Date: Mon, 22 Nov 2004 16:08:11 +0000
From: Moore
Subject: When The Time Is Right - Part 7

WHEN THE TIME IS RIGHT
BY:  MOORE

Chapter 27

"Man you're a great cocksucker, Steven."

"Yeah, I know. A great cocksucker, that's what everybody says."

Everybody including Sebbe, I thought, absently slurping up a tasty
bead of precum from the cock in front of my face, and his was the
only opinion that counted.

"You about ready to cum, stud? I've got a class in forty minutes and
there's two more guys in the hall waiting for head."

"Oh my god, yes! I'm just about there. Is it okay if...okay if I
ejaculate in your mouth, Steven?  My girlfriend back in Tulsa tried
it once and now she won't suck my dick anymore, let alone swallow my
cum."

Straight college guys from out of town, especially the first timers
are so considerate of us fags. Like the stud thrusting madly between
my lips, about to unload the contents of his balls into my willing
mouth.  He had no idea that the great blow job that he was getting
for free sold for $500, a $1,000 if I spent the night, when I was
entertaining a client.

"Yeah, sure, cum in my mouth," I said, then swallowed his six inch
beauty and sucked hard to get him off.

Stud.  That's what I call the guys in my dorm at Columbia University
and their friends who use me, the resident fag, for blow jobs and
the occasional fuck. Most of the time I don't even know their names,
just their hard cocks and hairy balls, and the delicious creamy
sperm they happily pump into my mouth and ass.

Why do I do it for free now that I'm a part-time paid whore? Two
reasons. One, I'm a fag.  I like to suck dick, a lot of dick and
have a lot guys cum in my mouth. I like to get fucked as often as
possible. Two, I'm looking for that special someone, a guy my age to
fill the void Mark's death left in my life.  Three long years of
searching though, and I still hadn't found a guy to love.

Sebbe convinced me to apply to Columbia after Mark died.  "The
tuition is expensive," he warned, "but your high profile clients
will be more comfortable if you attend an Ivy League school."

Sebbe had started me off in his escort business with easy dates and
low profile clients.  Well to do white men from out of town, queers
to be sure, but no man with a recognizable name or a famous face
that was likely to appear on the cover of Time or Life or Screenplay
magazine. The minor leagues for male whores, if you will, until I
proved that I was ready for the majors.

I prepared carefully for each date. Once a week I had a manicure and
a pedicure, a haircut and neatly trimmed my pubic hair.  I wore
Brooks Brothers suits, conservative dress all the way, except for
thong underwear or G-strings which delighted my clients and left no
doubt that the clean cut young man disrobing in his hotel room was
truly a fag.

I looked much younger than eighteen which initially got me past
hotel security and wary desk clerks on the lookout for prostitutes`
of either sex.  A couple of twenty dollar bills in the right palms,
often a quick blow job for the night manager was necessary after my
face and the purpose of my frequent visits became known at all the
better hotels in the city.  Three visits to the Waldorf Astoria
Hotel in one week, asking the desk clerk for a different uncle each
time...maybe in Peoria boys, but not in New York City.

The low profile clients were generally a tame and predictable bunch
of queers. Middle aged married men, pillars of their communities, in
New York for business and a little discrete fun with a willing
partner who just happened to have a cock and balls instead of a cunt
and breasts. I'd get naked as soon as the Do Not Disturb sign was
out and the door was locked, then kneel submissively at his feet to
await his desires.

The bolder queers often took me out on the town after using me,
using my mouth and ass and cock for his sexual pleasure. Drinks,
dinner and then on to one of the many private clubs I knew where
middle aged queers brought their boy toys to play.  Secure in his
anonymity, my client could relax and enjoy a gay experience that he
would remember for the rest of his life.

