Date: Thu, 11 Nov 2004 18:29:30 +0000
From: Moore
Subject: When The Time Is Right - Part 2

WHEN THE TIME IS RIGHT
BY:  MOORE

PART 2

Chapter 7

By April of 1964, the country had recovered from the shock of John
F. Kennedy's assassination the past November...my mother and I from
the death of my father.  Lyndon Baines Johnson, LBJ, was in the
White House stirring things up on the civil rights front at home
and, sadly, in a far away place called Viet Nam.  Marijuana, weed or
pot as it was called, was growing in popularity outside of Greenwich
Village, where, according to Mark, the beatniks had been smoking it
for years. Heroin was something the colored people used up in
Harlem, although it was slowly making its way downtown too.

Robert F. Wagner was the Mayor of New York, since 1954, and the
Worlds Fair was open in Queens. Manhattan, the City, was vibrant and
alive.  The City had it all, something for everyone and everyone for
something. Business was booming...including business along the most
famous place in the world, Times Square and 42nd Street.

According to Mark, every day of the week hundreds of eager,
ambitious people arrived from all across the country, spilling out
of the Port Authority Terminal on 8th Avenue and onto the streets of
New York. Some came for jobs, to work, seeking to make their dreams
come true. Others came with no particular plan. Young people came
for excitement and for adventure, runaways, seeking to escape the
farms and hick towns, their dull lives back home.  Girls and boys;
young and naive, no place to live, little money in their pockets,
found their way...or were lead by others...to Times Square.

In the Spring of 1964, in response to public outcry, the City
completed its latest, well publicized campaign to clean up Times
Square.  The police made a few arrests, the mayor made a few
speeches, the public was appeased once again, and...like so many
times before...nothing changed.

I saw it for myself, the sleazier side of the world's oldest
profession thriving in the cheap hotels and rooming houses in and
around Times Square and 42nd Street. The hookers were back. White,
black, young, old, women and girls of all shapes and sizes sold
themselves to anyone who would have them.  The sidewalk hostesses,
as they were known, were back in business. The boys were back too.

I had done some research in the main branch of the public library
and discovered, to my amazement, that ancient civilizations, Greece
and Rome among them, celebrated the male form, the phallus, in their
art. And even more amazing, encouraged the sexual union of men and
young boys. In their homes and in the public baths and temples,
homosexuality, woven into the fabric of the culture, was openly
practiced by those at the highest levels of society.  Boy love was
considered to be an expression of pure love. Men of wealth, scholars
and statesmen, even men of god kept and had sex with young boys.

One dusty old book even contained the following passage:

"Beautiful young boys, gloriously naked and anointed with fragrant
oils, were a delight to the senses during the day and a source of
inner peace in their master's beds at night. For the less affluent
of the citizenry, enlightened governments provided legions of slave
boys, colored boys from the far corners of the empire.  Young slave
boys, bare beneath their short tunics were trained in the sexual
arts and served the population at large.  They offered their dark
young bodies willingly and unashamedly to all men who would have
them for their pleasure."

I was amazed.

Thousands of years later, Times Square also celebrated the nude male
form in somewhat less exalted art forms: pictures, posters, neon
lights, books and films. The pre AIDS culture that was Times Square
in 1964 had it's own public baths and temples, if you will: bars,
clubs, theaters, book stores, arcades and the like, houses of
worship to some, where every fantasy, every desire could, and often
did, become reality.

Yes, the men and the boys were back in business around Times Square
too. Especially the boys, teenagers and younger, available in large,
visible numbers to serve the needs of the men. The homosexual men,
queers and fags, who sought them out for their pleasure.

~~~~

"Where are you taking me now? The museum?" I asked Mark after
walking a couple of blocks.

"You ever been to Times Square, Steven?"

"No. I've only seen it on TV.  You know, New Years Eve, when the
ball drops. But I've never been there."

Mark took my hand in his hand and we started walking again. I felt
more than a little self conscious, holding hands with a boy out in
the open, on the street.  We try never touch each other in school,
give any sign that we're anything more than normal friends. Whatever
normal means.  Not that it hasn't been tempting at times, like after
a long weekend.

"The museum can wait, then. Times Square here we come."

My eyes nearly popped out of my head as walked along 42nd Street
towards 8th Avenue.  Movie theaters, dozens of them, all featuring
X and triple X movies.  And book stores and topless bars, and....
SEX!  Everywhere I looked, sex was on display, sex was for sale. It
was early, all the stores were closed, but it didn't matter.

ALL NUDE - ALL THE TIME

GAY BOYS OF PARIS

BLOW HARD CAFE

WOMEN IN LOVE

XXX PEEP SHOW.

The signs, the stores, the movie titles were enough to get me hard.
I never knew this world, this part of Manhattan existed.

"Welcome to the gay white way. What do you think, Steven? Amazing,
isn't it?  Look around.  Anything and everything you can think of,
stuff you can't imagine, goes on right here. Hey, this place is
open. You wanna coke?"

I shook my head yes, speechless. Mark handed me a can of coke, took
my hand again and we kept walking.

"This is it, Steven, what I wanted to show you, Sebbe's Emporium,"
Mark said as we approached the corner of 43rd Street and 9th Avenue.
"Sebbe said when the renovations are finished, it's going to be the
best.  He should be here soon so we can look around inside, take a
tour. Lookit, he even had brochures made up."

Mark busied himself with a brochure while I looked around. The store
front looked nice, all clean and new, unlike most of the other
stores and bars we had passed.  The windows were clean too, but they
were darkened so you couldn't see inside.  There weren't many people
out this early in the morning so my attention was caught by movement
across the street.

