darnell relaxed and we felt one hell of a lot more comfortable around each other. We were both stretched out on my bed as we visited and my head began to bob, so I announced I was going to bed, peeled off my shirt, kicked my tennis shoes and socks off, and pulled down my jeans and boxers.

"I sleep nude, Darnell," I announced and slipped under the covers.

"Can I?"

"Of course, you can, you silly goose. You don't think I want clothing in the way when I suck that big, beautiful banana you've got hanging between your legs, do you?" and snickered.

Darnell stripped and when he was bare-assed naked, his stiffy poked straight out about six inches, the head barely peeking out from that long foreskin of his. He crawled into bed and I slithered my nudeness up against his.

"Oh my God!" he squeaked when my bone slid up against his thigh. "That feels so good!"

"You ain't felt nothin' yet," I snorted lecherously, spinning myself around, buried my face in his crotch and engulfed as much of his length as I could while presenting mine to him.

Darnell pushed me back a bit, commenting, "You're growing, Julian."

I nodded, bobbing up and down on his dick, my lips suctioning him in a proper manner.

"... and you've got some hairs starting to sprout!"

I bobbed again, only this time his dick really twitched! Darnell wouldn't last long and neither would I since he now had me to the root. I fired first, a couple of thin, "just-starting-to-shoot-my wad" kind young boys do, and felt Darnell dick head swell, the piss slit opened and he unloaded a more copious offering to me. Before the night was over, Darnell discovered he really liked to be fucked and found more pleasure from topping me as well; and top me he could, driving deep and wide!

In the morning, when his ma came hunting for him, she and Momma struck up a conversation; one point of discussion led to another and they soon became good friends, both sharing in similar delights, providing for their boys (sons and lovers separately, I might add). Their discussions concerning what they had to do to survive and provide for themselves and their sons were frank and open, even around us, and they were quite unabashed by it. I think both of them knew Darnell and I'd take it up the ass for a few bucks to make the extra money that was not available otherwise.

Darnell became a regular visitor and that suited me just fine. He didn't seem displeased concerning the arrangement either; he'd get his rocks off in one way or the other and satisfy his taste buds and twitchy pucker as well. When school started, Darnell in tenth grade and me in sixth, we continued to ride the same city bus and he continued to be my shadow, hanging not far from me, still just as bashful and shyly timid around others as always, but allowing me to take the lead in our extracurricular employment activities. The price went up to any takers on the bus; one dollar to blow either Darnell or me (he many more takers I think because of the size of his dick), two dollars for us to blow them, and three dollars to fuck either of us (I had more takers I think because some big boys like to fuck little boys better than big boys). There weren't as many takers on the bus this year, but enough for us to each keep a fruit jar with cash in it under our beds. Once in a while an older chap on the bus would arrange to meet us somewhere after school and then we charged five bucks to let him have a ride on the bareback pony or three bucks for a toot on the pale piccolo.

Miss Harrison continued to help Darnell and now me, with our school work. The teacher I had kept giving me more advanced work, far beyond the sixth grade level, so I "would be challenged and develop my potential." Momma was so pleased with Miss Harrison's tutoring, she insisted, when I first suggested it, we share some of our coffee, sugar, flour, and other items with her. Miss Harrison was ever so grateful! She was becoming more and more part of our extended family. It really had to be tough on her during this time since her pension wasn't all that great and everything so scarce.

Darnell and I had a great start to the school year, all things considered. In addition to Miss Harrison tutoring him (where we went each afternoon after school when we weren't otherwise occupied, if you know what I mean), I spent time in the evenings, either at his apartment or mine, reading his assignments to him. Darnell wasn't stupid as some thought; he was a hell of a lot smarter than people gave him credit for. Once he heard it read to him, he could remember it; a math problem worked a couple of times for him became imprinted in his mind. Darnell was shy, introverted I think is what they might describe it today, and so, so hesitant to speak out, afraid he might fail in providing the right answer or making a fool of himself. However, around me, with whom he felt secure and comfortable, there were times he chattered like a blue jay.

His first quarter grade report was the best he ever had! Darnell credited his good grades to me and Miss Harrison, publicly. Privately he claimed he was soaking up my "smarts when I stick my dick up your butt and leave it there most of the night." Be that as it may, I didn't object having that log inserted while the leaves sprouted or playing turn-a-bout-is-fair play with him either.

December 1 (I remember that date very well), I came home from school, intending on going over to Miss Harrison's after I had a bit of a snack, unlocked the apartment door, dropped my school bag in the living room, and wandered to the kitchen in search of something to eat. I hoped Tony picked up some cookies or a candy bar from somewhere and left it in the cookie jar, although it was doubtful since we hadn't seen him in several days. Who knew where the hell he was anyway?