The more challenging and interesting clients were the queers with
fantasies they wanted to make come true. Master and sex slave was by
far the most common fantasy and I never knew which role I was going
to play.  Naughty boy to be punished was popular, as was the young
and reluctant first timer.  The "I don't want to be a faggot, please
don't make me suck cock, please don't cum in my mouth" fantasy; that
was my personal favorite. Fetishes involving semen and urine,
condoms and various sex toys turned many a relatively dull; shower,
suck and fuck evenings into a homosexual's dream date.

After three years at Columbia, three years as a professional whore
and six years since I had sucked my first cock, Sebbe finally agreed
that at twenty one years of age the time was right. I was ready for
the big time.  The time was also right to fall in love.

Chapter 28

New York City's luxurious Plaza Hotel on Fifth Avenue was buzzing
with activity at eight o'clock on a Saturday evening in the early
Spring of 1971.  Two hundred of the countries wealthiest, most
powerful people; businessmen, politicians, heirs to great fortunes,
a number of celebrities from stage and screen, mingled easily
together, champagne glasses in manicured hands. The guest of honor
at this annual black tie charity ball was due to arrive at nine.

My date, a United States Senator with presidential aspirations and
a ten inch cock, was upstairs in his suite meeting with his chief of
staff.  He had fucked me silly all afternoon, made phone calls to
constituents while I quietly sucked his cock so he could fuck me
again between calls.

At curbside, a blond young man in a well tailored Armani tuxedo
stepped out of a gleaming, navy blue, stretch limousine and strode
confidently past the liveried doorman. It was Jason Howard, my
friend and lover, the man I planned to spend the rest of my life
with. Heads turned in his wake, conversations paused in mid-sentence,
mouths hung agape, as the tuxedoed men and gowned women
watched him pass through their midst towards the front desk.

Jason smiled inwardly...only the tiniest trace of the smile appeared
on his flawless, lightly tanned face.  He knew without seeing what
was taking place behind his back, the effect he had on people, men`
and women alike, and it still amazed him and me too.  The life he
was leading still amazed him as well, but he was not so foolish to
forget that not so very long ago, on New York's Eighth Avenue where
he honed his skills, rather than Fifth, things had been less posh.
And in the Canadian mining town, where he had been born twenty two
years ago, things had been very different indeed.

He stopped to check the time on his recently acquired wafer thin
platinum watch, shifting his lizard skin briefcase to his left hand
to do so.  The watch and the case, both outrageously expensive, had
been given to him by an appreciative Greek shipping magnate after a
two week Baltic cruise on the Greek's two hundred foot yacht. The
Greek had begged him to stay longer, but he didn't want to wear out
his welcome, among other things, and he had tonight's important
engagement slotted on his busy calendar.

"Good evening, Miss, Jason Howard to see the Ambassador," he said to
the attractive desk clerk as I walked over to give his ass a quick
love pat and lingered nearby to watch her reaction.  His cultivated
manner and rich voice suggested years spent at a fine New England
prep school, Harvard and perhaps a year at the London School of
Economics.  No one would have suspected that he'd actually had
little formal education.

"I have an eight thirty appointment," Jason said.

The desk clerk, in her early twenties, was shivering slightly and
unable to speak...only stare, trance-like, into Jason's sensuous
blue eyes. "Miss," he said a bit louder, concerned no doubt that
he'd be late for his appointment.  He leaned over the counter, as
did I, and we chuckled when we saw what she was doing.

Jason Howard, by any measure, was an extraordinarily good looking
young man.  His flawless face and body had been turning heads since
he was a child in Canada.  His winning smile and charismatic
personality endeared him to all he met.  The culture and easy
sophistication came later, taught by the two French men he lived
with after he left Canada and came to New York.

Jason possessed another rather unique quality, over which he had
little control, that randomly affected some people regardless of age
or gender. He had an undefinable magnetism, a captivating aura, that
caused an irresistible sexual attraction to him and a compulsive
desire to act on their attraction in unpredictable and, often times,
embarrassing ways.

The desk clerk had caught the Bug as Jason called it.  Behind the
counter we saw that she had hiked up her skirt and had pushed a hand
into her panties.  Jason checked his watch and listened to her
breathing.  "I've got time," he said to me. "Let her masturbate,
enjoy her orgasm, I'll still be on time for my meeting with the
Ambassador."