Huddled in a doorway, under a neon sign blinking XXX*ALL BOYS*XXX,
a small dark mass began to stir.  I thought it was a dog at first,
until it stood up, yawned and stretched. I looked away for a second,
thinking my eyes were playing tricks on me, and looked back.  No
trick, still there.  A boy, no older than me, rubbing the sleep out
of his eyes.  "Mmmmark," I stammered.

"Yeah," Mark said without looking up from the brochure he was
reading.

"There's a boy across the street."

"So?  What about it?"

"There's a boy across the street and he's, he's... he's not wearing
any clothes!  Not a stitch! He's completely naked!"  Mark shrugged
his shoulders like it was nothing. "Don't you think it's just a
little bit strange, in the middle of New York City, a naked boy on
the street?"

Mark slowly took his eyes away from the brochure.  He looked at me
with the smile I knew so well and said, "Not around here it isn't.
Where is this boy?"

Mark followed my finger as I pointed across the street. "It's only
Angel."

"Angel?  You know him!!?"

"Seen him around.  C'mon, Steven, I'll introduce you.  No, wait,
finish your coke first.  Maybe you can do him a favor."

I followed Mark across the street thinking what favor I could
possibly do for Angel.  I could give him the five dollars in my
pocket so he could maybe find a store open and buy a pair of shorts
or something. As we got closer, he didn't blush or appear to be
embarrassed or try to cover his body in any way.... he actually
smiled and looked happy to see us.  Angel stepped forward, out of
the shelter of the doorway, and then he did a crazy thing.  In the
middle of the sidewalk, in full view of anybody that happened to
walk by, Angel dropped to his knees in front of me, smiled brightly
and, in heavily accented english, asked if he could please suck my
cock.

"What did he just say?  Did I hear him right?"

"What do you think you heard, Steven?"

"I heard him ask, don't laugh at me now cause his english is pretty
bad, I'm probably wrong, but he asked to, um, to suck my cock." 


"You heard him right.  Smart kid our little Angel. When he got here
from Mexico a month ago he didn't speak a word of english.  You
gonna let him?"

"Let him what?"

"Suck your cock. That's what he wants."

"Are you nuts, Mark!?"  I shouted, and then looked around to see if
anyone else was on the street. "I'm not gonna let him.....not here
on the street....not anywhere."

"Sorry Angel, no cock for you,"  Mark said slowly.

The bright smile left Angel's face.  I couldn't believe it, the kid
was sad that I wouldn't let him suck me.  The smile returned to his
face though, when Mark tapped him on the head and said a few words
in spanish. "Where'd you learn spanish?" I asked, since we both took
french in school.

"Some from Juan Santiago and in Puerto Rico."

Angel was nodding his head up and down....his small penis growing
noticeably larger.

"What are you doing?" I said to Mark as he took my hand and dragged
me into the doorway.

"We're gonna piss on Angel."

"What!!!"

Look at him, Steven, see how happy he is...how hard his cock is.
I'll explain more later, but boys like Angel want to be used this
way. You'll be doing him a favor."

Angel did look happy kneeling on the sidewalk about a foot away from
the doorway where Mark and I were pretty much hidden from view.  Why
anybody in their right mind would want to be pissed on.... oh, what
the hell, I had to go to the bathroom anyway.

"Aim for his mouth," Mark instructed as we painted Angel's light
brown face with two streams of urine. "And his hair. Really soak his
hair so he can smell piss on himself all day. See how he's jerking
his cock?  Believe me, Steven, he wants this, we're doing him a
favor."

I felt embarrassed for Angel at first and then, well, powerful, in
control and...understanding. Like when Mark is on his knees with my
penis in his mouth...when I ejaculate in his mouth.  He wants to
blow me and I like watching him do it and the feeling of power it
gives me.  Suck my dick, cocksucker, are very powerful words. I
often feel the urge to get on my knees and blow him too, suck his
cock, let Mark cum in my mouth. Someday I'll do it. Someday when the
time is right I'll overcome my reluctance and finally become a
cocksucker.

Sure it's humiliating," Mark laughed, breaking my train of thought,
"but that's the point. Boys like Angel want to be humiliated...need
to be used."

We left Angel on his knees in a puddle of urine and crossed back to
the other side of the street to wait for Sebbe. There were people on
the street now, couples, mostly young men walking hand in hand. I
watched, amazed, as they walked around Angel without so much as a
glance. Like it was nothing unusual to find a naked boy kneeling on
the sidewalk.

"I wonder what's keeping Sebbe?" Mark said, looking at his watch.
"Not like him to be late. You getting hungry? I'm starved. C'mon,
there's a diner around the corner."

We took a booth in the back, away from the counter where an odd
assortment of people were drinking coffee.  I moved to slide in, but
Mark insisted I sit on the other side of the booth. The old lady who
took our order gave me the creeps. I cringed, Mark laughed, when she
complimented me on my clothes and said in a shrill voice that I was
the best dressed faggot in the joint and a cute cocksucker too.

"But, Mark, she called me a faggot and a cocksucker!"

"Don't take offense, Steven, she didn't say that to be mean. It's
just that down here, around the Deuce, teenage boys, well, it's just
assumed that every teenage boy is a faggot and cocksucker, and
available for a price. Straight guys head to the avenues and 42nd
because that's where the women are.  Guys looking to meet guys for
sex, men looking to pick up boys, come to the side streets, like
43rd and 44th, because this is where the boys are."

My head was spinning, reeling, not yet recovered from being called
a faggot cocksucker by a total stranger and, jeez, meeting guys for
sex, and..."How do you know all this?"

"I grew up not far from here, remember?  You're going to see things
today that'll knock your socks off. Let me explain a few things."

"You know the old saying, beggars can't be choosers? Well, it also
holds true for the boys who work down here."

"Work?  What do you mean, work?"

"Prostitution, Steven, whores. Did you think only women were whores?
