I awoke with a startle to my alarm. For a brief moment, I did not know where I was. I I quickly shook off my grogginess. I must have fallen asleep as soon as I had hit the bed. Normally I am a restless sleeper. My bed in the morning looks like four people had been dancing on it. Today it hardly appeared slept in at all. I was nude, no pajama bottom. My normal morning erection was tenting the duvet. I threw off the duvet and top sheet.
I looked at my bed-side table. There lay the banana. I reached for it. It occurred to me, holding it, that this banana does look like an erect penis. To have brought it upstairs last night and forgetting it informed me that I had been excited but also very tired.
The banana was about seven inches long with a five-inch circumference. I fondled the firm fruit up and down. It was not as big as Drew’s cock but still a reasonable facsimile. I felt my dick twitching. Did it make sense for Bobby to practice on bananas or was Drew teasing me. If he did, how? The thought of putting it in my mouth with its small rough tip and probably dirty skin made be shudder. Did he remove the skin? If skinned, would it not become mush? What if it got lodged in my throat and I choked to death, shamefully being found naked in my bed with a banana in my throat!
I am sure that, you, reader, will find this naive, as I do now. But I really had no idea about gayness and sex despite my two brief intoxicating experiences. Much of one’s learning is from untutored self-experiences and the mistakes that result from them. But one also learns from reading. Some people prefer one over the other but I am an avid reader. I usually obtained my initial introduction to things from books. There were no books, alas, in my house to assist me.
I decided that I would not remove the skin. I put the banana it into my mouth. It was coarse and the tip made be slightly nauseous. This was a bad idea. I peeled it. It was quite firm, not fully ripe with a silky texture. It was, from what I know now, conveniently curved. My mouth opened and I put the peeled fruit in, feeling its shape. My tongue stroked the bottom of it. I thought of Drew’s cock. My dick was obviously showing its approval. I gradually pushed it in a bit farther. I rolled my tongue around it, fantasying about sucking Drew. This fantasy pushed my desire to consume Drew leaving not an inch of distance between him and me. I moved the banana too quickly and when it reached my throat, I coughed and gagged. My teeth automatically responded by clamping down on the banana, severing it, leaving five inches in my mouth. This is not good, I thought. I ate it without appetite, got up, went to the bathroom and threw away the remaining two inches in the toilet.
I showered, covering myself in a rich soapy lather, rubbing my body all over. I washed my butt and felt a thrill when my fingers stroked my anus. My dick was hard again. I thought of the banana and Drew’s big cock and wanked myself to long spurts joining the shower stream down the drain. I towelled off looking at myself in some admiration.
This was my new confidence. Certainty that I was gay, with sexual experiences with someone, added to my self-esteem. Although I surely could not have handled anyone other than Drew knowing, the fact that he knew and that it did not alter our friendship, made me feel mature. I was growing up.
I wanted to get more information on gay sex. I could not go to the library. You might wonder why I did not go on the Net. Remember this was 1995. My father had a 386SX in his home office downstairs which was linked for e-mail with the university. We had a 28.8 modem. I rarely used it except for assignments because he had the professor’s WordPerfect.
But we did have a health class last year in which we were handed out our city’s resources for mental and physical health. One of the boys laughed when he read ``Gayline`which was a gay resource centre and teasingly said, “Donny will need that one.” Donny was a small somewhat effeminate guy who was always alone. Many of the boys teased him. I always felt sorry for him but perhaps because I was afraid of my own sexuality never came to his defence.
[I am twenty-six now and always try to come to the defence of the bullied. I came across a poem a couple of years ago by Seamus Heaney who describes an ancient woman found in a peat bog in Ireland. She had been tarred and feathered because of adultery and put to death. Heaney, looking at the mummified remains, describes the scene as he imagines it, putting himself as a witness to her execution. He writes:
“I almost loved you
but would have cast, I know,
the stones of silence.”
Everyone remains silent at some time when one should speak out. Silence does cast a stone.]
I decided that after school I would look for that resource material in my cluttered room. The good thing about clutter is that you know you have not thrown it out: the bad is that you might not be able to find it.
It turned out to be an ordinary school day made longer by my decision to get information once I got home. As always Drew and I ate together at lunch. He was very excited about his diving lesson. He surprised me by saying that he had gone through the play finding the Hamlet/Horatio lines. I told him that I just went to bed right when I got home. Winking at me, he said, “Can’t you keep your end up in this thing?” We both laughed.
