Date: Wed, 10 Nov 2004 13:33:20 +0000
From: Moore
Subject: When The Time Is Right - Part One

WHEN THE TIME IS RIGHT
BY:  MOORE

PART 1

Chapter 1

The locker room was deserted during lunchtime, just as we expected
it would be on a sunny day in late June.  The other ninth grade boys
were either in the cafeteria or out in the schoolyard. We'd never
done it in school before and I was a nervous, but excited 15 year
old who couldn't wait for the school day to end. We made our way
towards the back and he sat down on the narrow bench that ran
between the lockers. Standing before him I shivered in anticipation,
my legs were trembling when he unzipped my pants and reached in for
my cock.

~~~~

Nobody at school knows it, but Mark Levine is queer. Yup, Mark's a
homosexual...a fag.  I knew it because Mark had told me so himself
and because, well, because we'd been secretly having sex since
October, shortly after we began a term project about President
Kennedy. October 14, 1963 to be exact. The day I let the genie out
of the bottle, opened the closet door if only a crack...the day I
sort of became a fag.

I'd known Mark casually since the seventh grade, say hello in the
hallway sort of thing, before we started working on the Kennedy
project. We hung out with a different group of friends. I sure
didn't know or even suspect that he was a homo then, but two years
ago when I was a 13 year old kid, I barely knew what a homosexual
was...let alone acknowledge the pretty obvious signs of homosexual
tendencies in myself.

I liked to look at boys...okay, naked boys. And I thought about,
pictured my classmates naked when I masturbated. So maybe I did know
or should have known that I was more than a little bit queer. But
the time wasn't right to admit it...face up to the fact that, like
Mark Levine, I was a homosexual too.

The two of us had nothing, well, nothing obviously in common. I was
average height, thin and fairly athletic. My mother said I was the
most handsome of her three sons, with my blond hair and blue eyes,
but she probably said the same thing to my brothers when they were
my age.  Mark was short, chubby and couldn't hit a baseball to save
his life. He was very smart though, and very mature as I was to
discover. He knew about books and music and art, stuff I knew little
about.  He could take the subway by himself to the city to see shows
and museums or just hang out.

I envied Mark all the freedom he had since I could hardly leave the
neighborhood without asking my mother's permission. So because of
our obvious differences we were just casual friends.  When we
discovered our hidden common interest, we quickly became very good
friends.

We worked on the project at his family's apartment because unlike my
busy house where my mother and older brothers were always coming and
going, Mark's place on the top floor of a big apartment house was
usually empty on weekday afternoons. His father was at work and his
sister went to a community college in the city.  When I asked about
his mother he told me his folks were divorced and that she lived in
California. I guess that's why his room, the whole place, was so
messy.  My Italian mother wouldn't have allowed the mess, let alone
the teenage experimentation that took place there.

Several weeks into the project Mark and I and Larry, the third
member of our team, were discussing Kennedy's new Peace Corps. Larry
had a recent issue of National Geographic with an article about the
volunteers that were serving in third world countries.

"Man, I'd volunteer to serve in that African country in a split
second," Larry said with a laugh.  "The women are topless.  Take a
look Steven."

The colored women were topless alright.  Bare breasts, nipples and
all, right on the page in living color.  Mark shifted over next to
me on the couch to see the photo. I could feel his warm breath on my
neck and his leg touching mine as I flipped the page and froze.

Staring back at me was a full page photo that could have come right
out of one of my frequent wet dreams or jerk off fantasies.  The
women in that African tribe may have been topless, but the boys, oh
god, the boys were naked. A dozen or so completely naked boys lined
up, posing for the camera. Naked brown bodies and...I felt my penis
getting hard.

I've seen guys naked before.  At home of course, where I share a
room with George and Terrence, my older brothers. And also at the
YMCA.  Lots of naked men, fathers and sons, at the Y. I never gave
it much thought, nor did nudity have much effect on me until I was
about 12 and woke up one morning with sticky stuff in my pajamas. 
My brother George explained it all to me, the birds and the bees,
and told me not to worry. He said it was a nocturnal emission, a wet
dream, and that it would stop when I got a little older.

I became very aware of my body after that first wet dream. The
changes taking place, pubic hair, and very self conscious about the
size of my penis. It was small compared to my older brothers and
seemed smaller, at least to me it did, than all of the other boys my
age I saw at Y. I started to bone up all the time, especially when
I got undressed in the locker room with other boys present. And my
wet dreams, rather than stop, became more frequent. The same dream
nearly every night, of naked boys with big penises and lots of pubic
hair, teasing me, making fun of my tiny, all but hairless penis. I'd
wake up some nights in a cold sweat with my hand around my boner and
masturbate quickly with the dream still fresh in my mind. Guilt and
shame followed my orgasm. Denial came later. 

"You ok, Steven?"  Mark asked.

"What? Oh yeah, fine," I said standing up. Mark had a funny smile on
his face.  "Gotta use the john."

I stepped over Larry who was sprawled on the floor and headed to the
bathroom. Mark called out, "Have a good time," as I closed and
locked the door.  The cold water on my face helped some. What I
really needed to do was get home and masturbate.  The picture of the
naked African boys had turned me on.

I left Mark's house a few minutes later, claiming I had to get home
in time for supper.  We agreed to meet again on Friday.  Mark hadn't
made any comment when I came out of the bathroom, but I agonized on
the way home anyway.  What had he meant by telling me to have a good
time in the bathroom, and that smile on his face. And why had he
stuffed the magazine, Larry's magazine, in my backpack?

"Dinner in an hour, Steven," my mom called out as I raced up the
stairs to the bathroom.  With the door locked and my jeans around my
ankles, I retrieved the magazine and opened it to the picture. I
examined each boy carefully and then examined myself.  My penis was
erect and making a tent in my Fruit of the Loom underwear.

Fruits, that's what George calls them.  He and Terrence wear boxer
shorts, my dad too, but I stayed with Fruits. I would have switched
to boxers, but that would have meant taking them off when I changed
for gym and putting on a jock strap instead of just quickly putting
on my gym shorts over my Fruits. Jock straps were so cool and I
wanted to wear one in the worst way. If my penis was bigger, if I
had more pubic hair, if I didn't bone up so fast, maybe I wouldn't
have been so embarrassed to strip in the locker room.  If I had a
body like Mitch Greer, captain of the basketball team, I'd have be
proud to show it off the way he did.

Mitch made a big show of getting undressed and standing around
totally naked in front of his locker pretending to be a famous
athlete after a big game.  I tried not to stare at his penis, I
really tried, but his locker was across from mine and it was hard
not to look. Especially when he started to scratch himself. His
penis was really long, kind of swayed when he walked. And he had so
much hair, and the way his testicles hung down...my eyes were drawn
to his crotch like a fly to honey and I got a boner.

I masturbated almost every day, often thinking about Mitch, and
afterwards I always felt guilty about masturbating, which is a sin
I sometimes confessed to in church on Sundays.  Not unless he asked
though, and I didn't share all my thoughts with Father Peter who
asked the same question, 'did you abuse yourself this week?' and
heard the same confession, 'yes father,' from every teenage boy in
the parish.

George and Terrence were in the hallway when I came out of the
bathroom with a wad of sticky tissues in my pocket.  I used to flush
them down the toilet until discovering how much I liked the smell of
sperm.  One whiff makes my head spin and my penis throb like mad.

"Caught you red handed," George said, snatching the magazine from my
hand.

I felt my face turning red. "What?" I said with all the innocence of
an altar boy.

"Boy, bathroom, magazine," George said to Terrence who was also
grinning.  "I'd say you were...National Geographic?"

"What did you think it was, George," I said, snatching it back.
"Playboy?"

"How was your day, dear?"  Mom asked like she does every night as my
dad took his seat at the head of the table and began to eat his
dinner.  My dad's a police officer, one of New York's finest, and he
usually has a funny story about something that happened on his beat.
Tonight, though, he was kind of quiet until mom asked how my Kennedy
project was coming along.

"Great man that John Kennedy," dad offered. "Going to be a great
president."  Not surprising coming from dad who was proud to be
Irish.  "If he's like his old man...well, there'll be a few pretty
ladies in and out of the White House. I hope the papers'll keep
their noses out of his private life."

Terrence winked at George and said, "You mean his sex life don't you
dad?"

Dad winked back and nodded. Mom started to protest, but dad raised
his hand and said, "It's okay, the boys have to learn. Sex is part
of life and what President Kennedy does in private is nobody's
business. Private I say, not public displays like, like..."

Dad stopped to take a drink of water. "We raided a place near Times
Square today, a flashy new place. This one was different from the
others we've shut down before. This one had girls and boys dancing
on stage, not one over twenty and not one with a stitch of clothes
on. Boys and girls, naked as the day they were born. And in the back
rooms we found two homosex..."

"That's enough I think, dear," mom interrupted. "Our sons don't need
to hear the sordid details. The Mayor should do something about the
mess in Times Square. It's sinful what goes on, sinful."

We finished dinner talking about other things. I stayed behind to
help mom with the dishes while the others went to watch TV.

"Father Peter would like to see you after mass on Sunday," mom said
handing me a wet plate for drying.

"Do you know what he wants?"  I said, fearing the worst. Priests
always have some project, want you to do something for the church or
for them.  Father Peter's been at our church a few months and he's
nothing like Father Francis who retired after a zillion years. He's
younger for one thing and a lot more physical. Always putting his
arm around your shoulder and holding your hand a little longer than
necessary.  The guy is like a little weird if you ask me.

"I think he wants you to help him with the cub scouts," mom said.
"Twenty little boys is too many for one man to handle alone. So can
I tell him you'll see him after mass?"

What could I say?

Chapter 2

I used to be a cub scout and a boy scout, just a few merit badges
short of qualifying for Star when I surprised my parents and quit
last August.  I quit right after coming home from boy scout camp.
Boy sex camp would be a better name, a month in hell that I'd long
remember.

I remember it was raining lightly when the bus with the scouts from
New York City, all strangers to me, arrived at the camp. I found
bunk house number ten and said hello to the other scouts, five older
boys from Albany who had already stowed their gear. Dinner, an
orientation meeting and back to the bunk house to get ready for
lights out at ten. The scouts from Albany were friendly enough,
especially a boy named Gary who was almost an Eagle.

It rained lightly for the next two days, finally stopping a few
minutes before lights out on the third night.  The moon came out and
so did Gary's penis.  He took off his pajamas and began to play with
his penis.  "C'mon, everybody," he said. "Circle jerk."

One by one everybody, except me, was naked and masturbating in the
middle of the bunk house.  "What's the matter, Steven? Don't you
jerk off?"

I was too stunned to speak....only stare down from my top bunk.

"You do have a cock?"

"Maybe he's a girl."

"Maybe he's a homo."

"Show us your cock, Steven."

"Yeah, let's see your dick."

No way was I going to show them my tiny penis.  The five of them
were built like men. I was like a baby compared to them. "Leave me
alone," I said, turning to the wall and putting the pillow over my
head to drown out their laughter and my sobs.

I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew it was
morning, the sun was shining for the first time since we arrived,
and the PA system was calling everybody to assemble by the flag pole
for the pre-breakfast swim in two minutes.  I was the last to show
up and much to my amazement, the only boy scout wearing a bathing
suit.

Later I learned that the scout master had this back to nature
theory, that it would toughen our young bodies to be exposed to the
sun, so twice a day we had to walk the half mile to the lake and the
half mile back....naked.  Right now I had to deal with a hundred
naked boy scouts staring and at me while I very slowly took off my
bathing suit.

All those naked boys, considering the circumstances, had a most
embarrassing and predictable effect.  Small as it was, there was no
hiding my erection and no way to avoid the scrutiny of my fellow
scouts.  Baby Dick, I was quickly dubbed.  Me and a few more boys
who hadn't yet matured as much as the other scouts. I had a hint of
blond pubic hair, if you looked close, and a hint of hair under my
arms, unlike Leslie Goldstein who was totally bare and totally
unashamed to be sporting a boner.

His tiny penis was rigid, tight up against his belly and he didn't
seem to care one bit that the scouts were laughing at him. Leslie
looked normal, not retarded or anything, but I got the feeling that
Leslie wasn't playing with a full deck of cards. Gary and his pals
called themselves the Big Dicks and teased us Baby Dicks all the way
to the lake.

Leslie came to my bunk house that night just before lights out and
surprised the hell out of me when he took off his pajamas and joined
my bunk mates in their nightly circle jerk. I nearly fell out of my
top bunk when he actually put his hand on Gary's stiff penis,
wrapped his fingers around it, stroked it and giggled when Gary
grunted and ejaculated a load of sperm onto the floor. "Do me next,"
one of the others said as the lights went out and the room became
dark.

I had a wet dream that night. My pj's were soaked with sticky sperm
when I woke for morning swim.  To make matters worse, I had a boner
that wouldn't quite. Fortunately, lots of boys had morning erections
as we made our way to the lake.  Unfortunately, I was the only Baby
Dick with a hardon.  Gary and his fellow Big Dicks, all sporting
full sized cocks, had plenty more to say about my little hardon.


Leslie came by again that night and every night that first week.
During the day he hung out with Gary and the Big Dicks...at night he
jerked them off. It seemed like everyone was jerking off openly in
the shower room, behind the boat house...everyone except me. Each of
my fellow Baby Dicks had joined a group of Big Dicks for circle jerk
sessions which left me the only outsider and the butt of everyone's
jokes.  I was miserable.

I fell asleep early one night during the second week of camp only to
be awakened by whispers in the dark.  "Don't worry about Steven," I
heard Gary say.  "He's asleep."

"Are you sure?  I don't want him...I don't want anybody to know
about this. Can't I do you in the boat house, like this morning, huh
Gary?"

Leslie?  What was he doing here in the middle of the night?

"It's too far away, Leslie, and besides, it's pitch black outside.
C'mon, you wanna be in the club don't you?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Then get down and give me some head."

"Gary?"

"What is it, cocksucker?"

"I wish you wouldn't call me that?"

Gary sniggered. "Call you what, Leslie?"

"Cocksucker," Leslie whispered. "Somebody might hear you and get
suspicious. I'm afraid the other boys will laugh at me if they find
out."

"Find out what?" One of the other boys teased.

"Find out that I'm, you know, sucking."

"Sucking what?  You're thumb?"

Leslie giggled before answering. "No, silly, not my thumb, cock.
Sucking cocks."

Silence for a moment, and then Leslie said softly.  "I guess that
sort of makes me a cocksucker, huh?"

"And a faggot too, Leslie," another boy pitched in. "Remember what
we told you this morning?"

"Yeah, right," Leslie agreed. "A faggot too."

"Now that we have that settled its party time, Leslie. Turn on the
flashlight."

I peeked out from under the covers.

"Remember to watch your teeth," Gary said, kicking aside his pajama
bottoms.

More flashlights clicked on and there was Leslie Goldstein on his
knees, Gary's erect penis in his hand, pointed at his face like he
was really going to put it in his mouth.

I thought I was dreaming. I had to be dreaming. The boys at home
joked around, called each other cocksucker, but it was just a joke,
right?  Nobody would actually put a guy's penis in his mouth. Nobody
in his right mind would actually suck a guy's cock. Would they?

"Gary?"

"What now, cocksucker?"

"Do you have to, you know...I like the sucking part, Gary, but do
you have to do it, you know, the sperm...do it in my mouth? I
swallowed this morning...."

"That's what fags do, Leslie. It's part of the blow job."

"I did like the squirts in my mouth."

"And you'll learn to like the taste of cum too.  A few more blow
jobs, after tonight Leslie, the sperm'll taste great. Now show me
what a good cocksucker you've become and start sucking my dick."

Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Leslie was actually doing it.  Gary's penis
was in his mouth and Leslie was sucking it.  He must have been doing
a good job because in no time at all Gary cried out, "I'm cumming."

Leslie swallowed most of the sperm.  Gulped it down noisily as Gary
held his head in place and ejaculated into his mouth. A little sperm
dribbled out of the corners of Leslie's mouth, but he ate the rest
of it and then licked Gary clean.

"Not so fast, cocksucker," Gary said, pushing down hard on Leslie's
shoulders.  "There's four more big dicks for you to suck off. Four
more loads of nut juice for your cocksucker mouth."

"Okay, sure Gary, I'll suck off everybody.  Only the floor is so
hard that my knees are starting to hurt."

"Come sit on the bed, give your knees a rest.  You can suck dick
sitting on your ass."

Leslie did as he was told and sat on the bunk under mine. I couldn't
see the next four blow jobs, but I could hear the sounds of sucking
and slurping and gulping as each guy took a turn in Leslie's mouth.
I stayed very quiet, pretending to be asleep, even though the bunk
bed shook with each orgasm.

"I better go now, Gary. So much cum in my belly, I think I'm going
to throw up."

"One more blow job, Leslie.  Watching you suck dick has got me hard
again.  Lick my balls first, faggot, underneath too.  Oh, man that
feels so good."

Gary's hands were resting on my bunk, his head inches from mine. I
could feel his breath through the cover. I flinched when I felt a
hand go under the cover, work its way up my leg and come to rest in
my crotch.  His fingers found the opening in my pajamas and for the
first time in my life I felt a strange hand on my bare penis. It was
like the time I touched a frayed wire and got an electric shock only
this shock made my whole body tingle and my boner jump.


"Gonna cum any second now, Leslie. Cum in your faggot cocksucker
mouth. How about you, Steven?" Gary whispered in my ear. "You gonna
cum soon?"

Gary's hand pumping my penis had me on the edge, thrusting my hips,
clenching my muscles...and I came.  The air blew out of my lungs,
semen blew out of my penis.

"You owe me one," Gary said, giving my penis a final squeeze. "It's
time you joined the club, baby dick.  Leslie can use some help
taking care of all the big dicks who want blow jobs.  Who knows,
little baby dick like yours, you might be a fag too, a cocksucker
just like Leslie."

I never did join the club because Gary was gone when I woke up in
the morning.  Appendicitis, the scout master announced when we all
assembled for morning swim.  I was disappointed at first, then sort
of relieved as I hurried to the lake to wash away the semen that had
dried on my body.  Gary's hand stroking on my penis had felt great,
but I wasn't so sure about joining his club...returning the favor.
What if he made me take his penis in my mouth, suck him off like
Leslie did? I'll admit I was curious. Gary had opened a door I was
afraid to walk through.  The time wasn't right.

Leslie moved out of his bunk house into mine that night. Into Gary's
bed. We started having visitors that night too, after lights out.
Boy scouts came by for blow jobs and Leslie took care of them all.
In fact, he seemed to be enjoying it more and more. So much so that
he started doing it during the daytime too...in the shower, by the
lake.  He looked like a jerk sneaking around the camp wearing
nothing except his sneakers, asking his fellow boy scouts if they
wanted a blow job. Asking right out if he could suck their dicks and
laughing when they called him a cocksucker and a fag.

The last day of boy scout camp couldn't come soon enough for me.
Getting on the bus for the long ride home, I swore to myself that I
was going to quit. I was done with scouting, but not with the
memories that haunted my sleep for the next few years. Nightmares,
three of them, separate dreams that I couldn't share with a sole.