I was interrupted in my quest by loud, hard hammering of fists on the apartment door! Disgusted, I traipsed to the door, peered out through the peephole to see who was raising all the racket. Standing in front of the door were four guys in suits. The one nearest the door, a fat fucker with a beer gut hanging over his belt, responded when I asked who it was and what did they want.

"FBI!" he shouted, flashed a small gold badge at the peephole, "open up. We got a warrant to search this place."

Now, Momma always cautioned me never argue with a man wearing a badge and carrying a gun, so I opened up! The four of them barged in, looking about, evidently expecting the place to be inhabited by gun-toting thugs or something. The fat cop waved a piece of paper at me and demanded, "Who are you?"

"Julian Corsair – I live here. Who are you?"

He just curled his lip in distain and snarled back, "Anyone else here?"

I mean it didn't take a mental genius or somebody with X-Ray vision to quickly ascertain I was alone.

"Does it look like it?"

"Stay out of the way," growled the fat cop as the four of them began to toss the place. He started with my bedroom. Of course, the first place he looked was under my bed and encountered a couple of old socks Darnell and I used to soak up the dew from our lilies after we'd plucked the petals. He tossed them aside, knowing full well what the stains were, and muttered, "Disgusting little shit!" Come on now, he probably pulled his pud more than I did, but was afraid to admit it. He reached under the bed again and brought forth my fruit jar full of cash.

"What's this?" he asked, looking at it.

"Canned peaches," I snapped back.

He pulled the money from the jar and put it in a small sack he pulled from his pocket.

"Hey," I protested vehemently, "that's mine!"

"Yeah, right kid; how'd a kid like you get so much cash?"

There was no way I was going to tell him I let have the city bus riders fuck me for that wad of dough. There was fifty-six dollars in that jar.

"Allowance," I muttered, knowing full well my cash was trash and gone. I walked to the living room, picked up my school bag, wandered over to the book shelf against the far wall and picked out the American College Dictionary and a thick volume of Shakespeare's tragedies, stuffed them in with my school books, and started for the apartment door.

"Where you going, kid," the fat cop hollered at me from my bedroom (I guessed he was occupied sniffing the cum in my old socks so couldn't check on my wanderings personally).

"To the library – I've got school work to do. I don't want to grow up and be a "donny-dumb-dick' like you asshole!" and bugged out the door – fast! Down the stairs I scooted, into the alley, around the block, across the street, and up the back stairs to Darnell's.

His apartment door was open, so I tossed my school bag in there. I figured he was in with Miss Harrison. When I knocked, I heard her shout, "Come on in, Julian."

She and Darnell were standing looking out her window toward our apartment building across the street.

"I thought you might come this way when I saw you run out the front door and head into the alley," she mused.

I joined them as we watched the activity unfold. The Feds carried out several boxes of stuff to their cars and when joined by the apartment Super, talked to him a minute and left. I stayed at Miss Harrison's until I saw Momma come home and dashed across the street. Our apartment was a sight to behold! Clothes were strewn about, furniture tipped over, the book case emptied, cupboard doors open, and in general, a fucking mess! As we stood surveying the situation, the Super came up and told us we had twenty-four hours to get out; no way was he having a bunch of crooks living there!

Well, "fuck you and the horse you rode in on" was what I wanted to say, but Momma just nodded her head, indicating we'd do as ordered. We weren't crooks, but we started to pack, anyway. All we really had of our own were our clothes and some other personal items, so it didn't take long. Darnell and his mom and Miss Harrison came over to help and offered us a place to live. Since Darnell's place was only two bed room, Miss Harrison insisted Darnell and I live in her spare room.

We carted our stuff across the street, along with all of the food left over from the cupboard and fridge. Momma made some calls and found out Tony had been arrested earlier in the week and charged with "black marketeering and hijacking." That was the last we saw of him. The books I retrieved from the apartment proved to be a personal treasury of delight to me in later years. We lived with Darnell and his Mom and Miss Harrison until after Christmas and then all five of us moved – again. This time farther away and to a little town I'd never heard of.


Piqued as my interest might be concerning the new town Dr. J. was moving to and under what circumstances, it was late and I was tired, desiring only to seek some sleep. I had a busy day scheduled for the `morrow and those things I didn't get done today would have to be held in abeyance until a future time. I set the journal aside, vowing to continue reading it as soon as time and duties would permit and went upstairs to bed.

To be continued:


Thank you for reading Julian Corsair- Chapter Five –"The world where the owl is endlessly hungry and endlessly on the hunt is the world in which I live too." (Mary Oliver)

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Nick Hall

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