Boys sell their bodies too. The boys who work here suck cock, and
other things, for money. Money, Steven, bucks. A buyer and a seller,
price and place for service or services."

"You make it sound like a business," I said flatly.

"That's what it is, Steven, a business.  The boy sex business."

"What about a boy like Angel?" I leaned across the table and lowered
my voice. "He didn't want money. He was actually begging to suck me
off and, and, jeez, I still can't believe it. We pissed on him,
Mark, pissed in his mouth. He drank our piss!"

"Angel's different, another kind of boy. One of the boys who suck
dick and take it up the ass, drink piss, and...other stuff, because
they need to be humiliated, want to be used by men. And not just
humiliated, Steven, but degraded, treated like a piece of shit....."
I saw a few heads lift up and turn towards our booth. "Shhhsh, keep
your voice down."

"Okay, okay. Those are the boys you'll see on the street naked. On
brightly lit 42nd Street and on 8th and 9th Avenues, the cops won't
allow it and they chase them away or arrest them. But on 43rd and
44th, closer to 9th Avenue, I mean, well, you saw Angel, these boys
are totally bare assed, birthday suit naked.  Maybe a cock ring or
a dog collar, a butt plug too if somebody shoved it up his ass and
it hasn't fallen out yet. If they got any clothes at all, I don't
know where they keep them."

Mark stopped talking as two Japanese men with cameras hanging from
their necks came into the diner followed by two small negro boys who
were quite clearly not their sons. They sat down in a booth
diagonally across from ours and opened their menus.  Mark nudged my
foot under the table and pointed his finger at the new arrivals.

"Married guys," he whispered. "See the wedding rings?  Wives are
probably back at the hotel. Got no place else to go so the boys
bring them here. Don't stare, but watch what happens.  You got the
best seat in the house."

Didn't take a minute before I saw a small brown hand drift off the
table and into the lap of the man sitting next to him.  The little
hand had no problem with the zipper, fished around inside the man's
pants for a bit and brought out a short, but very erect penis. The
hand slowly stroked up and down, massaging....and then the colored
boy's head went under the table and he guided the man's penis, all
of it, into his mouth and began to suck.

I couldn't help but stare as the negro boy bobbed his head, sucked
hard for a few minutes and then held still as the man grunted out
loud once and ejaculated into the colored boy's mouth.

The same thing was taking place on the other side of the table, only
this boy was under the table, between the man's legs, using his
mouth on the man's testicles and his hands on the man's penis. The
boy seemed to know when the man was ready because he pointed the
penis to his open mouth just as the man's body stiffened. I watched,
mesmerized, as sperm shot into the boy's mouth. Two big spurts of
cum, a third small one, then the boy took the head in his mouth and
sucked out whatever was left. Semen, all white and shiny against the
brown face, oozed from the corners of the boy's mouth and clung to
his chin.

"Some show, huh?" Mark said when the Japanese men left the diner
with the negro boys.  "Five dollar blow jobs. Going rate for a
quickie. Not bad money for ten minutes of work.  You going to eat
your fries...or cum in your shorts?"

I blushed and silently pushed my plate over to Mark. Why deny it, I
had a throbbing erection that was crying out for relief.

Chapter 8

"Hey, Mark, glad you and your boy friend could make it."

My ears perked up, I blushed, at 'boy friend.' What had Mark told
Sebbe about me?

"Hi, Sebbe. You remember my friend Steven, Steven Ryan?"

"Sure. I never forget a pretty face. Your place in Brooklyn, last
fall. Nice to see you again, Steven."

Sebastian Stepanopoulos, Sebbe, was even more beautiful than I
remembered and concealed under his clothes, as I well knew, was one
fantastic body. Sebbe clasped my hand in his and then, with his blue
eyes boring into mine, he put his other hand in my crotch, on top of
my penis, and squeezed.  I felt my face get hot, then hotter, as he
gently massaged my erection.

"Nice," Sebbe said. "First time, Steven?"

I was speechless. Nobody, except Mark, had ever touched me the way
Sebbe was touching me and I didn't want him to stop.  Mark saved me
the embarrassment of cumming in my pants by stepping between us and
breaking off the contact.

"Can't stop cruising, huh?  Give him a break, Sebbe. It's Steven's
first time to Times Square and he's like, a little stressed out."

"So I see."

Even I had to laugh along at the obvious stress behind my fly.

"Yeah, well, he saw a couple of boys at work in the diner on 9th
and..."

"The waitress called me a faggot cocksucker."  I don't know why I
said that, it just came out.

"...we met Angel."

Sebbe looked at me thoughtfully and said, "You've had a busy
morning. Are you?"

I shrugged my shoulders noncommittally.

"Undecided, huh?  On the fence, in the closet, not sure if you're
one of us," Sebbe tapped his chest and nodded over at Mark. He
touched my face, good god he was sexy. "Pretty sure though that you
are, but reluctant to admit it?"

"I guess."

"When you realize that you're one of us, Steven, that boys turn you
on, remember, don't think of yourself as a faggot or a queer. We are
homosexuals, not fags, and we prefer to be called gay. Gay men and
gay boys."

Me, Steven Ryan, gay. A gay boy.

"Don't be fooled or put off by what you see in my place and around
Times Square, Steven. This is a business, plain and simple, and it
has little to do with being gay. Men come here for sex. Sex with
women, sex with other men...and sex with boys.  Often times very
young boys. Tourists and businessmen, doctors and lawyers, teachers
and priests..."

"Priests," I blurted out, thinking of Father Peter.

Sebbe smiled and put his arm around my shoulder. "Yes, priests and
rabbis too, married men with families and single men, all come here
to satisfy their own needs and desires. The boys you saw in the
diner, what, a hand job under the table?"

"Blow job," I said meekly.