~~~~

"Sure, Mom," I said.  "I'll see Father Peter after mass on Sunday."


Chapter 3

"Strip poker," Mark said.  "C'mon everybody, it'll be fun."

We had finished the unit on Kennedy's wartime heroics aboard PT109
and decided to take a break, start the weekend early.

"Okay, sure. Let's play," Larry said. I reluctantly went along.

"I never lose when my family plays for pennies," Larry boasted as
Mark dealt the cards.  "You guys don't have a chance."

Ten minutes into the game and Larry was barefoot. Mark and I had
each lost a shoe.  Another few hands and Larry announced suddenly
that he had to go home. He wasn't fooling anyone with his lame
excuse about a dentist appointment. He was about to lose his pants.
One more losing hand and he'd be naked in front of Mark and me.


I figured we'd quit after Larry left, but Mark simply smiled, handed
me the cards and told me to deal.  I dealt. It all came down to the
final hand. One more hand and one of us was going to lose our Fruit
of the Looms. One of us was going to be naked in front of the other.

I didn't mean to look at Mark's hand and I only saw one card anyway.
An ace.  Mark took one card. I drew three and ended up with three
nines.  A pretty good hand unless he had a straight.  Mark smiled at
me as he turned over his cards one at a time. King, queen, jack, ten
appeared and the room suddendly got very hot. I was sunk and
sweating furiously. I knew he had an ace to complete the straight.

My penis hadn't grown much since boy scout camp. Even hard I was
still a baby dick and my blond pubic hair did nothing for my self
confidence.  Oddly enough, I felt the stirrings of an erection as
Mark played with his last card.  I was about to lose the hand, lose
my Fruits, and the thought of being naked in front of Mark was
giving me a boner.

Mark flipped over his last card. A deuce.  A deuce?  What happened
to the ace?

Mark was staring at my crotch when he asked what I had and smiled
when I showed my three nines.  "You win," he said standing up and
stepping back from the couch. "I lose. I gotta strip, show you my
dick."

His eyes never left mine as he slowly lowered his Fruit of the Loom
underwear to reveal a semi hard penis that looked a lot like mine.
He had a tiny patch of light brown pubic hair and small balls
hanging between his chubby thighs.  Mark was a baby dick too. A baby
dick just like me.  He surprised me by stepping forward and dropping
to his knees between my legs.

"Let me see yours, Steven," he said, putting his hands on my knees.
"Please."

I didn't say anything, but when his hands moved to the waistband of
my Fruits, I closed my eyes, raised my ass up, and allowed Mark to
slip them off. His hands came to rest on the naked flesh of my
trembling thighs, his thumbs gently probing around my testicles. My
eyes flew open when he grasped my hardon.

"I just knew you'd have a nice cock, Steven. I'll do you first."

Mark's idea of doing me was to stroke my penis until a drop of
precum appeared, then use his thumb to spread it around the head. I
gasped when he buried his face in my testicles and ran his nose and
then his tongue along the underside of my shaft. Bells went off in
my head when his lips grazed....

"Mark, let me in," someone shouted. "I forgot my key."

"Shit, it's my sister," Mark said as the doorbell kept ringing.
"Grab your clothes. Quick, Steven, into my room."  He turned to the
door, "Okay, Cindy, I'm coming.  Hold your horses."

Mark and I laughed about it a week later, but almost getting caught
naked together just wasn't very funny at the time.  Cindy gave me a
strange look when I came out of Mark's bedroom, but he assured me
that everything was cool.

"Can you come over tomorrow?" Mark asked on the way to the elevator.
"My dad usually goes out on Saturday. Cindy too.  We'll have the
house to ourselves."

"I'll have to ask my mom. Call me tonight."

I was like a robot during dinner and afterwards too, watching the
Yankee game on TV with my father, waiting for the phone to ring.
Roger Maris was up.  Two years ago he'd hit sixty one homers and
broke Babe Ruth's record.  The phone rang as Maris stepped out of
the box and grabbed his crotch.  Fixed himself the way ballplayers
do. Mitch Greer does that a lot too, in gym and on the basketball
court, when he's wearing his jock.

"Steven, telephone," mom sang out from the kitchen.

I bolted out of my seat.

