Tales from Another Time

by Questioner

This story is a fantasy. It did not happen. It is my fantasy and you cannot copy it or post it elsewhere without my permission. There are scenes of sex between males and if this offends you or if you think it is illegal to read or possess this in your place of residence, then I suggest you not read it. I would like you to write to me and let me know what you think of this. My address is questioner at myway dot com. I have also an online journal I would like you to read at Questioner..Thank you!

Note: Because the story begins in 1963, some of the characters may use words that are today considered ethnically offensive. It is not my intention to be insulting or offensive in any way. I am simply trying to present the times as realistically as possible.

Previously: It is 1963 and sixteen year-old Tyler Patterson has been kicked out of his house in the American industrial city of Northborough by his father after he is caught fooling around with his best friend. With no place to go and no idea what to do, he gets on a city bus and rides toward downtown. He gets off the bus in "the Arts District'" an area about which he has heard many rumours, in hopes that perhaps he might find someone or someplace for assistance. However, he is overcome with a sense of hopelessness and despair.

2.

“Hey, are those propellers dry yet?”

Tony Monaldi was sitting before his desk, the pieces of a plastic B-29 strewn before him under the small lamp. Danny O'Hara, seated beside him, touched the edge of one of the four sets of propellers before him.

“No, they're still a little tacky.”

He tested the landing gear beside them and added, “The landing gear are ready though.”

Tony nodded and picked one up. He slipped it into the bay under the front of the model and then picked up a tube of glue. With a pair of tweezers, he slipped a small plastic piece inside above the top of the gear, and then glued it into place. He checked the gear to make certain it still lowered and retracted and then set the plane down. He leaned back in his chair as the deejay on the radio announced, “You got Tony Baloney here on Music Radio 850 WFZ with The Beach Boys and 'Surf City!' Man, there won't be any surfin' on Lake Iroquois tonight! We’re looking for a low of 29!”

Tony turned the radio up.

“I love this song,” he said.

Danny shrugged and brushed his red hair up off his forehead.

“I dunno. I'm not that crazy about the Beach Boys.”

Tony snorted.

“Yeah, you like Martha and the Vandellas and the Shirrelles and all that Motown shit.”

“So?”

“You're a fag. Only fags and coloreds listen to that shit.”

Danny shoved his friend in the shoulder before declaring with a grin, “I'll show you fag! You wanna see fag?”

Tony laughed and turned away.

“Man, get that nasty thing outta my face! I don't wanna see your VD sores!”

“Yeah? Well, it was your momma gave 'em to me!”

Tony shoved back and knocked Danny to the floor. Both were laughing until Danny noticed a tube of airplane glue under Tony's nightstand, next to his pile of dirty magazines. He frowned.

“Man, you're still not sniffin' that stuff when you beat it, are you?”

Tony frowned and looked back toward the model airplane on his desk.

“Leave me alone, man.”

Danny crawled back up to his chair and looked around the darkened bedroom, lit only by the lamp on the desk. Behind them was the bed under the sloping roof of the converted attic, the bed on which he and Tony had so often jacked off on with each other and where Tony had sniffed his airplane glue the last time they had done it Sunday evening, a couple of nights before.

“You know, Tony, I'm worried about you sniffing that stuff. It's not good for you, man. It'll give you a stroke or a heart attack or something and kill all your brain cells. You don't got that many to start off with.”

“Yeah, yeah. Mr. Brainiac here.”

“Hey, I'm gonna get into college, man.

“You worry too much. That's three years away. Besides, I can always get a baseball scholarship.”

Danny sighed and sat back in his chair. From the floor below, they heard the telephone ring.

“That's probably my mom. It's almost ten. Hey, you gonna ask Gina or Linda to the party at Ralph's?”

“Depends,” Tony replied with a nasty grin,” on whether Gina's gonna make out or not. If she's gonna be all frigid and shit, then I'll take Linda.”

Danny shook his head.

“Linda's not gonna make out.”

“I know that, but if I'm not gettin' any, I might as well take the girl with the personality.”

Danny shook his head. “You'd fuck Gina but marry Linda. Man, Tony, you are so bad. Besides, how you gonna know before hand if Gina's gonna make out?”