"Business, Steven, business. Cheap cocksuckers trying to make a
buck."

"What about a boy like Angel?" I asked. "He, um, we...Mark and
I...we pissed on him...in his mouth."

"Angel's into domination and humiliation, his own. He's looking for
someone who likes to dominate a boy, humiliate him and degrade him,
treat him like a slave. A master type to make him grovel and beg to
suck his cock or lick his balls. Am I shocking you?"

All I could do was nod my head.

"Good, because that's what I'm trying to do. Show you the dark side
of life on Times Square. Hang around here long enough and you'll see
boys chained up like dogs, begging for cock, begging to be pissed
on. Boys bent over a garbage can in a dark alley or the hood of a
parked car, or in the back room of a bar, pain and pleasure etched
on his face while somebody fucks the shit out of him."

"I had no idea such things existed.  Mark and I just sort of have
fun, make each other feel good."

"Fun can get ugly real quick for gay boys, Steven. Street gangs, out
for a night of gay bashing, cruise the area for gay boys. Black and
Latino gangs invariably pick out a white boy.  White gangs go after
the colored boys. Rich college boys, fraternity brothers; who can't
get to first base with their prudish saving it til I'm married girl
friends, are the worst.  They come into town in daddy's Cadillac,
pick up a gay boy working the street, and use him like a two buck
whore."

"Enough already," Mark said. "He gets the picture. Cocksuckers got
to be careful."

Mark and Sebbe's laughter swept away the dark cloud of doom that had
descended on me.  The stuff Sebbe described, that wasn't going to
happen to me or to Mark.  We were careful. Nobody knew I was gay, a
homosexual...I didn't know it myself. Not for sure, anyway.

"Okay, okay," Sebbe said, patting my behind.  "Mark, why don't you
give Steven a tour of the place. We open next week and I've got some
last minute calls to make."

We browsed through the collection of books and glossy magazines, and
I giggled over the various novelty items on display: Rubber cocks
and cock rings, little clamps and metal beads, hand cuffs and
collars, whips and vibrators, and tubes of stuff called Anal-Ease.
I got a hard on in the clothing section looking at the assortment of
colorful jock straps and matching Tshirts and leather vests and see
through underwear and posing straps; like the one Mark had given me
with Cocksucker printed on the pouch.

"What's through there?" I asked Mark, pointing to a door with a sign
that said, No One Under 18 Admitted. Can we go in?"

"Let me check with Sebbe first, see if the films are working."

Mark came back in a minute with a bag of tokens, like subway tokens,
and a smile on his face. "Come on, #10 is set up."

Through the door was a narrow hallway. The right hand wall was one
long mirror and on the left were booths with curtains instead of
doors. The last booth, #10, like all the others, was large enough
for two.

"You like home movies?" Mark asked, pointing to a TV screen set in
the wall with a row of buttons underneath.

"Sure," I replied.  "My dad had a movie camera. He used to take
movies of our birthday parties and trips to Coney Island and the
beach, stuff like that."

"These movies are a little different," Mark said, dropping a few
tokens in the slot.  "Beta Vision, from Japan, not in the stores
yet. Make a selection."

The screen and the buttons lit up. Titles appeared above each
button.

A: Blow Out My Candle
B: Picnic Lunch
C: Beach Boys
D: Take Me Out At The Ball Game
E: Subsucker
F: On The Road

We watched them all. They were only like five minutes long. Each one
began innocently enough. Blow Out My Candle, for example. Lit
candles on a cake with Happy 18th Birthday written on it and six
boys around the table singing happy birthday. The birthday boy
stands up as if to blow out the candles, but instead, he drops his
pants and says, 'Blow out my candle.' All the boys take a turn
sucking his erect penis, the last boy gets the load all over his
face. The movie ended with a shot of a icing dripping down the cake
and cum dripping down the boy's face.

Subsucker was different from the others. Darker and more serious.
There were only two boys in this one and one boy was clearly in
charge, watching as the other boy took off all his clothes and
tossed them aside.  The naked boy got on his knees and waited with
his hands behind his back while the other boy buckled a collar
around his neck and then unzipped and teased him with his penis. The
naked boy kept lunging forward, trying desperately to get it in his
mouth.  And that's how it ended.

I was so engrossed in the movies that I hardly noticed Mark was
opening my pants and pulling them down with my underwear until I
felt his hand on my penis. "Cool, huh," he said, when On The Road
ended with the hitchhiker on his knees gulping down the trucker's
cum. "Bet you never saw home movies like that before."

The movies and Mark's hand had me gasping for breath and seconds
away from blowing a load all over the TV screen. "I'm going to cum,"
I gasped. "I can't hold it."

"Wait," Mark said, scrambling to his knees.  "In my mouth, Steven,
cum in my mouth!"

He got it all, barely. What felt like the most intense orgasm...the
biggest load of sperm I ever had, shot off into Mark's mouth. Spurts
and squirts and dribbles of cum...I fell to my knees, to weak to
stand when it was over, but still aroused. I clawed at Mark's belt,
pushing him out of the booth and on to his back in the process. I
buried my face in his crotch while my hands struggled with his pants
and underwear.

"Hurry, Steven, hurry. My dick. Ahhhh, shit."

For the second time that day, Mark soaked a pair of Fruit of the
Looms with sperm.  I felt every pulse and spasm of his cloth covered
penis against my cheek with mixed emotions.  First I was sad that I
hadn't sucked him off, taken his load in my mouth. Then I was glad.
Then sad again. Then glad.  Then frustrated at my indecision. Mark,
like always, said it was no big deal as I helped him out of his
pants and Fruits.

But it was a big deal to me. I was well past the point of denying
that boys, naked boys turned me on. Mark turned me on. I must be a
homosexual, gay.  So why couldn't I get past my hang up over cock
sucking and suck my first dick?  Maybe if Mark wasn't so nice about
it, so understanding.  Maybe I needed him to make me suck his cock.