"Mark Levine," mom said handing me the phone.  "He sounds like a
nice boy."

~~~~

Mr. Levine answered the door when I rang the bell a few minutes
before ten.  I was early, but not as early as I could have been.
Mark's telephone call had left me jumpy, filled with nervous
excitement...and aroused.  I hadn't slept a wink, tossing and
turning in bed, watching the clock and listening to the sounds of my
brothers asleep in their beds.  What would they say if they knew
that their baby brother was looking forward to spending the day
naked with another boy?
 
"You must be Steven Ryan, Mr. Levine said. "Come in, come in."

He led me to the couch and told me to have a seat.  Mr. Levine
looked at me closely through his thick, black framed glasses for
several moments. He was an older man, about fifty I guessed, tired
looking, with thinning brown hair.

"Mark will be back in ten minutes, Steven.  He and Cindy had to go
out unexpectedly.  Have you met Cindy?"

"Yes sir, yesterday," is what I said.  She came home just when your
son was about to lick my penis, is what I thought.

"Mark tells me that you two have become good friends."

"Uh, yes sir, Mr. Levine."

"You must be a special friend for Mark to stay home today and miss
the book signing at the Plaza Hotel.  He so enjoys meeting the
authors and mingling with the other guests. You'll have to come with
us sometime, if it's ok with your parents."

"I'd like that, sir."

"Mark loves the city. Museums, art galleries, the theater..., we
used to live in Manhattan, he grew up there.  Did he tell you?"

"No sir."

"We moved after he got um, sick and, oh you don't want to hear about
that."  Mark's dad turned and walked across the room. He began to
nervously arrange the books in the bookcase.  "I'm so glad you're
here, Steven, to visit with Mark. He doesn't have many friends since
we left Manhattan. What do you boys have planned for today?"

I was glad he was looking at his books and not at me because I could
feel the heat rise to my face.  Would he still be glad I was here if
he knew that his son and I planned to take off all our clothes, get
naked together, and finish what we started. At least I hoped Mark
wanted to finish what we started yesterday. "I don't know. Hang out
I guess."

Mr. Levine turned to face me as the front door opened. Mark, thank
god, came into the living room.

"I hope my dad didn't bug you too much," Mark said ushering me into
his room and closing the door.  His bed was unmade and the floor was
littered with clothes. Books and magazines were piled everywhere.
"My doctor called last night to change my appointment, so I had to
see him this morning."

"Your dad was ok," I said. "Are you sick?  You're dad started to say
something about you being sick a while ago."

"I'm fine. I've always been fine.  My parents thought I was sick in
the head, so they made me see a psychiatrist and I ended up in a
special school...to get cured.  They argued about me all the time.
I'm sure that's why they got divorced.  My mother accepted me the
way I was, Cindy too, but my father was convinced I could be cured.
He thinks I am.  The idiot shrink I saw this morning thinks I'm
cured too.  I just pretend to go along, do what they tell me, and
let them think whatever they want....and do whatever I want."

Mr. Levine knocked on the bedroom door to tell us he was leaving.

"I'll be right back," Mark said, that little smile of his creasing
his brow.  "Don't go away.  There's a magazine in an envelope under
the mattress.  I think you'll like it.  Get you in the mood, if you
know what I mean."

Mark closed the door behind him. I sat on his bed and looked at
myself in the mirror on the back of his bedroom door. I thought
about what Mark had just told me. Being sick and all and seeing a
shrink.  He said he was fine, he looked fine. He'd tell me more if
he wanted to.  I knelt on the floor to look under the mattress and
found the envelope Mark said was there.

If anybody had told me that such magazines existed I would have
laughed and called them a liar.  Women posed nude, showed their
boobs in magazines like Playboy which you could buy at almost any
news stand.  Men and Boys, the magazine in my hand, I never saw
anything like it in any store I was ever in.  Young men and boys,
posing for the camera wearing nothing except what sort off looked
like a jock strap which barely covered anything.

"I see you found my stash. Nice, huh? I got an even better one to
show you later."

I'm sure I turned white as a ghost.  Mark laughed and apologized for
startling me.  He crossed the room and sat down next to me on his
bed.  "Better than that National Geographic, right?"  I blushed and
nodded in agreement.

"This guy's my favorite," Mark said pointing to a picture of a young
man wearing nothing but a tiny piece of red cloth.  "I'd get on my
knees for him in a flash."

"Get on your knees?" I asked, perplexed. Not quite sure what he
meant.
™"Yeah, get on my knees, you know, go down on him, suck his cock. Bet
he's got a big dick underneath that posing strap."

Wow!  My head was spinning. I didn't hear the doorbell chiming.

"Must be Cindy, she always forgets her key.  C'mon, Steven, Sebbe
should be with her.  I want you to meet him."

I followed Mark to the front door, fixing my boner and thinking
about the magazine he so casually left lying open on his bed.

"Sebastian Stepanopoulos, say hello to my best friend, Steven Ryan.
Steven, this is Sebbe. Sebbe, Steven."  Mark made the introductions
while Cindy disappeared into her room.

Shaking my hand was the most beautiful person, male or female, I had
ever seen in my life.  Tall, at least six feet, curly black hair and
crystal clear blue eyes. Better looking than any movie star. He must
have thought I was an idiot, a complete fool, the way I was staring
at him. They only stayed for a minute, Cindy dragged him away to
some party in the city.  Mark closed and double locked the door
behind them.

"Alone at last," he said turning around and kissing me on the lips.
"What'd you think of Sebbe?"

"He's, he's, he's...." I stammered, reeling from the kiss.

"Gorgeous, huh? A greek god. A hunk. Is that what you wanted to
say?"

"Yeah."

"He's got a great body too, to go along with that face. You wanna
see him naked?"

I sat on the couch, dazed, while Mark went to his room. He returned
in a moment with a bunch of glossy magazines, put them on the coffee
table and proceeded to take off his clothes.

"I love being naked," Mark said as he sat down next to me on the
couch and kissed me again.  "I wish I had a body like yours, Steven,
or like Sebbe. Wait'll you see it...and his dick.  You'll cum in
your shorts."

It wouldn't have taken much.
 
"This one's his first professional modeling job, when he was still
in high school, in Greece," Mark said, pointing to a photo of Sebbe
in a tuxedo. "Some Italian designer."

"He's a model?  A fashion model?"

"Yup.  Paid for his first two years of college modeling clothes and
doing some other stuff. Now this next one's even better, but you
gotta let me take off your shoes and socks before I show it to you.
Okay?"

I guess I said okay because Mark untied my shoes and took them off.
Then he took off my socks, and then he, he, he....kissed my feet.
Little kisses, all over my toes.

"This was shot in Nice, that's in France," Mark explained. Doesn't
Sebbe look great in that bathing suit?"
™"That's a bathing suit! It's so tiny and you can see his ass. I
never saw a suit like that at the Y."

Mark laughed. "That's what guys wear in Europe. It's called a string
bikini.  You gotta have a great body to wear one, a body like yours,
Steven.  I'm gonna take off your shirt now. Okay?"

Mark knelt between my legs. One hand was undoing my shirt buttons.
His other hand was in my crotch, gently massaging my penis and
unbuckling my belt.  He pulled my shirt out of my pants and a moment
later my shirt was gone.  His mouth moved to my bare chest and he
licked my nipples, and his hand was on my zipper, and my penis was
hard, and, and, I felt so good, like I was going to cum and....I let
him take off my pants.

"Sebbe was making five hundred bucks a week as a fashion model,"
Mark said as he placed a different magazine in my lap, on top of my
penis. "Then he got offered ten thousand to pose for this magazine.
Take a look."
 
Sebbe was naked on the inside cover.  His penis was huge, hanging
softly between his legs.  Two other naked guys with boners were
kneeling at his feet.  The whole magazine, page after page of naked
pictures, Sebbe and his pals hugging, kissing, rubbing against each
other, holding each other.  Mark's head moved under the magazine,
his mouth against my penis, feeling me through my Fruit of the
Looms.

The next thing I knew I was on the floor with Mark. My shorts were
gone and I was naked. My penis was in his mouth and Mark's penis, a
drop of precum at the tip, was right in front of my face. I wanted
to, I really wanted to stick out my tongue and taste the shiny drop
of precum, lick it away, take him in my mouth, but I couldn't do it.
Instead, I bolted upright and scooted away.

"What's wrong?  Did I hurt you?"

"No. It's just that I...I never...can't..."

"Oh," Mark said.  "You never...this is your first time, isn't it?
Your first time fooling around with a guy?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry, Steven. I thought you were, um, you had done this
before. The way you reacted to that photo of the naked African boys,
I was sure..."

"No. Never." I looked around for my clothes and backpack. "Maybe I
should go."

"Don't go!"  Mark cried out in alarm. "Please stay.  You don't have
to do anything.  Not even touch me if you don't want to.  I'll do
everything....make you feel good. You liked it didn't you, when I
was sucking your cock?"

"Yeah," I said, feeling stupid.

"Well, I liked it too. Your cock in my mouth I mean."

We looked at each other without speaking. A million thoughts were
rushing through my mind. What to do? What to do?  Stay? Leave? I was
torn by indecision.  My boner was telling me one thing and my guilty
catholic conscious quite another. Mark broke the silence with a loud
sigh and that's when he told me.

"I'm a homo, Steven, a homosexual. There's a million names for boys
like me: queer, fag, faggot, cocksucker, fairy, dick licker, cum
jockey, fruit....."

"Fruit!!?" I blurted out. "My brother calls me a fruit, a fruit boy
actually."

"If you never.... Why?"

"Because I wear Fruit of the Loom underwear, same as you, that's
why.  I didn't know, I'm pretty sure my brother doesn't know, that
fruit is..., is another name for a, a, a, homosexual."

We both started to laugh, which broke the tension between us.  Mark
slid next to me, put his hand in my lap and slowly stroked me back
to erection.

"When did you, um, how did you find out you were....."

"It's ok, Steven, you can say it. A homosexual? Fag, queer, fruit,
cocksucker, whatever.  C'mon, Steven, say it. Go ahead, I don't
mind, call me a faggot cocksucker."

"Okay, yeah, a faggot cocksucker."  It sounded so wicked, faggot
cocksucker. Like Leslie Goldstein at boy scout camp. "When did you
find out that you were a cocksucker?"

"When I was seven," Mark said easily. "I sucked my first cock when
I was seven years old. Really, it's the truth. An older boy, Juan
Santiago, who lived in my building when I lived in the city.  He
taught me to play with his cock like it was a game, to see how big
and hard I could make it and to make him cum. We'd get undressed and
compare dicks...it was fun. Mine was tiny of course, no pubes, and
I couldn't cum, but it got hard when Juan stroked it."