At least the young woman was mostly hidden from view. Others who
caught the Bug weren't always so fortunate.

The new part-time towel boy at the health club where Jason and I
worked out three time a week would have lost his after school job if
Jason hadn't spoken to the owner and the other club members.  The
boy had been discovered kneeling in front of Jason's locker, jerking
off with Jason's soiled jock strap stuffed in his mouth. "Give the
kid a break," Jason pleaded on the boy's behalf, feeling somewhat
responsible. "I have a dozen jock straps."

After the incident, Jason let the boy sit under his bench in the
steam room and catch drops of his sweat as they dripped from his
body.  The other club members, at Jason's urging, took pity on the
boy and allowed him to masturbate so long as he cleaned up after
himself.  The boy claimed he wasn't gay, that he didn't know what
came over him.  Gay or not when he started working at the club, the
boy began handing out blow jobs, along with the towels, on the days
that Jason came to the club.

Jason didn't like to talk about his childhood. "The future, Steven,
you and me and our love. That's what's important."

I learned all about his past though, from his benefactors Henri and
Francoise and their sister Marie.  They told me his story and his
family history and things that took place long before either of us
was born. They had diaries and documents that revealed a sinister
plot that had it succeeded, the world today would be a very
different place.

Chapter 29

Jason's father, Clyde, was the son of Freda and Garth Horonczaki,
immigrants who spoke little English, had a most unusual childhood.
The family lived frugally in three tiny rooms behind a small, and
barely profitable, grocery store in the poorest part of town. Clyde
slept in a makeshift crib on the floor of the single bedroom,
swaddled by his mother, old world style, in the pink blanket that
Freda used when she was a baby. Everything she did during Clyde's
early years was old world style and fraught with old world fears and
superstitions.

Freda dressed Clyde in long dresses, like boys wore in the old
country, but long past the age when boys in the old country started
wearing pants.  She let his golden curls grow long, refusing to cut
his hair until the evil spirits that might still harm her only child
had departed.  "I'll know when the evil spirits are gone," she'd
reply when her husband timidly asked when that might be. "Maybe when
Claudia's eight or nine."

That's what Freda called him, Claudia or Claudie, never Clyde.  She
had wanted a girl and that's what she was going to have.  A baby
girl to pamper and primp with ribbons and bows...never mind that her
baby was born with male genitalia.

Garth Horonczaki was a meek, soft spoken, little man; five feet
tall, one hundred and ten pounds, fearful of everything and
everyone.  He was afraid of his domineering wife, to be sure, even
afraid of the customers who came into his store.  Although he could
ill afford it, Garth generously extended credit to needy families
who would otherwise go hungry and accepted whatever small amounts
they could pay, whenever they could pay.  He also gave credit,
knowing he would rarely collect the money, to the burly men who came
in for beer and cigarettes because he was frightened of them. Garth
cowered, trembled in fear when neighborhood teenage boys came in,
and pretended not to notice when they took whatever they wanted.

Freda rarely worked in the grocery store, preferring to spend her
time reading poetry and drinking coffee with friends.  Garth was
left to mind the store and the baby, all swaddled in the pink
blanket. He cringed silently, afraid to say anything, when people
remarked on what a beautiful baby girl he had.  Almost overnight it
seemed, Clyde went from infant to toddler to little boy.

On his sixth birthday, Freda relented for once and allowed other`
children to come to the house.  She arranged a party for Clyde,
inviting the girls and boys from his kindergarten class to the house
for cake and ice cream. With his long blond hair and pink party
outfit, Clyde looked like one of the girls and he shied away like
they did when the rambunctious boys started running around and
acting like, well, acting like boys.  He didn't know how to act like
a boy, do boy things. Rough play frightened him. Isolated from other
children as he was, Clyde only knew how to do the things that his
mother taught him.

