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There is some truth to this story however, the people, the place and time, regrettably, are long gone.

 

Provincetown, 1980

by Larkin, all rights reserved.

 

Ode to Wesley and Provincetown, 1980

The arguing and fighting was bitter and it seemed to go on forever until he went to his bedroom and slammed the door. He locked it and hastily grabbed a few things. Crawling out his window, he headed for the highway. To be specific, it was the onramp for the Pennsylvania Turnpike. In an instant, that part of his life was over. The boy was picked up almost immediately. Feeling emancipated, he looked towards a new world. At the moment it would be a summer resort on Cape Cod.

 

At the beginning of each season they arrived from here and there. Boys fleeing home, boys rejected or ejected and for the first time in their lives they would find themselves free and out in the world.

Tee-shirts and jeans, long or cut-off and maybe a canvas bag of basic items. An extra shirt, small amount of money if any, a zipped pouch with drugs of one sort of another and perhaps a pack of cigarettes. Life for some of them was promising to become a superb adventure and their optimism and readiness infected anyone in their company. Wesley was one of these boys.

Small and slim in stature, his blond, curly hair had not been fussed over, letting it fall where it may. Perhaps one reason was that he was blind as a bat without his glasses. The two prescription lens were set into a pair of frames they were not designed for. To overcome this problem He applied multiple layers of glue. Periodically one lens or another would pop out and Wesley would blindly re-apply more glue. It gave him the look of being sort of a patchwork boy. When he put the glasses aside so that the glue could dry, it was then that you could see an incredibly alluring face promising nothing but mischief, fun and trouble.

He sat on one of the park benches that were not already occupied by others and spread out to enjoy the sun and watch the passer-bys, He believed in giving the appearance of being completely,... good for nothing. This had always worked well in drawing to him, others like himself.

A guy, tanned and more substantial in frame, sat down next to him. They side glanced each other but avoided direct contact. That went on barely a minute.

It was the Italian who spoke first. "You live here?"

Wesley gave him a quizzical look and then shook his head no. It was immediately followed with a broad smile and then one of Wesley's silly, stupid laughs. The Italian, maybe in his late twenties, laughed too. With nothing to prove, Wesley was entirely friendly and physically familiar.

They had a few more lines of small talk until one said, "You wanna go smoke a joint?"

Do you want to go smoke a joint, was usually code for something much more explicit. Both boys rose up and crossing the street, slipped between two buildings. They climbed a narrow stairway into a fire exit alcove.

The Italian was proud. He arched his back and opened his pants. Wesley repressed what sounded like a giggle, looked up and smiled. When the Italian pulled out a large uncircumcised cock. Wesley slid down the foreskin to give it a quick look and then took it into his mouth.

Looking down at the patchwork boy, the Italian said, "Don't worry, no one ever comes up here."

This was not entirely true, but short of a fire, the worst that could happen is that you might run into someone else wanting to do the same thing. Wesley held on to keep his balance and the Italian roughly carried out the motions of intercourse into the boy's mouth. He pushed harder trapping Wesley awkwardly into the corner. It was exactly the way he liked it. He liked being taken over, used for someone else's selfish pleasure. It ignited a thrill deep inside of him. Wesley was sure that he would swoon over it later.

To say it lasted more than 10 minutes would be pushing it. When they came out of the alley, they both went separate ways behaving as if nothing had happened. Walking along and appearing to be lost in his thoughts, he swallowed the last of the Italian's cum. They never did smoke a joint.

Other than his basic needs, money didn't mean much to Wesley. He didn't require money to have sex with someone but if afterwards, they offered it out of gratitude or perceived obligation, that was just fine with him. The encounter with the Italian was so perfect that neither one gave the idea of money a thought. Wesley's life was governed by events like this and he was already preparing for the next. This is, after all, why he left home.

 

An androgynous male had been watching Wesley from across the street for some time. It was someone who looked much like himself only more intentionally feminine and taller. He was wearing a summery outfit and dark sunglasses. The boy in his early twenties was slender like a beanpole and had a slightly swishy gate.

Looking intently at Wesley he said, "Where'd you get those glasses?"

Wesley shrugged his shoulders and smiled.

"You should consider contacts."

Wesley gave a slight embarrassed laugh.

"Ahm Simon, what's your name?"

Being self conscious, he kept looking one way and then the other.

"Come on, let's go, too many people I know around here and I have to do some things."

They walked along, casually but conspicuously together. It was mostly Simon's doing.

"I wanted to get away from the park. I didn't want anyone to think I was pickin you up or anything."

He pulled down his glasses so Wesley could see his eyes and smiled.

Wesley said, "Were you pickin me up?"

Simon kept right on walking and looking forward as if he didn't care one way or another. "Of course I was but if you're not interested, you can go back and sit on the benches until some old faggot troll comes along."

They both laughed.

Because he was in jeans and a tee-shirt and young, Wesley wasn't apparently homosexual but Simon certainly was and Simon did care who knew it.

Simon's philosophy was, "What better way to get dick was to make it obvious to all that you are perfectly willing to suck it."

In saying this he left Wesley with no doubt, but then he didn't know that Wesley had just emerged from an alley with someone only 15 minutes before they met.

Simon's rental cottage consisted one small room kept tidy and spare. There was a sink and a small counter that served as a minimal kitchen and a bed covered with throw pillows and an Indian print to serve as a casual couch.

Without hesitation the two began to make-out. Wesley felt his cock being tugged at through his pants. It erected without resistance and Simon opened them exposing Wesley's cock and balls.

"God damn I guessed wrong, I thought you'd have a small skinny dick cause of your age and all. It's almost as big as mine."

With that he put Wesley's dick back in his mouth. It was reciprocated by naturally falling into an attitude of 69. This was a personal and intimate investigation of each other's privates.

Simon Changed his position. "You wouldn't want to fuck me would you? I hate to think of all that work.

if you do it right, I can cum spontaneously!"

Being without any reservations and using only spit, Wesley pushed and penetrated the tall girlish blond boy. Their congress was trouble free and pleasurable.