Mark leaned over to lick away the precum that was bubbling out of my
penis before continuing his story.

"Other boys, Juan's friends from the neighborhood, joined the game
and soon I was jerking off five or six boys every day after school.
I'd meet them all in the basement and jerk them off into an old
pail.  Juan called it a cum bucket. During Christmas vacation Juan
asked me to use my mouth instead of my hands to make his cock big.
I didn't want to at first, and he didn't force me to do it.  After
thinking about it overnight...I changed my mind. The next day I took
Juan's cock in my mouth and, what can I say, I loved it. The smell,
the taste, the feel, the excitement of his dick getting hard in my
mouth, sliding between my lips... I, I can't explain it, Steven."

"Weren't you scared?"

"A little, sure.  Juan was gentle and patient, though. He let me
take my time, and he was a good teacher. In no time at all I was was
a pretty good cocksucker. Seven years old and I'd pass up ice cream
and candy to suck Juan's dick...his friends too."

"What about the semen, you know, the sperm?  What'd you do when he
shot off?"

Mark laughed and squeezed my penis. "Swallowed it. Juan came on my
face the first time I sucked him off. I tasted some and I liked it.
The next day I asked him, told him it was okay to cum in my mouth
and I've been hooked on cum ever since. Don't be shocked. Haven't
you ever tasted your own?"

"No, never."

"Not even one time?"

"No. No cum. Precum, but no cum."

"Precum is great stuff.  Do you like it?"

I had to admit it.  Mark was telling me his deepest secrets. How
could I lie.  "Yeah, I sort of like it.  Makes me feel tingly all
over."

"Cum's even better, and there's a lot more of it," Mark said as he
wet his thumb with spit and rubbed it around the head of my penis.
"You should try it."

"What's it like, the taste I mean," I said, shuddering from his
light touch.

A dreamy, far away look came into Mark's eyes. "Like nothing else in
the world, Steven, and everything in the world because those little
sperm cells are the center of the universe. Sweet, salty, sharp,
mellow, tangy...everybody's sperm has a slightly different taste.
Sometimes..."

Mark stopped talking and his eyes focused sharply on mine, like he
was looking for something deep inside me...inside my soul.

"Can I trust you?" He whispered so quietly that I wasn't sure if he
meant for me to hear the question or if was looking for a reply. I
kept my eyes on his and waited.

"Sometimes, if my mouth was tired after a five or six blow jobs and
I couldn't suck anymore...promise not laugh...think I'm nuts?"

"I promise."

"Juan and his pals would..."

"Would what? C'mom already, tell me, spit it out!"

"Very funny, Steven."

"What? What's funny?" I honestly didn't know what I'd said that was
funny.

"Juan and his pals, I would jerk them off into my mouth."

"Nooooo."

"Yup. Jerk'em off directly into my wide open mouth.  A lot got on my
face too. And I didn't spit it out!"

Good lord, I thought, the stuff this guy's done while I was worried
about burning in hell for masturbating in the shower.  God knows
what else I was going to get from this friendship.

While I was lost in thought, Mark reached over and took a cushion
from the couch. I shivered in anticipation as he nudged me on to my
back and knelt between my legs. His hands were on my inner thighs,
stroking, spreading my legs apart. I shook all over, moaned out loud
when he kissed my balls, licked them all over and underneath near my
ass and up the shaft to the head.  Our eyes met and locked...my
prick just barely between his wet lips.

"I'm not gonna let you cum, Steven.  Not yet anyway.  I want you to
remember your first blow job, and the guy who gave it to you, for
the rest of your life. Follow me."

I followed Mark back to his bedroom, reluctant to leave my clothes
behind in the living room; what if Cindy came home unexpectedly and
she didn't forget her key this time, but eager to feel Mark's tongue
on my balls again, my penis in his mouth. Crazed for my first blow
job.

"Put this on," Mark said, handing me a tiny piece of red fabric.
COCKSUCKER was boldly printed on it in black letters. "It's a posing
strap. Like the guys in the magazines wear. Sebbe sells'em in his
shop, other fun stuff too.  This one's my favorite. See, its even
got my name on it, cocksucker," he said with a laugh. "Let me help
you put it on."

Mark got on his knees, took my hardon in his mouth for a second, and
held the strap for me so I could step into it.  My legs were like
jelly. I put my hands on his shoulders to steady myself.

"Wow!  You look hot, Steven, just like a model. Take a look."

I did look like the guys in the magazine.  The posing strap barely
covered my crotch, made me look big, and every time my over excited
prick pulsed, the thin strip of fabric between my ass cheeks rubbed
against my hole.  "What are you doing?" I cried out as Mark pointed
a Polaroid camera at me and quickly took two pictures."

"Don't worry," he said. "We'll throw 'em away later.  "Take some of
me now.  Wait a sec. Let me get your cock in my mouth first. I want
to remember your first blow job too."

I took the camera as Mark pulled down the posing strap and put my
penis in his mouth.  I snapped a series of pictures until I could no
longer hold the camera steady. My whole body was shaking. Ten
thousand words can't described the feelings I was feeling as Mark
sucked me.  "Oh, god," I cried out. "That feels so good. Don't
stop...faster...do it faster."

I put my hands on his head to hold him steady while I thrust my hips
back and forth, driving my penis into his mouth. I had to get in
deeper, so close, closer. I felt it coming. I heard myself moan and
grunt and scream out... and I came. Semen blasted out of me as
nature took over and my body responded with the most intense cum I
could ever remember.

"So, how'd you like your first blow job, huh? Beats jerking off?"

Mark was still on his knees, teasing my sensitive penis with his
lips and tongue which made me shudder. "Wonderful," I managed to say
when I could breathe again. I had the after cumming feeling of
satisfaction, let down, and a little guilt, like I had done
something wrong.  It passed quickly as Mark's hands and mouth,
working silently, made me hard again.  Moments after the best cum I
ever had, I was hard again.

Mark pulled me down to the floor and stretched out on top of me.
Face to face, hardon to hardon. I had just cum a ton into his mouth,
I could smell it on his breath, but I couldn't see even one tiny bit
of the sticky stuff around his lips.  When he leaned in and parted
his lips to kiss me, I shuddered and turned my head away. He has
semen in his mouth, I thought.  My semen, but..."Please Mark," I
whispered, "Don't."

I felt like a shit. Jeez, the guy had just sucked my cock...SUCKED
MY COCK..., let me cum in his mouth, swallowed my spunk... and now
I wouldn't kiss him because I was afraid to get it in my mouth,
taste it. My own stuff.

"Hey, it's okay, Steven," Mark said as he put his hands on my face
and made me look at him.  "I understand.  Maybe you could do me a
little, you know, jerk me off," he said, sitting up astride me, so
that his ass was resting on my penis and his balls were resting on
my belly.  "C'mon, do me a little," he said again. "Help me get
off."

Reluctantly, I ran my finger along the smooth shaft of his boner and
then up to the tip where a shiny bead of precum had formed. I gotta
do this for him, I thought, I want to do this.  Do it, go ahead, do
it, jerk him off, do it, it won't kill you. The battle raged in my
head.

"Oh yeah, Steven, that's it, so good, jerk me."  Mark's breath came
in gasps as I wrapped my hand around his boner and began to stroke
it slowly, jerk him off.  Not so bad, I thought. I can do this for
him. I owe it to him.

"Oh yeah, oh yeah, that's it. Faster, faster. Yeah, yeah, ah, ahhh.
Almost there, allmmmosst there, ah, ahhhhh, cuuummmminnng."

I closed my eyes and turned my head as the first spurt of Mark's cum
shot out and landed on my neck. Other spurts landed on my chest and
belly, cum was running down my hand and Mark started to laugh.

"That was great, Steven, just great. Wait here, I'll get a towel to
clean you up."

I didn't dare move. Cum was dripping down my neck and the slightest
movement would upset the small pools of cum on my chest and belly,
sending them onto the carpet. Mark returned with a towel in one
hand, the camera in the other, and stood over me with that little
smile of his on his face.  "What a mess. There's cum all over you.
Great shot, say cheese."

He snapped off pictures, looked at them, and tossed them on his
dresser with the others. We sat on his bed, side by side, naked, and
talked.  I told Mark about my family and the frustrations of being
raised in a strict Catholic environment. Church every Sunday and
going to confession.

"No," I told him before he could ask, "I don't confess everything."

"Good thing I'm not Catholic,"  Mark said sarcastically. "The priest
would go ape shit to hear my story.  You know, Juan and his friends.
And if I had older brothers, shit, I'd be confessing every day. Ever
fool around with them, Steven, do stuff?"

I quickly put that idea out of Mark's head, but that's when I told
him about my experience at boy scout camp.

"Was the scout master naked too?" He wanted to know. "And the other
counselors?"

Mark was very visibly enjoying the story. I could have embellished
it a little, add to his enjoyment, but I stuck to the truth.

"No, just all the scouts. Bare assed naked through the woods, back
and forth to the lake twice a day.  I hated it."

I even told him about Leslie Goldstein, admitting that I was turned
on watching him suck Gary that first time. "That'd be terrible," I
said, "Getting caught with a cock in your mouth."

Mark laughed. "Yeah, I know. I got caught once with a prick in my
mouth and, well, it like changed my life.  My parents split up, got
divorced because of it. I got sent away. It was pretty bad for a
while."

"What happened?  Can you talk about it?"

"Juan Santiago.  Well, I'd been sucking him off, his friends too,
for like a year and then one day old Mrs. Kozlowski, lady who lived
in the building, came down to the basement for something and saw me
doing it, sucking Juan's cock.  There I was, Steven, on my knees,
happily sucking away when she came in.  Mrs. K started screaming,
Juan started cumming, and she ran off to tell my mother. Juan ran
off, the rat took my clothes, leaving me there with nothing but his
cum all over my face."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing I could do except wait for my mother.  She didn't make a
big deal about it, but my father, when he got home from work, went
beserk.  The two of them argued all night long and the next day I
saw my first shrink. I saw lots of doctors over the next months...
some of them crazier then I was supposed to be. You're not going to
believe this, but one wacko doctor got naked with me and together we
looked at pictures of naked boys."

"Get outta here! You're making that up."

"No, no, it's true, Steven, I swear.  In his Park Avenue office, my
father in the waiting room, we looked at pictures of naked boys and
masturbated into a glass.  I think he drank the stuff afterwards."

"That's disgusting."

"Yeah, well, to make a long story short, my mother went back to
California where she grew up to and I got sent to a school for
troubled boys."

"Wow.  All because you, you...."

"Got caught with a cock in my mouth.  My father was convinced I was