Freda no longer clothed him like a girl in long dresses, if you
didn't count the nightgown he wore to bed as a dress.  Her Claudie
wore frilly nylon panties and camisoles though, and peed sitting
down to avoid messing the toilet bowl.  He liked to play dress up
with Freda's clothes and squealed with delight when she let him use
her lipstick and mascara, and dab a little perfume behind his ears.
His favorite toys were a tea set and a Barbie doll.

Garth finally put his foot down, albeit very lightly, when Clyde
turned seven and started first grade.  Customers still mistook him
for a girl sometimes and it pained Garth terribly when the teenage
boys teased and taunted his effeminate son when they came into the
store to help themselves to candy and soft drinks.  Clyde was
unmoved by the teasing, only looked up sweetly at the older boys,
happy for any attention, clutched his pink baby blanket more tightly
and vigorously sucked his thumb. Garth was concerned, though,
worried what would happen to his long haired son with the older boys
at school. Freda agreed to trim Clyde's golden curls which, after
she was done, still fell almost to his shoulders.

Clyde Horonczaki on his best day was a poor student in the
classroom. He wasn't retarded, just slow. He was a good natured,
simple minded boy.  No spark, no excitement, no light shone in his
dull flat eyes. Simple minded and trusting and easily manipulated.
The teachers liked him well enough all through grade school because
he did his work, sat quietly in class and blindly did, without
question, whatever he was told to do.  Like his father, Clyde was
meek and timid, and avoided confrontations. Clyde was the patsy who
tagged along with the group and always got left holding the bag,
always got the short end of the stick.

He got by in the classroom, but poor Clyde was a dismal failure in
gym and on the athletic field.  Years of playing at home quietly
with dolls and make up and tea sets instead running around outside
and playing with balls and bats and guns, like other boys...he ran
like a girl, threw like a girl...he hated to get sweaty.  When he
entered Junior High School, Garth encouraged him to make a fresh
start, play with the boys in his class, do what they did, join in
their games. Clyde promised he would try.

Junior High School, the awkward teenage years when hormones run
amuck and sweet little flat chested girls start maturing into women
and sweet little boys start maturing into...sex crazed animals.
Clyde discovered his penis later than most boys and had his first
erection on a Friday night, shortly after his thirteenth birthday.
Garth was in the store working late. Freda was in the kitchen
washing the supper dishes.  Clyde was in the bedroom getting ready
for bed.  His bed, a mattress on the floor in the same small bedroom
where his parents slept, still held a small square of the pink
blanket from when he was a baby.  Clyde couldn't fall asleep without
his pink blankie and his Barbie and his thumb in his mouth.

Clyde undressed quickly, it was almost bedtime. He'd be punished if
he wasn't in bed by eight o'clock.  He neatly folded his school`
clothes and put them away in the drawer between his socks and his
panties, just the way Freda trained him to do it. Clyde reached for
his pink nightgown, the one with the tiny rosebuds, and stopped to
examine his panty clad body in the mirror. He was a lot shorter than
the other boys, skinnier too, and the yellow panties he wore...the
same ones he wore on the first day of seventh grade, felt a little
tight. Clyde couldn't understand why the boys laughed so hard that
first day of school when he took off his pants to put on his gym
shorts.  The boys didn't laugh so much any more, just teased him and
called him a sissy, except when he wore the pink panties that were
so worn and thin that you could see right through them to his pee
pee.

Clyde listened closely, he could hear his mother talking on the
phone.  One touch, he thought, one little touch.  He turned his back
to the door, just in case...he wasn't allowed to touch himself
there, but it felt so nice, and put his hand inside his panties
right on his prick. That's what he'd heard the boys in his class
call theirs, a prick. Not a pee pee like his mother said, but a
prick or a dick.  One eighth grade boy in the school yard called his
a cock.

Clyde pushed down his panties and bent over to look at his cock, he
liked that name the best, and wondered if his was the same as other
boys' cocks.  Shit, he muttered under his breath, another new word
he'd picked up in the school yard, when he heard Freda hang up the
phone.  He pulled up his panties and quickly slid his nightgown on
over his head to hide the slightly bigger than usual bulge in his
panties.