Push me down to my knees and make me suck him off...like the ball
player did to the batboy in Take Me Out At The Ball Game.

"You could lick it up," Mark kiddingly said, as I looked around for
something to use to wipe the semen from his body.  I finally used my
own Fruit of the Looms to clean my friend's penis and balls and
belly...which made us both hard and horny all over again.  We
quickly stripped off the rest of our clothes and lay down on the
floor, hugging and kissing and pressing our naked bodies together.

"Flip around on top of me, Steven. I want your dick in my mouth."

Mark sucked me nice and easy while I stroked his boner and played
with his tight balls.  The mirrored wall offered a perfect view as
I stroked the shaft, breathing in the musky smell between Mark's
legs and doing everything that Mark was doing to me. Everything,
that is, except actually sucking his penis.  I kept my mouth open
when I felt him tense up, prepared to let Mark spurt cum in my
mouth.  No sucking, just taking his sperm for the first time.

I would have done it too, probably, if Sebbe hadn't come in to see
what we were doing.  I saw him in the mirror, watching me, and I
turned my head away in shame as Mark cried out and ejaculated on the
side of my face. I rolled away, but there was no place to hide from
Sebbe's eyes.

"I hope the rest of my customers will be as enthusiastic as the two
of you, Sebbe said.  "I guess you liked the movies?"

"Sorry about the mess," I said as sperm dripped from my face onto
the floor.  "It's my fault. If you got a rag I'll clean...

"Don't bother about it, Steven.  I got a kid on staff who's got a
thing for dried cum.  Kim will take care of the floor when he comes
in later.  If you guys want to clean up, there's a bathroom on the
third floor.  Looks like you both could use clean underwear too.
Leave your dirty underwear for Kim, I've got some shorts you can
have."

Mark and I gathered up our clothes and followed Sebbe upstairs. We
had to pass through the main store area, past the plate glass window
which looked out on the street. "One way glass," Sebbe said. "You
can see out, but you can't see in."

Even so, it was weird walking by the window, like being on the
street with no clothes on, like Angel. I thought about my father,
dead almost five months, as I waved to a policeman on patrol and I
thought about Mitch Greer strutting around the locker room naked or
in his jock, showing off his great body and big hairy penis.

The third floor was like an apartment.  Living room and kitchen, two
small bedrooms and a big bathroom with a round whirlpool tub. Sebbe
stripped and joined us in the tub. God he was beautiful....and what
a penis.  Sebbe had to be eight inches, easy, maybe nine. And fat
too.  Long and fat and erect.  Mark and I played with it, stroked
him and felt his heavy balls until he made us stop.

"Got an appointment later,"  Sebbe explained, stepping out of the
tub and grabbing a towel. "A paying customer.  Man's a cum junkie
and he'll be very disappointed if I don't feed him a big load of
sperm.  Clean underwear's is in the bedroom dresser, boys.  Help
yourself to whatever kind you want and meet me downstairs in ten."

"What did Sebbe mean by a paying customer?" I asked Mark as we
looked through the assortment of colorful underwear. No white Fruit
of the Looms and nothing I'd ever seen shopping with my mom at
Sears.

"Men pay to suck his cock," Mark said offhandedly, slipping on a
pair of see-through boxer shorts.  "What do you think?"

"You're kidding, right?"

"Sebbe said we should help ourselves and I like the way these look."

"No, not the shorts, Mark. I mean you're kidding about men paying to
suck Sebbe's cock."

"He runs an escort service," Mark explained. "Men pay for his time.
Dinner, drinks, a show sometimes, and back to the guy's hotel for a
night of hot sex.  Middle aged men, Steven, rich men, closeted
homosexuals, in New York for business and a fun filled time with a
good looking young man like Sebbe. The kind of fun they're afraid to
engage in back home. Can't let the wife and kids find out the old
man is queer."

"How much?"

"A hundred."

"Dollars!!?  A hundred dollars!?"

"Sebbe charges a hundred dollars an hour. Five hundred for the
night. With your smooth body, Steven, your blond hair and blue eyes
and your cock...you could make a fortune as an escort."

My brothers got paid less than a hundred dollars a month in the
army. Cops made like a hundred a week.  Sebbe made, holy shit.
That's crazy, I thought, doing the math in my head. Who'd pay money
to take me out and have sex with me?

We had to finish dressing in a hurry when Sebbe called up and said
he had leave.  I chose the plainest underwear in the drawer, snug
fitting blue boxer shorts with tiny hearts around the waistband.
Sebbe in a suit and tie was on the phone when we came downstairs. 
The door to the video room was propped open. A Chinese boy was
inside, on his knees, wiping the floor with my Fruit of the Looms.
He looked up as we passed, smiled, and brought the sperm soaked
cotton to his face.

"Can you do me a favor and drop this package off at Boys Town on
46th?" Sebbe asked as he hung up the phone.  "Jules needs these
right away and I have to get to the Plaza by five. Oh, and get a
receipt."

We took the package of course and said our goodbyes.  I thanked
Sebbe for everything, accepting his kiss and his invitation to visit
again when the place opened for business in a week or two.

The streets were crowded now at four o'clock on a Sunday afternoon;
men and teenage boys, very few women.  Mark put his arm around my
waist, his hand on my hip, as we headed over to 46th street to make
our delivery. A move that would get you laughed at and possibly beat
up in our neighborhood.  But down here, all the couples were holding
hands or walking arm in arm.  Some were even kissing.  Down here
Mark and I were just two more gay boys.


Chapter 9

The Boys Town I knew was a movie staring Spencer Tracy about Father
Flannigan and the home he ran for orphaned boys.  The Boys Town on
46th had boys inside, but nobody was going to make a movie about
this Boys Town. Not one you'd see at your neighborhood movie
theater. We were just going to drop off the package and be on our
way.  I had to be home at six.