sick and could be cured at the special school.  The school was a
horror though, therapy sessions, shock treatments, mind numbing
drugs.  I thought about killing myself it was so terrible. After two
years I wised up and realized that the only way to get out of there
was to pretend I was straight."

Mark started laughing so hard that tears came into his eyes.

"What's so funny?"

"It was so easy," Mark said between giggles.  "During the day I
played the role of a straight boy and at night,"  Mark put his hand
on my penis, "at night I sucked off my roommate.  I was cured,
according to the stupid doctors.  My father was happy. I got to come
home so I was happy. Only my roommate was sad cause he lost his
cocksucker."

"But if you're still a homo, a cocksucker?"

"What's important is that the doctors and my father think I'm cured.
I know I'm a homo. Cindy pretty much knows it too. I just got to be
cool about it and not get caught.  If my father finds out, even
suspects that I'm still a homosexual, well, I'd kill myself before
going back to that school.  I really would."

"I'll never tell a sole," I said.  "You can trust me. I wouldn't
want you to kill yourself.  That's a sin."

We stroked each other silently, each with our own thoughts. I stared
at Mark's cock and the precum oozing from the tip.  He gently eased
me to my back and stretched out on top of me.  We held each other
tight, pressing and rubbing our pricks together. My mouth opened to
admit his tongue and I felt his body stiffen and he came.  Mark
shuddered and jerked as his warm semen spurted all over my belly.

We must have fallen asleep because when I opened my eyes the room
was in shadow.  Mark was laying on top of me, snoring softly.
"Mark," I said softly. "Wake up."  His eyes opened.  "I think its
late. I have to go home at four."

"It's only three o'clock," he said, yawning. "You got time. Anyway,
I think we're stuck."

Our bellies were kind of glued together with dried semen.

"C'mon, let's take a shower."

The shower stall was large enough for two, but not so large that our
naked bodies and erections didn't bump together as we stood under
the spray.  Mark soaped my body with his hands and I did the same to
him.  I even got on my knees, like he did, and washed his penis and
balls and let his boner rub along my face.

"You ever jerk off in the shower?"

"All the time."

"Not today you can't."

"Sure I can."

"Nope.  Today you get sucked off in the shower."

Mark dropped to his knees.  He held my penis out of the way and
buried his face in my balls.  I moaned out loud as he took one in
his mouth and rolled it around.  The pleasure was almost unbearable
and I started to shake and tremble. "Oh god, oh god.  Feels so so
good. Gonna cum any sec...ahhh, ahhhh, oh yeah. Suck it, Mark, my
cock. Please suck it."

Mark teased me with his lips until I couldn't take it anymore. I
grabbed his head and thrust myself into his mouth. He gagged, but
didn't back off as I pushed his head down...and came. I spurted hard
two, three, four times into his mouth, and collapsed slowly to the
shower floor.  My jelly like legs no longer able to support my body.
Mark climbed up my body until his penis was level with my mouth, the
head just barely grazing my lips. I closed my eyes and let him rub
his penis around my mouth, then press it firmly against my lips....

"I'm sorry, Mark, I just couldn't do it," I said as we dried off a
few minutes later.  "I felt like I was going to throw up."

"It's okay, Steven.  Don't worry about it.  You'll do it when the
time is right."

"Yeah, I guess."

I gathered up my clothes and dressed quickly while Mark spread out
the pictures we had taken earlier.  He wanted me to have one that I
had taken of him with my cock in his mouth and he wanted me to have
the posing strap too.  I took the strap and the photos of me wearing
it and the photos of me lying on the floor with cum glistening on my
body and shoved it all in the bottom of my backpack.  I left the one
of him blowing me on the table.

"Can you come over tomorrow?"  Mark asked as he unlocked the door.

"Yes," I said quickly, feeling a stirring in my Fruits. "Ah shit,
no, it's Sunday.  I gotta go to church and family dinner after. I'll
see you in school on Monday."

I had to stop and duck behind some bushes to fix myself on the way
home.  My penis was hard, tangled in my Fruits.  I put my hand in my
pants and moved it to lay up against my stomach.  I walked the rest
of the way home holding my backpack in front of the throbbing beast
between my legs.


Chapter 4

Father Peter's sermon was about the Garden of Eden, Adam and Eve and
original sin. Wedged in the pew between George and Terrence, I kept
nodding off and George kept poking me in the ribs. I'd spent a
sleepless night, tossing and turning, humping the mattress....
tiptoeing twice to the bathroom to jerk off. I tried to concentrate
on what Father Peter was saying, but all I could think about was
Mark, and what we had done yesterday, and what I wanted to do again.

With my prayer book strategically placed in my lap I imagined that
I was Adam in the Garden of Eden, naked, and Mark was there too. No
Eve, just me and Mark with giant erections and god is smiling down
on us as we lay together.

"Yeah, right.  That'll be the day,"  I mumbled to myself.

"What'd you say, Steven?"

"Uh, nothing Terrence, nothing.  Just thinking out loud."

The service concluded and I followed my family up the center aisle
to receive holy communion, the body of Christ. I knelt before Father
Peter. As he placed the wafer in my mouth he reminded me to meet him
later...after confession.

"We'll see you back at the house," Mom said to me. "After your
meeting with Father Peter.  Dinner's at four so try to be on time.
Oh, and don't forget to make a good confession."

I walked over to the confession booths thinking about what to say to
the old priest inside.  "Well you see, father, I got this friend
who's like a homosexual and I was over his house yesterday and we
sort of took off our clothes, see, and kind of looked at pictures in
a magazine, of naked men. Then my friend sort of used his mouth, you
know, between my legs, kind of, ah, took my penis in his mouth and
I sort of..."

I walked past the confessionals and hid out in the bathroom until
confession time was over. Like I was ever going to tell anyone that
Mark was a homo, that he had given me a blow job. Like I was ever
going to tell someone, admit that I liked it, that I was pretty sure
that I was a homo too. If I could overcome my reluctance, my fear
and my guilt, I wanted to suck Mark's cock.  Just thinking about it
made me hard and I would have jerked off if I wasn't in a church.

Father Peter's door was closed.  I was about to knock when I heard
voices from inside the office.  Not talking really, just muffled
sounds, that I couldn't quite identify. I sat down to wait. A few
minutes later the door opened and Father Peter came out, his his arm
around the shoulder of an altar boy wearing the ceremonial garments.

"That was very good, Tim, very good," Father Peter said to the red
faced boy who was looking down at his feet. "Keep up the good work
and your dear widowed mother will be so proud when I make you my
number one altar boy."  Father Peter looked surprised to see me
sitting there.  "Ah, Steven, I didn't see you.  Go inside. I'll be
just a moment."

Father Peter's office was dim. Heavy drapes covered the windows.
Only the desk lamp and a lamp by the couch provided any light. I sat
in one of the two chairs in front of his desk and looked around.
When the former priest, Father Francis Mulvaney, had this office it
was cluttered with all kinds of stuff.  Now it was tidy and neat,
like my mother's living room. Books and religious statues were
arranged on shelves, the desk top was bare. Dominating the room was
a large painting of Jesus Christ which hung above the couch.

Father Peter came in a few minutes later and sat behind his desk.
"Thanks for coming, Steven. I appreciate your volunteering to help
out with the cub scouts.  Your mother tells me you used to be a
scout, an altar boy too."

"Yes, Father, I was."

"Splendid.  So you know what scouts like to do... and you can help
me change my clothes.  The boys are waiting for me at the Y." 

Father Peter rose from his chair, walked across the room and locked
the door.  A priest's vestments are a mess of layers and tiny
buttons and hooks, impossible to do by yourself. I'd helped Father
Mulvaney dress and undress lots of times, so I knew what to do when
Father Peter opened the door to the closet where the vestments were
kept. I quickly unbuttoned, unhooked, unsnapped, unzippered and hung
each garment carefully in the closet.  Father Mulvaney had worn long
underwear beneath his robes. Father Peter wore baggy boxer shorts,
no undershirt, and he seemed perfectly at ease standing in front of
me in his underwear.

"Don't forget the shoes," he said as I turned away so as not to look
at his body.  "I think there's a knot in the laces."

I was a little uneasy being alone in the room with him dressed like
that, but the guy was a priest and catholic boys are raised to obey
their priests.  I knelt at his feet to work on his shoes.

"I hope you liked my sermon this morning, found it interesting.
Would you believe that some folks are embarrassed that Adam and Eve
were naked in the Garden of Eden?  What do you think, Steven?"

I looked up to answer his question...down again quickly.  Father
Peter's testicles were hanging down the baggy leg of his boxer
shorts. "I, I, I suppose it's okay," I said nervously to his shoe.
"If that's what god wanted."

"Nicely said, Steven, what god wanted.  God created man and if he
wanted him to wear clothes, well, he would have sent him a pair of
Levis."

We both laughed at his joke and continued to laugh as I unlaced his
shoes and got up from my knees. We were still laughing as he got
dressed in a pair of Levis and we left his office to meet his cub
scouts at the Y.

The cub scouts, a dozen eight year old boys were waiting for us in
the lobby.  Father Peter introduced me to the boys and then we
headed towards the lockers.

"Swimming today, Steven," Father Peter said. "I want to check out
their skills. You do know how to swim?  I never learned how so I'll
need you to work with the boys."

"Ah, sure I can swim...but I didn't bring a suit."

"Boys only in the pool this afternoon, you won't need one.  Take
this locker next to mine for your clothes."

Shit, I was trapped.  I started to take off my clothes, silently
praying that I wouldn't spring a boner like I often do when I get
undressed with people in the room. Father Peter was tieing the
drawstring of his baggy bathing suit before I even had my pants off.

"Hurry along, Steven, everybody is waiting."

Waiting and watching. A bunch of naked eight year cub scouts, one
forty something priest watched as I stripped off the rest of my
clothes and hung them in the locker.  I tried to keep my mind a
blank, my eyes off the naked young bodies in front of me, as I
followed the pack to the pool.  So far my prick was cooperating, a
little stiff maybe, but no full blown hardon.  If I could make it to
the pool, get into the cold water, I'd be fine.

"Boys, gather around,"  Father Peter said. "Say hello to my nephew,
Paul."

I looked up amid a chorus of "hello Pauls" and saw the face of a
young man holding on to the edge at the deep end of the pool.  He
dived and swam the length of the pool underwater, surfacing at the
shallow end. Water cascaded from his body as he hoisted himself out