Clyde was brushing his hair, one hundred strokes every night, when
Freda came into the bedroom to tuck him in.  "I bought a new shade
of red lipstick, Claudie," she said, arranging the Barbie doll on
his pillow. "You can try it tomorrow, sweetheart, with the blue
dress and my new rhinestone earrings."

"Thank you, mommy," Clyde said, fingering his blankie.

"That's a good girl. Open up and take it in your mouth now
sweetheart. That's right, suck it baby, suck," Freda whispered in
his ear as she guided Clyde's thumb to his lips and he opened his
mouth to let it in. "Suck it good, baby, make nice and suck it
good."

Clyde closed his eyes and sucked his thumb, slurping on it noisily.
He'd been a thumb sucker from the day he was born and he showed no
signs of giving it up.  He liked playing with it in his mouth and
the way it felt sliding between his lips. Slowly at first, then
faster, the way the piston went back and forth on the toy train on
his favorite cartoon show, and slow again; bobbing his head up and
down when it got all wet and juicy. Tonight, while he sucked his
thumb, Clyde's other hand snaked under the cover to feel between his
legs. His penis was stirring as he sucked, moving around, and
pressing against his panties.  He hiked the nightgown above his
waist and pushed his panties down to his knees, raising his ass to
do so.  Clyde got the biggest surprise of his life, nearly choking
on the pool of saliva accumulated in his mouth, when his penis
stiffened and went thump against his belly, once, and then
again...and again.

Clyde quickly rolled over to his belly to stop the thumping noise
which sounded so loud that he feared that Freda would hear it and
come rushing into the room.  The thumping stopped alright, but now
his stiff penis was throbbing, pulsing too, as it pressed against`
the mattress.  Still sucking his thumb, Clyde put his other hand
between the mattress and his penis, cupping his testicles, and began
to move his hips in an up and down circular motion. He squealed in
delight at the wonderful sensations and then held still, retrieved
his panties and put them on, when he heard his mother's footsteps
approaching the bedroom door.

Freda, thinking she had heard Clyde call out in his sleep, peeked
into the bedroom and smiled when she heard him sucking away on his
thumb with his little tush up in the air.  What she didn't see was
Clyde's trembling hand wrapped around his very erect penis and his
thumb planted deep into his mouth as he only pretended to be asleep.
Freda decided to read in bed for a while which brought an
unsatisfying end to Clyde's masturbatory explorations.

Hours later, with Garth and Freda snoring peacefully in their bed,
Clyde shuddered in his sleep as though an electrical charge had
coursed through his body. A big smile spread across his face moments
before his eyes sprung open and he was suddenly awake. A dream, he
thought, reaching for his blankie and putting his thumb into his
mouth, only a dream.  He tried to recall what the dream was about,
but all he could remember was being outside and taking off all his
clothes.  He felt his nightgown bunched round his waist and his
panties, so it had to be a dream...oh, oh, he thought, touching his
soaking wet panties.

Clyde was confused because the mattress wasn't wet like all the
other times he had urinated in his sleep.  Only his panties were wet
inside, sticky too, and the smell was different. He lay there,
afraid to move, and that's how Freda found him on Saturday morning.

"It's not pee momma, it's something else," Clyde sobbed.

Freda well knew what it was.  She'd been expecting it to happen.
"Naughty Claudie," she scolded.  "What did I tell you about playing
with your pee pee?"

"I didn't play with my pee pee, momma. It happened while I was
sleeping."

"Take off that nightgown," Freda ordered, "and give me those
panties."  She stood over him as Clyde obediently stripped naked,
handed over his panties and lay back on his bed.  "Don't you move
now," she warned, arranging the soiled panties over his face so that
wet, sticky spot, was directly on his nose.  The nylon panties had
contained Clyde's nocturnal emission in a semi-liquid pool rather
than absorbing the semen the way cotton underwear would have. "Let
this be a lesson," she said as she left the room.