Jules, the owner,  was waiting just inside the dark entryway, a
large black dog at his feet. Coming in from the bright sun, I
couldn't see to well at first, but I heard the door close heavily
and lock behind us.

"How've you been, Mark?  Who's your cute friend?"  Jules said from
behind my back. His voice was deep, commanding.

Mark didn't answer until we had passed through a second heavy door
and then he said, "Fine, Jules, fine.  This is my pal from school,
Steven Ryan."

We were in some sort of club, I noticed as my eyes grew accustomed
to the dim light. Round tables and a round stage in the center of
the room.  I turned around when I felt a hand on my ass and got my
first good look at Jules.  He was a big man, dark and hairy, a
little frightening.  His dog, cowering in shadow under a table,
yelped when Jules jerked the thick leather leash and told the dog to
heel.  The big black animal uncurled slowly and crawled out from
under the table toward the pool of light at Jules' feet.

The light may have been dim, but the animal at the end of the leash
was definitely not a dog. It was a boy! A colored boy. "Sit," Jules
said, patting the kinky black hair on the boy's head.  The boy sat
like a dog would sit and licked Jules' hand like a dog would lick
its master's hand.

"Good dog,"  Jules said. "Rollover."

The boy rolled onto his back, legs in the air. Jules knelt down and
rubbed the boy's belly and penis and under his testicles. I didn't
know any colored boys, never saw one naked. There weren't any negro
families in my neighborhood.  This boy's skin was very black and
shiny. His penis was jet black too, except the head. The head was
lighter, almost pink.

"You like dogs, Steven?"  Jules said suddenly. "C'mon and pet him.
This one's well trained, he wont bite.  Sucks pretty good, but he
won't bite.  Want him to blow you?"

"What? Uh, no thanks.  We can't stay."

"We gotta go Jules," Mark said.  "Sebbe wants a receipt for the
package and then we got to take off."

"Yeah, sure.  See Frank in the dressing room.  He'll count 'em and
give you a receipt.  Come on Blackie, lets go in the office," Jules
said yanking on the colored boy's leash, "I got a big bone, nice and
hard, ready for you to gnaw on."

Mark shrugged his shoulders.  I started to laugh.  I laughed all the
way to the dressing room door, stopping only when I saw the young
boys inside in various states of undress. A few had skimpy shorts
on, others wore Boys Town T-shirts and nothing else. All the rest
were nude, completely naked in the crowded and overheated dressing
room. Mark was busy with Frank, counting the contents of Sebbe's
package. I kept myself busy examining other packages.

The Boys Town boys up close were older than they appeared at first
glance. Late teens rather than pre-teens.  The absence of body hair
and their small size, not one was more than five and half feet tall,
made them look like adolescents.  I could probably pass for ten or
eleven too, if I shaved off my pubic hair like they all did. The
buzz of conversation stopped for a moment when Frank called out,
"Doors open in a half hour ladies and you fairies better be ready.
Paul? Where's Paul Sweet?"

"Yeah, Frank?" Came a reply from the boy next to me.

"You're in the hole again today, Paul. And remember, if you can't
take ten, if I get one more complaint from a big dicked customer,
you're out on your faggot ass."

"Shit," Paul hissed under his breath. I jumped when he tapped me on
the shoulder. "How big are you?"

"Huh?"

"Your dick, man. How big is it?  I need ten inches to practice on."

"Practice what?"  I said like a jackass.  Boy, was I naive.

"Cocksucking...deep throat.  You heard Frank. The bastard's got it
in for me cause I wont go down on him or bend over and let him fuck
me. He's puttin' me in the hole again and I'm gonna lose my job over
one fuckin' inch.  So how big are you?"

"Six...and a half," I lied, looking at the monster hanging softly
between his legs.  He was shaved clean and shorter than me, which
made his big penis look even bigger.

"Soft?"

"No, hard."  Lying is a sin, but I wasn't about to tell this guy
that I had a five inch, well, almost a five inch hardon. "Sorry."

"I'm not like the rest of these fags, you know," Paul said,
following me as I backed away.  "They like workin' here. Not me. I'm
in school, Julliard, studying to be a professional dancer. Almost
got a part in Oklahoma, but the fag producer said I was too short
for the chorus line and my cock was too big. Can you believe that? 
Too big for his queer ass most likely. I heard that every chorus boy
has fucked him...some more than once. Whatdya think? Is my dick too
big?"

Paul had me cornered.  He took my hand and put it on his penis. I
looked around for Mark and saw him leaving with Frank. Leaving me
alone with Paul who was humping my hand in a room full of naked
strangers.

"Ten inches hard," Paul said with pride, not waiting for my opinion
on the size of his rapidly lengthening penis. "Not many guys, white
guys anyway, can boast of a ten inch cock. Wally's the only one at
Boys Town got me beat by a mere quarter inch. Rest of the guys got
seven, eight inch dicks. Normal size, you know. Easy to suck, you
know."

"Uh, huh."

"Frank has me workin' the hole again and man, I can do nine inches
pretty easy if it ain't too thick, swallow the jizz too, but if a
ten inch dick comes through the hole tonight, wants to go deep, I'm
gonna lose my job. Tell me honestly, one cocksucker to another, do
you think that's fair?"
  
Oddly enough I didn't feel threatened by Paul.  He thought I was
gay, a cocksucker, one of the boys, and it didn't bother me. I had
his huge penis in my hand and I felt comfortable actually, like I
belonged. I almost felt like taking off my clothes, getting naked,
and rubbing dicks with Paul the way Mark and I do it. "No," I said
sincerely, pretending to understand what he was talking about.