of the pool.  The blood rushed to my head....I turned and fled.

"Paul is studying to become a priest," Father Peter announced. He's
also a champion swimmer, gold medal in the state finals in his last
year at college. Paul's going to work with you along with Steven
here.  Come forward please, Steven. Where is Steven? Steven?
Steven?"

I heard Father Peter calling as the bathroom door closed behind me
on squeaky hinges.  It took me a moment to catch my breath. My heart
was still pounding away. I kept seeing Father Peter's nephew, Paul,
rising out of the pool like a greek god. He was tall and thin. He
was dark and handsome. He was naked.  One look at Paul's wet body,
his big penis, and well, if I hadn't fled, my parish priest and a
bunch of cub scouts would have seen me with a boner.

I couldn't go back to the pool in this condition, not with a hardon
that wouldn't quit. I shuffled across the tiled floor, over to the
toilets and went into the last stall.  With the door closed and
locked I fisted my penis and began to jerk off.  This was going to
be a quick one. My breath was coming faster, my legs were shaking.
Couple more slides and I was going to cum.

I froze as the bathroom door squeaked open.

"Steven? You in here, Steven? It's me, Paul. Father Peter sent me to
look for you."

I sat on the toilet and grunted like I was taking a shit. "Yeah, I'm
in here. I had to go."  A pair of bare feet appeared under the door. 
A sliver of bare skin was visible through the crack in the door.

"You okay, buddy? Need anything?"

More than before, I needed to jerk off.  The thought of Paul, all
naked on the other side of an easily opened door.  Mark's words came
back to me, what he'd said the other day when we were looking at his
magazines. 'This guy's my favorite, I'd get on my knees for him in
a flash.'

Get on my knees for him. Suck his cock. That's exactly how I felt
right now about Paul. I put my free hand on the latch, prepared to
open the door to show Paul my erection then get down on my knees. I
slid the latch back a fraction then moved forward a bit on the
toilet seat and slid the latch back a fraction more. Do it, I told
myself, do it. You know you want to...so do it. I slid the latch
back all the way and started to open the door...just as the bare
feet turned away.

"Okay, buddy.  See you back at the pool when you're done in here,"
and Paul was gone. Gone, but not forgotten.  I sat back on the seat
and jerked off a humongous load. The first spurt hit me on the chin.
Two more wild spurts of cum hit my chest, a few dribbles and tugs on
my softening prick, and one great orgasm was over.  Then the guilt,
the after cum let down set in.

Idiot was the first thought that came to mind. What an idiot. The
guy's like almost a priest, his uncle's a priest.  Priests don't
think about sex, get erections...jerk off. Paul would have no idea,
would've been like totaly confused if I had opened the toilet door,
made a complete fool of myself in front of him. Get real numskull,
priests don't know about blow jobs.

I cleaned myself as best I could with toilet paper and left the
stall.  I washed my face and hands at the sink, thankful that I
hadn't done what I had thought of doing, and went to rejoin the
group at the pool.  Paul was in the pool with the cub scouts so,
with a quick wave to Father Peter, I jumped in. Paul waded over to
say hello and I felt a new stirring between my legs as he shook my
hand. I blushed. This was going to be a difficult afternoon.

I got through it though, without making a fool of myself.  The cool
water helped keep me in check until the cub scouts took turns to
swim between my legs.  Bare backs brushing along my bare balls, one
boy looked at me funny, but nobody else seemed to notice my semi
stiff penis. Thank god Paul called them all away to work with the
kickboards.  I settled down after a minute or two, but I'd had
enough and I really had to jerk off again before I got home. I
called out to Father Peter who was sitting poolside and told him I
had to go home now.  He waved me to come over.

I grabbed a towel from the poolside stack and wrapped it tightly
around my waist before I walked over to Father Peter.  He thanked me
for coming and told me that meetings would be held on the first
Tuesday of each month.  I took a last look back before leaving the
pool to watch Paul as he taught the boys how to dive.  Oh, yeah, I
thought, as my penisk hardened again under the towel at the sight of
his naked body surrounded by naked cub scouts.

I slipped into the last stall and hung my towel on the hook. Another
quick wank to take care of my hardon was definitely in order before
heading home to a house full of family. My mind wandered off into
the fantasy world of naked men and boys I created ever since I
started jacking off. Real life experiences like scout camp and the
locker room at school and Mark Levine, especially Mark Levine, and
today's events live in my fantasy world.  I was in the zone, close
to cumming, when the bathroom door noisily opened.

"We only got five minutes, Paul, while the boys are changing. Wait,
check the stalls first."

Uh, oh, Father Peter...Paul too.  I got my feet off the floor and
held my breath.

"Nobody's here, it's safe."

"Let's not take a chance. Come with me."

Silence. They couldn't have left without my hearing. I dared to look
out of my hiding place. Huh? The bathroom was empty. Time to get
my...

"That feels so good, Uncle Peter, so good."

I froze in place, then dared to step around the corner. They were in
a shower stall together, behind the curtain. Two towels and one
bathing suit lay on the floor.  Holy shit, Father Peter and Paul,
together...naked.

"Oh yeah, oh yeah. Ah, ahh, ahhh. Close, so close. I'm, I'm, ahhh,
ahhhh, mmmmmm, ahhhhhhhhhh."

What the...

"Sweet, Paul, sweet. Been a while, huh? Help me up please. The boys,
we better get back."

I could feel my heart thumping as I hurried back to my hiding place.

"How is your roommate at the seminary?  Making any progress?"

"Nice fellow, Uncle Peter, naive, but horny.  Masturbates in bed
every night when he thinks I'm asleep. In the shower too. I'm
working on him. What about you? Any new boys in the ah, youth
program yet?"

"Three altar boys have signed on, so to speak. Had one in my office
after mass this morning as a matter of fact. Good boy, mature for
his age, if you get my meaning.  Mother works, widowed or divorced,
no man at home, no older brothers either. Got my eye on a couple of
cub scouts too, boys with the same profile.  Start'em young, like I
did with you, Paul, bring them along slowly and well, after the
first...."

"We're ready to go, Father," echoed off the bathroom walls as the
door banged open. I waited, hardly daring to move for a long time,
until all was quiet.  When I thought it was safe, that everybody had
gone, I left the bathroom and hurried to my locker.  I threw on my
clothes and ran out of the Y, ran all the way home and ran up to my
room.  I didn't want to see or talk to anyone. I didn't want to
think about what I had heard and what it meant.

Chapter 5

On Thursday, November 21, 1963, Mark and I proudly handed in our
completed Kennedy project.  Larry, the third member of our team, had
dropped out, joined another group.  He made some excuse, but I think
he was embarrassed about the strip poker incident. The next day,
President John F. Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas, Texas and my
father was shot in New York City. They were buried on the very same
day. Kennedy in Arlington Cemetery, my father in a Queens cemetery
reserved for policemen killed in the line of duty. I hardly remember
the days and weeks following the tragic events which so shocked the
nation and the Ryan family.

We'd been reading O'Henry's Gift of the Magi in english, learning
about unselfish sacrifice and the ironic results that can sometimes
occur. O'Henry's story about a woman cutting off her long hair and
selling it to buy her husband a watch chain, and the husband selling
his watch to buy his wife a brush set stayed with me for some
reason. How ironic it was, I thought at the wake.  My father was so
proud of President Kennedy because they were both Irish catholics.
He had once given up a fishing trip with his friends so he could
work in the President's motorcade on a trip to New York. And they
died on the same day.

My mother was a changed person after my father died. She went to
mass every day, finding comfort only in the church. Terrence and
George completed high school early, graduated in December and joined
the army to escape the sadness in our house. I was too young for the
army and the church, well, I went to mass on Sundays, but I hadn't
forgotten what I'd overheard at the Y.  Father Peter tried to be
nice, talk to me, draw me out of my depression, but he only made it
worse.  I was depressed about my father's death, sure, and guilty
about the feelings I was having.

Every time I saw him in church or at the monthly cub scout meetings
or if he came to the house to talk with my mother...I got a boner.
I'd picture him and Paul, naked together in the shower, discussing
altar boys and cub scouts, boys in the so called youth program. Ha!
If you were looking, and I was, it was easy to identify the boys in
Father Peter's youth program. The altar boys, four of them now, who
went into his office and came out looking, well, different. Slightly
flushed, a little perspired. A shirt tail not quite tucked in all
the way. Shirt buttons misaligned or unbuttoned altogether. A snap
unsnapped, a zipper not zipped all the way up.

I don't think he had any cub scouts in the program yet, but he was
working on it all the time the cub scouts spent at the Y pool and
always during boys only swim time. I made sure to bring my bathing
suit, a baggy one, but the boys swam naked as Father Peter watched
with a contented look on his face.

It was so obvious to me what was on his mind when he took a boy
aside, talked to him with his arm around the boys shoulder or waist
in a fatherly way and "accidently" touch the boy's penis or brush
his crotch against the boy's backside.  The boys that didn't flinch
or over react to these accidents got talked to more frequently and
in more private places.  Father Peter's private boys, that's what I
called them, went with him willingly and stayed late after meetings
to help him clean up.

He never came on to me, though I caught him staring at my body often
enough.  He never touched me the way he touched the young scouts. I
don't know how I would have reacted if he had. Maybe I was too old
for him, not cute enough or because I wore a bathing suit. The boys
got erections from time to time, perfectly normal, and did nothing
to conceal their stiff little penises from one another and from
Father Peter and from me. That's why I didn't quit, stayed on to
help with the cub scouts. I was attracted to those innocent little
boys...same as Father Peter.  Tempting as it was I kept my hands to
myself though, because I had Mark.

The Kennedy project gave me the excuse to go to his house almost
every day after school and some weekends too.  My friends thought I
was nuts to work so hard on the project, give up stickball and
basketball and just hanging out. We didn't avoid each other during
the day, Mark and I, just tried not to be alone together.  It was
much safer to wait until school was over and meet at his house.

If he answered the door stark naked, Kennedy would have to wait
until Mark, the aggressor in our relationship, undressed me quickly
and blew me.  No, hi how are ya? No beating around the bush.  We