Clyde lay perfectly still, arms at his side, and tried to breathe
normally.  Instead of being repulsed, as Freda always had been and
thought he would be too, Clyde rather liked the strange new smell.
He didn't know what it was, only that it had come from inside his
body and out from his cock. He liked the taste of it too, and the
way it felt on his tongue, when drops of the stuff, warmed by his
breath, dripped into his mouth.

Clyde had pretty much the same dream, every night of the week for
the next two years.  He looked forward to them.  Sometimes he'd
remember people being in the dream; boys, never girls, watching him
get undressed and run around naked.  He didn't wait in bed, afraid
to move, like the first time...wait for his mother to find him and
punish him. Now when he had the dream and woke up in the middle of
the night with his thumb in his mouth and his panties filled with`
creamy stuff... he ate it.  Dipped his wrinkled thumb into the
slippery pool and sucked it off. Thanks to a ten minute lecture from
a very uncomfortable gym teacher, he knew that it was called sperm
or semen and that it came from his testicles and that babies somehow
got made from it.  Clyde also knew that semen tasted very good when
he sucked it off his thumb.

Nobody told him he shouldn't or couldn't or that it was a naughty
thing to do or that it was bad for him, like too much candy. Nobody
told him anything about it, certainly not his parents or the girls
he played with and, simple as he was, he didn't think to ask.  An
hour or two in the company of other fourteen year old boys might
have changed his mind, would have filled the huge gaps in Clyde's
sex education, but he rarely spent time with boys because they
played too rough and his mother wouldn't allow it.

Freda watched him like a hawk, monitoring and controlling his every
activity, when he wasn't at school.  She couldn't change the fact
that her Claudie had a revolting penis instead of a beautiful vagina
and that mother nature was changing her baby.  She could, however,
and she did, take every possible step to prevent him from doing that
filthy, disgusting, vile thing that teenage boys did whenever they
could. Masturbate.  The word alone made her shudder.

The very next day after Freda caught him with semen in his panties,
she sewed bells on Clyde's mattress so she would hear him if he
tried to do it at night. She had Garth remove the lock from the
bathroom door so she could check on him if he was in there more than
a few minutes. She watched him in his bath so she could move his
hand away at the slightest hint of arousal, appalled when he showed
signs of pubic hair.  She had him take off pants when he came home
from school and kept an eye on his panty covered crotch for the tell
tale bulge, sending him to take a cold shower when she saw it. He
did get erections during the day when he sucked his thumb and, if he
was feeling naughty, he would show it to Freda, make it bounce
playfully in her face, before rushing off to take a cold shower.
Clyde didn't need to masturbate, he had his wet dreams and his thumb
and his semen to keep him happy.

Freda thought she had things well in hand, a well trained wimp for
a husband and an obedient fifteen year old son that she had raised
like a daughter. A boy with long hair, who wore panties and played
with dolls. What she didn't count on was testosterone and several
bored, sexually inquisitive and frustrated boys in Clyde's ninth
grade class.

"Study your play books, memorize them.  You can't win on the field
if you haven't prepared in the classroom.  Until five, okay? Lock
the door when you leave. Okay?  Hey, I said okay?"

Five grumpy boys, Mike, Tom, Peter, John and Walt, nodded their
heads and opened their books, which they promptly closed once the
coach was gone.

"This sucks. I joined the team to play ball, not to study plays, do
more schoolwork."  The others quickly agreed, expressing their views
about the coach in school-yard language that turned the air blue.

Tom, the eldest and unofficial leader of the group, closed the door
and locked the handle. "Just in case he comes back."

The complaining came to an abrupt halt and all eyes turned to the
window when Walt called out, "Would you take a look at the tits on
Gloria!  I wouldn't mind studying, boning up on those jugs for an`
hour or two, if you know what I mean."

The ninth grade girls, and Clyde, were playing field hockey.  He had
tried every boys' sport and they were all too rough for him. The
boys played too rough. Field hockey with the girls was the best he
could do.