"Doesn't sound fair to me."  And then, out of curiosity, I had to
ask, "What makes you think I'm a cocksucker?"

"Your kidding, right? Pulling my leg instead of my dick?"

"Nooo," I said cautiously, afraid I was missing something.

"Lips."

"Lips?"

"Yeah, lips. Cocksucker lips...you got 'em.  Nice ones too. I'm
surprised no one's told you before, you know, one of the guys you
suck off.  How old are you, twelve, thirteen?"

"Fifteen," I said, slowly, checking out Paul's face to see if he was
joking, examining his lips. He had to be joking.  There's no such
thing as cocksucker lips...I hoped.

"You look younger. Where've you been working?"

"I don't work anywhere.  I'm in school, junior high."

"Hey, same as me. I mean that's when I started giving head too, end
of sixth grade actually. Tommy Wilburn and me, we traded blow jobs
in his barn, up in the hayloft.  Foolin' around, kid stuff. He
didn't like suckin' me at all, but damn all, I sure did like the way
his prick felt in my mouth and suckin' him.  Man, I used to run home
after school, get my chores done, then run to Tommy's place down the
road. Run into the barn, past his daddy in the corn field, his momma
in the kitchen; I could hardly wait to get Tommy's cock in my mouth.
You know how it is."

I didn't, of course, but what the hell.  "Uh, huh."

"Surprised the hell out of both of us, some weeks later, first time
he wet cummed in my mouth.  Little squirts of warm, creamy stuff. I
loved it, his delicious cum and how the taste stayed in my mouth for
hours. Tommy apologized like crazy, I almost had to beg him to do it
again, cum in my mouth again the next day.  Man, remember suckin'
your very first dick...and your very first taste of cum?  And the
first time jerkin' off with a guy's meat in your mouth! Shit, and
blowin' a load same time your mouth is fillin' up with cum?  What
great memories, something you never forget."

"Yeah, sure. It's great."

"You want some now?"

"Some what?"

"Cum.  You wanna blow me? Since I'm in the hole I won't be needing
my load for the customers so you can have it if you want. We're not
supposed to suck dick in the dressing room, but Frank's not here and
the other guys won't mind you going down on me so long as I cum in
your mouth and we don't make a mess on the floor. Can you handle a
big load?"

"Uh, thanks, but I had some this morning. I'm kind of full right
now. Maybe some other time."  Mark was going to piss in his pants
when I told him about this conversation.  I wished I had a tape
recorder.

"Man, I know that feeling.  How many'd you do?"

"Do?"

"How many guys you suck off this morning?"

What the hell. "Five."

"Must've been big loads.  I do twice that many blow jobs before I
get that full feeling.  Yeah, cum is great. Suckin' dick is great
for fags like you and me...like potato chips.  Know why?"

I shrugged my shoulders and tried not to laugh.

"Because we can't eat just one.  Get it?  Can't eat just one? One
potato chip, one cock?  One load of cum?"

This guy is nuts, I thought, absolutely nuts.  And where was Mark?

"Double headers, I called it when I started blowing Kenny Zanuk,
another boy in our school, and Tommy, one after the another. What a
year that was. It was kind of embarrassing the first few times, you
know what I mean, sucking dick with another boy watching. But two
warm cocks, two loads of warm cum, what more could a cum lovin'
cocksucker want?"

In jest I said, "Three cocks?  Three loads of cum?"

"Right on, man! Whoever said cocksuckers aren't smart. Kenny's year
older brother Lenny was cock number three.  Caught us in the barn
Lenny did, never heard him come in.  Caught me with his brother's
dick in my mouth. You ever get caught on your knees with a dick in
your mouth?  Shit, why am I asking you such a dumb question? Course
you have.  We all have at one time or another. How'd it work out for
you?"

Can't get caught doing something you don't do, so I wasn't lying
when I said, "Nope, I've never been caught with a dick in my mouth."

Paul gave me one of those sideways looks, the kind my mother gives
me when she doesn't believe a word I just said, and kept right on
talking.

"Looks like you're having fun.  That's what Lenny said. Man, I
nearly choked on Kenny's dick. Lenny just laughed and told me to
keep on sucking while he watched. When I heard his zipper go down,
don't you love that sound, I knew everything would be okay. Lenny
took a turn in my mouth after Kenny shot his wad and nothing bad
happened to me. Gave him my best blow job, licked his balls, sucked
'em...the works. Lenny gave me a big load of his thick, salty cream.

Lenny was a horny dude. It was his idea not to wait until we got
home each day, but to do him and Tommy and Kenny in the boys
bathroom in school and suck them off again after school. Six blow
jobs a day. Six loads of delicious cum. It was my idea to do all the
boys on our junior high school basketball team.  You like gang
bangs?"

"Who, me?"

"I love 'em.  It was my idea and Lenny set it up.  Got the team to
hang around in the locker room after practice. I snuck in when the
coach went into his office and gave all the boys blow jobs.  I did
Lenny first, show them what cocksucking was all about, then did the
rest of 'em in like thirty minutes.  My knees hurt bad afterwards,
but all those warm stiff pricks in my mouth, all that warm creamy
boy juice....you been to heaven yet?"

"Heaven?" I said, looking up to the ceiling for a moment. "But I'm
not dead."

"Fag heaven."

"Uh, no. Is it around here?"

"No, no.  Fag heaven's not a place, it's a, a...a state of mind. I
guess you ain't been there yet.  You do any drugs?"

"No!"  I said quickly.  "I don't do drugs."

"Me neither.  Well, I used to, but not anymore cause I don't want
shit that can kill you in my body.  Drugs'll take you there, you
know. Not fag heaven, that's reserved for fags like you and me, but
that mind expanding state that makes you feel so good, so mellow, so
spaced out...not a care in the world; like you can walk on water and
fly like a bird, see things nobody else can see. Booze'll take you
there too, but you'll feel like shit after, all hungover in the
morning."