both knew what we wanted.

If Mark was dressed when he came to the door, that meant Cindy was
home or worse, thank god it only happened one time, his father. Mr.
Levine sat with us at the kitchen table, offering comments and
making suggestions, good ones I have to admit, while we worked on
the Kennedy project the entire afternoon. I'd pretty much stopped
jerking off, saving it, storing it up so I could really spurt off
into Mark's mouth. I jerked off at home that night, twice.

If Cindy was home she'd be on the phone or in her room, once with a
girl friend and once with Sebbe, doing her own thing.  Mark said she
was bi.  He had to explain what that meant. I guess I fooled myself
into believing that she didn't know what her brother and I were
doing behind the closed door of his bedroom.

And what were we doing besides listening to music to mask the sounds
of what else we were doing?  Mark was drawing me out, slowly, with
a great deal of patience, bringing out my homosexuality. He worked
every part of my body, with his hands and mouth and tongue until I
had the most powerful, gut wrenching, toe curling, orgasms. And
always in his mouth.  The only request he made of me, the only thing
Mark insisted that I do for him was ejaculate in his mouth.

"You taste so good, Steven," he'd say after licking me clean. "I
love it when you cum in my mouth."

In return I played with his penis and balls, jerked him off. I put
my mouth on it, not the head but the shaft, and used my tongue a bit
on his balls.  Hardly what you'd call fair considering how Mark
kissed and licked my nuts, and underneath too, close to my asshole,
rolled them around in his mouth; licked my prick, nibbled on the
head until his lips were shiny with precum; bobbed his head up and
down, making his mouth tight and going down all the way so that his
nose was pressed into my pubes.  All Mark wanted in return was for
me to cum in his mouth.  He was absolutely nuts for the stuff.
Milking and squeezing my penis for every drop and saying how good it
tasted as he licked it all up.

I liked playing with his body, his boner, getting him off and all.
I just couldn't take it, his penis, inside my mouth, let alone suck.
I did most everything else, but the thought of taking his penis, all
shiny with precum, inside my mouth made me gag.  We'd 69 with me on
top and I'd rub his wet penis all over my face, play with his balls,
get 'em wet with saliva.  Hearing him moan and sigh with my penis in
his mouth, watching his balls tighten, his legs shake, body tense up
close to cumming, were all turn ons for me.  I'd cum in his mouth
and Mark would cum all over my face and neck and in my hair...cum
would fly all over the place.

And then we'd laugh together and talk.  Not just about sex, but
about the meaning of life and who we were and why we were here.
Really deep stuff, philosophical, personal.  Mark was a whole lot
smarter than me, he got like 1580 on the PSAT, but modest about it.
Didn't boast or brag or try to put anyone down.  He pissed off some
people with his intelligence, guys like Mitch Greer, when he
wouldn't share his homework or let them cheat off his test paper.

Mark made me feel smart too...good about myself. He knew about all
kinds of things and, having lived in the city, had had experiences,
homosexual ones, yeah, but other stuff like meeting famous people,
celebrities, and going to grand openings. Things you read about in
the paper.

When my father died, the wake and the funeral, and the days after...
I don't think I could have gotten through it all without Mark.  He
was at my side day after day, stayed late into the night, as family
and friends came to the house to pay their respects. He literally
gave up his life to be with me in my time of need. The holidays,
Thanksgiving and Christmas, were dismal and depressing without my
father.  Mark gave up a long planned trip to Puerto Rico just to be
with me and I knew how much he was looking forward to going.  Gay
paradise he had called it when he told me about Puerto Rico in early
November. Hot white sand beaches and hot brown skinned beach boys is
how he described it.

On Christmas eve 1963, we had sex in my house for the first time.
George and Terrence were gone, off to basic training. Mom was going
to her sister's house for dinner and then to midnight mass...like we
always did when my father was alive. She wanted me to go with her,
but I refused.  God was dead.  If he wasn't dead then he was evil
and I wanted nothing to do with him.  God let my father be killed.
God let a man like Father Peter be a priest.

"I'm old enough to make my own decision and I am not going to
church, and that's final," I insisted. "Mark's gonna come over to
keep me company."

Mom let it go.  She didn't have the will or the strength to argue
with me anymore. I helped her load the car with presents and watched
from the icy front steps as she drove away. Mark was coming at
eight, I had time for a quick shower and a change of clothes.

I couldn't decide what to put on after my shower, so I decided on
nothing. Wear nothing, and greet Mark at the front door the way he
greeted me when nobody was home at his house. Naked. The idea
thrilled me and frightened me at the same time. I'd never ever gone
downstairs with no clothes on...like absolutely, positively, totally
naked. And then, noticing my backpack on the floor next to my bed,
I had an even better idea.

I was ready when the door bell rang.  "Who is it?" I said with
nervous excitement.

"It's me, Mark.  Open the door it's cold out here."

I opened the door, careful to stay behind it, out of sight in case
somebody was on the street, and closed it quickly behind Mark. He
took one look at me and a big smile spread across his face.  "Wow!
You look...I take it nobody's home?"

The horrified look that replaced the smile on his face was priceless
when I said. "Nah, my mom's in the kitchen. She'll be out to say
hello in a sec."  I tried to keep a straight face, but I lost it and
started to laugh.

"Good one, Steven, you had me going.  I thought...um, nah, forget
it, we're alone and you..you look good enough to eat. I didn't think
you'd keep it...cocksucker."

"Buried in the bottom of my backpack, the pictures too. The one's
you took when you gave me my first blow job, your cum all over me.
Remember?"

Mark had his coat and shirt off and was working on his pants. "I'll
never forget. Not in a million years."  The grin on his face as he
let his pants fall to his feet was no bigger than mine when I saw
that he was wearing a red posing strap...exactly like the one I was
wearing.  Well, not exactly the same.  My strap had COCKSUCKER
printed on it, Mark's strap had FAGGOT.

God we had fun that Christmas eve. Maybe the wine had something to
do with it, but I let loose that night. Prancing around the hall
like a gay boy...at least the way I imagined a gay boy would prance.
And posing in front of the mirror, Mark at my side, like the group
photos in Mark's porno magazines.

"Lets go to bed," Mark said with his hand around my waist, and mine
around his.  "Wait, look in the mirror, Steven."

I looked and laughed at our mirror reflected image. Mark and I, best
friends, naked except for the posing straps. TOGGAF REKCUSKCOC
stared back at us.

"Lets go upstairs and live up to our names, cocksucker," Mark said.

"You're on, faggot."

I can't honestly say that I lived up to my name that night. Close,
I wanted to...I think...but I didn't.  I couldn't get myself to take
Mark in my mouth...to suck his cock.  The time wasn't right for me
to become a cocksucker.


Chapter 6

"I can't thank you enough, Mr. Levine," my mom said for the tenth
time as we drove onto the Brooklyn Bridge.  Manhattan, the City;
excitement and adventure, lay just across the East River.

"Please, Mrs. Ryan, it's my pleasure...our pleasure, to have you and
Steven join us today.  Isn't that right son?"

In the back seat of the car Mark squeezed my leg again, above the
knee, and without taking his eyes off my crotch or his hand off
mythigh, said. "Yes, dad's right Mrs. Ryan, it's our pleasure."

"Mark and I have been going to ten o'clock mass at Saint Patrick's
on Easter Sunday for years, Mrs. Ryan. We used to live in the City,
you know.  We may be Jewish, but the service is so beautiful and
uplifting, educational.  I think people of different faiths should
come together more often. Don't you agree, Mrs. Ryan?"

"Don't know about your mom," Mark whispered in my ear, "I think
Jewish boys and Catholic boys should definitely cuuum together as
often as they can."

I had to look away from Mark, out the side window at the rapidly
approaching New York skyline, gleaming majestically in the morning
sun, or burst out laughing.  Mark had stayed over last night, with
my mom's permission of course, in my redecorated bedroom.  We'd
slept together completely naked in my new big bed and cum together
more than once during the night while my mother slept alone in her
room down the hall. Mark had sucked me off again this morning in a
lazy cocksucker sixty-nine. I ejaculated in his mouth, like I most
always do, Mark came on my face. Six months, almost seven, and I
still haven't had him in my mouth so technically speaking I was not
yet a cocksucker.

We talk about it, shit, we talk about everything.  Mark makes no
bones about that fact that he's a homosexual. Nobody at school knows
because if his father finds out...Mark is dead meat.  You can't tell
by looking at him. He's not flaming and gaping, doesn't swish
around, talk like a girl, or anything like that. He just likes guys.

It took me a long time to admit it, but, well, I was only fooling
myself, reluctant to face the facts. I liked guys too. Mark says
maybe I'm bi; if I ever get the courage to ask a girl out on a date
maybe I'll find out if he's right, and not to worry about it.  He
says not to worry about sucking his cock either, that when the time
and the place is right I'll do it.

We showered together too, while my mother fixed breakfast. Washed
each other, dried each other, laughed at each other's boners peeking
over the top of our Fruit of the Looms.  Mark was on his knees with
my boner in his mouth when my mother called out that breakfast was
ready. "Hurry up boys," she said. "We don't want to be late. Mr.
Levine is coming soon."

Mark stopped sucking for a second and raised his smiling eyes to
mine. I put my hands lightly on his head, he licked around the head
and...oh, god, that felt good.  I forgot about my mother waiting
breakfast for us.  She didn't exist. Nothing existed. Nothing
existed in this world except my hardon and cumming in Mark's wet,
sucking mouth and the out of body, out of mind, heavenly feelings
that captured my soul.

We came downstairs at 8:25 and sitting across from Mark at the
kitchen table, the two of us a picture of innocence, I had to keep
my head buried in the bowl of Corn Flakes. I couldn't look at Mark
without laughing because he was wearing a pair of my Fruit of the
Looms.  A size small, but he had no choice, because his had gotten
a little soiled and were safely hidden away in the bottom of my
backpack. We were ready when Mark's father came to drive us all to
church. The religious symbolism struck me, just popped into my head
from out of the blue, as father and son came together and exchanged
good mornings.
In the last thirty minutes the three of us had come. Levine the
father had come in his Chevy at 8:45. Levine the son had cum in his
Fruit of the Looms at 8:16. That left the third member of the
trilogy, the holy ghost, me. I had cum in a cocksucker's mouth at
8:15.