Tony shrugged.

“I'll ask her. I'll use the old ‘Tony Baloney’ charm!”

Danny chuckled.

“You wish you had Tony Baloney's charm.”

From down below, the boys heard Tony's mother call up.

“Danny, your mother called. It's time for you to go home!”

“OK, Mrs. Monaldi. Thanks!” he shouted back.

He stood and as Tony rose from his chair, Danny suddenly grabbed his friend's crotch and grinned.

“Don't get beater's cramp tonight.”

He laughed and, before Tony could grab Danny's crotch back, the redhead had jumped to the stairs leading down to the second floor of the Monaldi house.

“Fuck you,” Tony replied with a chuckle.

“You wish,” Danny responded as he ran down the stairs.

However, an hour and a half later, after he had fought with two of his sisters and his older brother for access to the second floor bathroom, Tony was back in his room, alone, and throwing his robe on the foot of his bed. He stripped out of his boxers and stood naked and erect before the nightstand. He set his alarm clock and then walked to his desk, his erection pointing the way, and turned off the lamp. Lit only by a sliver of light from the street light in the alley as it peaked through the curtains, the room was plunged into darkness, the darkness Tony loved. He padded over to the nightstand and picked up the tube of airplane glue from the floor. He pulled the sheets back on his bed and lay down. Reaching under the bed, he pulled a paper bag from underneath. Setting the glue and bag aside, he lay down and grabbed his hard-on.

Moaning softly, he felt his cock and balls, running his fingers softly over them and through his thick, black public hair. Fucking Danny O'Hara was precisely what Tony Monaldi was wishing, along with kissing him, holding him, and sucking him. For Tony's secret, which he had admitted to no one, not the priest, not even the boy who had been his best buddy, his beat-off buddy since they were eleven, was that he was in love with Danny O'Hara and if he could find a way to marry him instead of Linda Petrone, he would.

Danny was everything Tony admired. He was the smartest guy he knew, the best pitcher he had ever played with, and the best looking guy at McKinley. With the exception of the freckles on his arms and shoulders and the red hair around his cock and under his arms, his body was almost identical to Tony's, the same muscular build, the same pecs and abs, the same big feet and hands growing faster than the rest of his body, the same thick six inch cock curving slightly upward. His laughing green eyes and ready grin could make Tony's cock hard faster than anything and his red hair, falling over his ears and forehead and curling around in the back, was perfect, just perfect.

Tony loved Danny, but he would never be able to tell his friend or truly consummate the love he felt. However, he did have those occasional ten or so minutes when they could pull out the dirty magazines Tony had stolen from his brother Mikey and jack off with each other. Sometimes, if Danny was especially horny, he and Tony would jack each other and that was when Tony was in absolute heaven. Careful not to act too queer, he would pump Danny just the way he knew would get his friend off the hardest, sometimes playing with his balls to add just the right amount of nastiness to their jacking so that he could see Danny's eyes shut tight and his mouth open as if he were in the most incredible agony as he shot his thick teenage cum all over Tony's pumping fist. Once, when Danny was too exhausted after his orgasm to notice, Tony had wiped his friend's cum all over his own cock before jacking himself over the top and the resulting orgasm was the most intense he had ever experienced.

“Ah, Danny,” he whispered as he began pumping himself. “You're so fuckin' hot. I wanna suck you, man. I wanna suck your cock, you're big, thick, hot cock.”

Tony stroked himself faster, fantasizing about Danny's cock in his mouth, of being on his knees in front of the beautiful Irish boy, feeling his best friend hold his head and fuck his mouth. He loved Danny, he loved his body, he loved his cock.

After several minutes and twice deferring his orgasm, Tony finally released his boner and picked up the paper bag. He opened the airplane glue inside the bag and waited a moment before placing the bag over his face and inhaling deeply.

“Ah, fuck, yeah,” he muttered as his head fell back on the pillow. It took him a moment before he could remember to stroke himself, but when he did, the feeling was too much. With visions of Danny O'Hara's naked body before him, of Danny's face next to his, of Danny's mouth on his, he stroked himself over the top and shot his teen cream all over his stomach and chest, thrusting his hips up and even getting some cum on his chin.