He's high on something or totally weird, I thought. Fag heaven!

"Nope. Smart boys, fags like you and me, we don't need drugs or
booze to get high. We're the lucky ones...we can get high on cock.
And nobody ever died from suckin' dick or overdosed on too much
cum."

"High on cock?"

"Wait'll you get there."

"Where?"

"Heaven, of course.  Fag heaven.  High on cock. You never know when
it'll happen, or where you'll be...whose dick or how many dicks, how
many blow jobs it'll take to get you there. I got there the first
time, unexpectedly, at a high school dance."

"How? What happened?" I asked as a drop of precum emerged under my
thumb.  Paul sucked in a breath when I smoothed it around the head
of his penis and squeezed the shaft, pumped it up and down a few
times.

"Nothing unusual or different," Paul said as I rhythmically stroked
his penis.  "That's why it was so unexpected.  Once the dance began,
I set up shop in my usual place; a grassy spot right behind the gym,
reserved for me, the school cocksucker...hey, why'd you stop? Hand
getting tired, or did you change your mind about blowing me?"

"Ah, no, sorry," I mumbled, resuming the hand job. "Got distracted
by something you said."

"What?"

"School cocksucker.  Did everybody know you were...gay?"

"Gay!  Who've you been talkin' to?" Paul said with a laugh. "Man, I
love that word, gay...sounds so classy. Way too classy for me. I'm
not gay...I'm queer...a fag.  And sure, everybody in high school
knew it, the girls too. Just about every guy used me for head."

The expression on Paul's face faded from a smile to one of pain. He
turned his head away as tears welled up in his eyes. I gave him my
hanky and asked if he was okay.

"It was different in junior high," he said, dabbing at his eyes. I
sucked some cock, sure, but we were just farm boys in a small town,
friends, and it was all in fun.  The high school was big, like a
thousand students from six counties, an hour from home by bus. Not
much to do on a long bus ride with nothing to look at except corn
fields, so to pass the time mind you, I blew my friends in the back
of the bus.

Everything was cool until Tommy Wilburn missed the bus one day and
his father drove him to school.  Tommy missed his morning blow job
so I agreed to meet him in the locker room during lunch.  Right when
he started to cum, from out of nowhere a deep voice called out,
'Having fun, cocksucker?'  Second time getting caught with a dick in
my mouth...first time being called a cocksucker."

"Who was it?"

"A senior, captain of the football team."

"What did you do?"

"Sucked him off,"  Paul replied.  "Big cock and hairy."

"Why?"

Paul shrugged.  "Why not?  He opened his pants, stuck his big fat
hairy dick in my face, so I gave him a blow job and swallowed his
load when he blasted off in my mouth. I thought that would be the
end of it."

"It wasn't?"

"Nope. Next day he came over to me at lunch, all nice and friendly.
A senior, captain of the football team talking to a lowly freshman
caused quite a stir in the cafeteria. He asked me to join him and
his friends out on the field to toss a football around...man, I
thought I was so cool.

We didn't go to the field, though, but to a weight room off the gym
where his friends, four other big guys were waiting. 'Get on your
knees, cocksucker' my new friend said. 'We're gonna play some ball
in your mouth.'  They weren't very friendly, pushing me down and
threatening to hurt me if I didn't cooperate. So I got on my knees
and gave them all blow jobs...finished in time for my next class.
Hardly gave it a thought until I got on the bus to go home. That's
when Tommy told me that it was all over the school."

"What was?"

"That I was a homosexual.  Tommy was right and I had a pretty rough
time of it for a while.  The laughter that followed me down the hall
and the whispers behind my back; queer, fag, fairy, cocksucker, dick
licker...you know what I mean. We may be fags, but we got feelings
like anybody else. The girls..."

"The girls knew too?" I said.  What about the teachers?"

"Yeah, the girls too. They gushed all over me with questions about
make up and clothes.  Like because I was a fag I would know about
those things. Not the teachers though, I don't think, except the gym
teacher who watched me suck dick in the showers after class and
service all the boys on his football and basketball teams.  Big
macho type, I did him once a week, privately, in his office.  The
first grown man I ever sucked and the first to make me...."

"New costumes ladies."  Frank was back, and Mark. "Come and get'em,
girls.  One size'll fit all you faggots."

"Gotta go, cocksucker," Paul said as left to join the mass of naked
bodies grouping around Frank.  "Keep suckin' and you'll get to fag
heaven before you know it."

Mark took his place at my side, I took a close look at his lips.

"Sorry I took so long.  You okay?"

"Yeah, fine.  I was talking, well, listening to one of the boys." I
started to laugh.  "You won't believe what he...is that what was in
Sebbe's package?"  The boys were stepping into leather jock straps
and buckling dog collars around their necks. "What is this place,
Mark?  What goes on out front?  And what is the hole?"

Half the tables were occupied as the boys filed out of the dressing
room and onto the stage.  Paul disappeared behind a door marked
Employees Only.  We couldn't stay long...my mother was expecting me
home. Long enough though, to watch the dancing boys work up a sweat
and collect dollar bills tucked into their jocks.  Long enough to
watch Paul suck two cocks on closed circuit TV.

I got home a little after six, surprised to find the house dark. My
mother wasn't home yet.  An hour later I heard a car stop in front
of the house.  Mr. Levine came around to help my mother out of the
car and escort her to our front door.  Mark had coached me on the
subway ride home so I was well prepared for her questions about my
day.

I felt guilty lying to my mother, going on about the dinosaurs at
the museum and what a good time I'd had with Mark. She'd had a good
time too with Mr. Levine, the best since my father died.  We were
both getting on with our lives.