~~~~

"That was absolutely wonderful," Mom gushed to Mr. Levine, taking
his arm as we walked out of St. Patricks along Fifth Avenue.  Mark
and I followed behind our parents and a crazy thought popped into my
my head.

"Wouldn't it be a kick if they fell in love and got married? Look at
the two of them, chatting away, arm in arm, like lovebirds. I
haven't seen my mom so happy since...since my father died. Hey, you
know, if they got married, that would make us..."

"Brothers."  Mark pitched in, like he was reading my mind. "And you
know what else? If they got married we'd have to move into your
house, our apartment's way too small."

"That'd be okay, I guess. Hmmm, you'd have to share my bedroom,
Mark, and you know there's only one bed so you and me would have to
share the bed...sleep together every single night."

"Naked?"

"Of course."

"Hmmmm. Would I have to share your bathroom, take showers with you
too?  To save water, of course."

"Absolutely."

"Would I have to wash your back and some other, um, hard parts? Hard
parts to reach, I mean."

"I'm hard right now, Mark. How about you?"

"Like a rock, Steven, like a rock. And your underwear is killing
me."

"Serves you right, cumming in your Fruits the way you did."

"I wouldn't have cum in my underwear if a certain person would get
over his hangup and..."

"I know, Mark, I know. You don't have to say it. Soon, I promise.
Soon.  Lookit, your dad's waving at us."

"Call me at home when you're leaving the museum."

"I will, mom. Stop worrying."

"The boys will be fine Mrs. Ryan. Steven is right, there is no need
to worry."

"Thank you Mr. Levine," I said under my breath.  She'd been going on
and on.  Do this. Don't do that. Be careful. Don't talk to
strangers. You'd think I was spending the day in hell instead of New
York. Jeez, go already.

"Mark knows the City. He has been taking buses and subways since he
was a little boy.  Come now, here's the car. You and I are going to
the luncheon, Mrs. Ryan, and then to the gallery...and we are going
to enjoy ourselves."

"Oh, dear," mom sighed, like I was going god knows where instead of
the Museum of Natural History.  "I know they'll be fine, but it's
Steven's first time alone in the City."

"Can you believe my mother?" I said to Mark as the car disappeared
into the traffic on the busy Avenue. "I just hope she cools it when
I'm in high school next year. Hey, isn't the museum uptown?"  Mark
was leading me across Fifth Avenue, heading west, instead of north.

"We'll go there later if you want to. First I want to show you
something else."

We walked for another couple of blocks before Mark pointed to an
apartment building on the corner of Seventh Avenue and 52nd Street.
"I used to live in that building, Steven. C'mon, I'll show you where
I grew up and where I sucked my first cock."

"You are nuts, Mark, absolutely nuts." I don't know what I was
expecting, but the basement was dark and dingy. It smelled old, and
musty, rank, kind of like the locker room at school.

"Right here is the spot, no, wait...it's been a few years. Here,
yeah, this is it.  This is the spot."

"What spot," I said looking down at a dirty patch of concrete.

Mark laughed and said, "This is the very spot where I got on my
knees and took Juan Santiago's cock in my mouth for the first time."

Mark opened his pants and let them fall to his feet. "How about it,
Steven?  You want to make this the place where you suck your first
cock?  Have a guy cum in your mouth for the first time? Make this
the place you finally become a cocksucker?"

I thought about it seriously for a moment.  It'd be like following
in Mark's footsteps.

"Right here," I said, pointing to a spot on the floor.  Mark nodded.
I kicked off my shoes and took off my pants; the floor was filthy,
I had on my best clothes, and got on my knees in front of Mark. I
put my hands inside the waistband of the Fruits I had loaned him and
pulled them down to his knees. Do it, I told myself, do it. Make
this the place.

His penis was hard, leaking a little. I wrapped my hand around the
shaft and stroked it a few times, rubbed it around my mouth.  Mark
moaned softly. More precum oozed from the tip. Make this the place
I thought as I stuck out my tongue to lick the head and taste Mark's
juice for the first time.

"Put it in your mouth, Steven, suck it.  Suck my cock," Mark said
between gasps.

The sound of a footstep, maybe just the old building settling on
it's foundation, caused me to stop a hairsbreadth from closing my
lips around the head of Mark's prick. Shit, this was also the place,
maybe the very spot, where Mark got caught on his knees with Juan
Santiago's cock in his mouth.  I backed off a bit and looked around
and listened carefully. What if somebody came in?

Oh, god, no way did I want to get caught on my knees with a cock in
my mouth. Caught sucking cock! No, I thought, not now, not here.
This was definitely not the time, nor the place where I wanted to
become a cocksucker.

The first time I went down on Mark I wanted it to be special. Not a
hurry up blow job in some dingy basement that smelled like old sweat
socks.  A nice slow blow job in my room, after a shower maybe, so I
could lick drops of water off Mark's balls and bury my nose in his
damp pubic hair. I wanted to suck Mark's cock and swallow my first
load of Mark's cum at a time and in a place of my choosing. I wanted
to become a cocksucker at a time and in a place that would always be
special to me.

I shared my thoughts with Mark and I think he understood.  "What if
I'm not around?" He said once we were back on the street.

"Huh?"

"What if I'm not around when you decide the time and place is right
and you go down on some other guy."

"What?" I shouted. The old lady walking in front of us turned around
and stared at me like I was crazy. "I wouldn't, couldn't, how could
you...." Mark's laughter stopped me cold.

"Gotcha."

"Bastard," I said, punching Mark's arm for even joking that I would
get on my knees for anyone but him.

"Cocksucker."

"Faggot."