“Hey, house, I’m home.” Typical. No response. Nor should there have been for on the kitchen table was a note from my mother that she had gone to hairdresser and would not be home until 6:00. She asked that I put the leftover stew in the oven at 250 degrees around 5:00. She would get the rest of the stuff ready when she got home. I grabbed some chocolate cake and milk and brought it upstairs to my room. I ate when thumbing through the play making notes on the lines, acts etc. Horatio, you already know, is in the play from the beginning giving the tone of the play, some history and he lines anticipate Hamlet’s entrance. So Horatio is at the beginning of ths story and the end. I surprised myself that I identified with him and even visualized him as resembling me. In the second scene Hamlet identifies himself as a friend of Horatio. Drew’s outline was going to make this project interesting and very workable.
I sat back thinking of Drew and his diving lesson. I imagined how beautiful he must look in those graceful dives. I would have to ask him if I could go to one of the lessons.
I got up, as I often do, and walked around the room. I attempted to find that resource material from last year. I could not find it no matter where I looked. I thumbed through the telephone book until I got to “G” and there in bold letters was “Gayline.” I thought it was fortuitous that my mother was out so that there would be no chance of interruption nor over-hearing. I rehearsed what I was going to ask.
876-2495 - I dialled. - Busy. – Re-dialled. - Busy. “Shit.” I went back to my desk but got up immediately and tried again. It rang three times and someone answered in a somewhat effeminate voice.
“Gayline. Can I help you?” I was excited but nervous. “Hello,” he said.
I spoke in a fake deep voice: “I am from out of town and want to know what gay activities are in the city.” My voice cracked over a few words. Not very convincing, I thought.
“What are you looking for? The baths? Gay films and erotica Gay bars or clubs? Social gatherings?. Sports?.”
I was stunned. All that in our city! And what did he mean by the baths? I really just wanted to know if there were any gay bookstores. I knew there were gay sections in several bookstores but I was too afraid to look at them when someone might see me. In fact, I averted my eyes every time I went into one of them.
“Are you still there?”
I said, ‘Well ... Are there any pickup games for basketball?” What a stupid question, I thought and blushed.
He said, “No. There is no basketball but there is bowling.”
I replied, “Well, Are there any bookstores?” This was quite stupid also, I thought. Why would I be asking about bookstores for gays if I was from out-of-town?
“There are three,” he said. “One downtown just off Beamish Street on Argyle, The Outsider. There is a woman’s and lesbian’s store that has some gay male stuff on Fourth Avenue right at 6th Street, called Women’s Way. And there is one, The Stonewall Experience, out of the way just opposite the closed Sandcliff Mall.”
“Thanks very much.”
Before hanging up he said, “The Gay Youth line is 876-2497. Take care.”
So much for my pretense at being older! I was embarrassed but happy to have the information. I knew that I would not go the bookstore downtown. I could go to the women’s store but was fairly sure they would not have what I wanted. And in any event how do you look at gay male literature when there are women staring at you. I would go to the store across the street from the mall. I planned to do it Saturday morning before I saw Drew who had diving lessons in the morning. But what if it is not open in the morning? I thought. I better mull this over. I could go Friday night after dinner and tell my parents that I was working on the project with Drew. But what if he calls me? I had never been a liar so I did not know if I could even pull it off. The phone rang.
“Hey, what’s doing?” It was Drew.
“I thought you were at your diving thing.”
“I am. But I am calling you to tell you I have been invited to the diving meet Friday evening. Also, coach has changed my time on Saturday until the afternoon. So I won’t be home until 5:00. Papa will order out so can’t we start our stuff until 7:00. Do you want to come to dinner or maybe sleep over?”
“Well I have to check with my parents. I’ll tell you tomorrow.” I could hear someone calling, “Drew” in the background of his call. “Ok. Catch up with you tomorrow.’ He hung up.
I made my decision to go to the bookstore Friday night. I would tell my parents that I would be at Drew’s on Friday. I would also tell them there was a possibility that I would have dinner on Saturday at Drew’s and might sleep over.
Suddenly I realized the enormity of sleeping over, something which in my prior Drew time I would not have given any thought to.
I forgot the stew.
Chapter 5 - The Bookstore