"I know what you mean," Peter said, grabbing his crotch to prove his
point.  "I heard she jerked off a high school guy in the boys
bathroom. Man, I'd let her play with my prick..., I'm so horny I'd
even let one of you faggots jerk me off."

"That's sick, Peter, really sick."

"Nah, we've all seen Peter's cock...what there is of it.  How would
a fag find it to play with?"

"Hey, Mike?  Would you let a guy, a fag I mean, touch you, play with
your dick?"

"No way, man. I'm not a homo."

"I don't know about that.  Hey, Tom, you've been around. What do you
think?"

Tom's dad was a retired Colonel. Tom had lived on army bases all
over the world and his friends relished the stories he told about
his experiences in foreign countries.  It was one of the reasons
they looked to him as their leader.

"Well," Tom began, glancing out to the field where Clyde was trying
to keep up with the girls.  "When we were stationed in Manila, my
brother and a couple of his friends took me with them to a whore
house.  I was like fourteen at the time."

"Did you get laid?"

"Shhh, let him talk."

"No, I didn't get laid...not that time anyway.  I waited in a lounge
area with twenty five or thirty soldiers and marines who were
waiting their turn with the prostitutes.  They were getting
impatient and one of them, a big tough looking sergeant, called
out to the owner of the place to send in a fag and..."

Clyde's high pitched voice came through the open window, "No fair,
she pushed me."

"...a minute later a boy around 15 or 16 came into the lounge to,
well, to entertain the troops."

"What'd the boy do?"

Tom kept his eyes on the field, on Clyde who was limping towards the
field house with tears in his eyes and his thumb in his mouth, while
he finished telling the story to his friends.

"The soldiers let the fag, really let the fag do that?"

Tom walked over and opened the door. "Yup," he said, watching the
hallway.

"Holy shit! Soldiers and marines! Fuck it, send in a fag."

Tom took a step into the hallway, "Hi, Clyde. What happened? Are you
okay, buddy?" Tom looked over his shoulder at his stunned friends
and said quickly, " Maybe that can be arranged."

Clyde looked up when he heard his name and smiled through his tears
when he saw it was Tom standing just outside the team room.  He
liked Tom a lot, admired him, because he was always friendly and
never laughed at him like all the other boys.

"She really pushed me, Tom, hard." Clyde explained once he was
seated in the room.  "I don't like it when the girls play rough."

"Forget those mean girls, you're with friends now, Clyde. Mike,
Peter, John and Walt and me, we're you're friends. You want a coke?
Peter, get our friend Clyde a coke.  You want to be our friend,
Clyde?"

"Sure," Clyde said, thrilled to be Tom's friend and the other boys
too. And everybody was being so nice. "I want to be friend's with
all of you guys."

Behind his back, Tom heard a mumbled, "What the fuck's he doing,"
and turned around to confront the culprit. "Just go along," he
mouthed, "follow my lead."

"We were just about to play cards. You like to play cards, Clyde?"

Clyde nodded and said, "Old maid and war. I like old maid best."

"The name of this card game is toggaf," Tom said as he dealt five
cards to Clyde and five to himself. "The best players, the boy who
plays it best is called a gaf."

"Toggaf," Clyde repeated. "I never heard of it. Is it hard?"

Not yet, Clyde, but soon, Tom thought. "Nah," he said. "If you can
play war you can easily learn the rules of toggaf.  I think you'll
be good at it, very good at it. You might even turn out to be a
gaf."

Ten minutes and several practice hands later, Clyde was grinning and
jumping up and down with joy.  Mike, Peter, John and Walt looked
totally confused. Tom tossed his cards on the table, shrugged his
shoulder and said, "I give up, Clyde, you're just too good to beat
at toggaf. C'mon, tell the truth, you've played toggaf before."

"No, no, I haven't, I promise,"  Clyde said.  He didn't know how he
had done it, not a clue, but he had won every practice hand.  "I'm
sorry," he added, when he saw how sad Tom was.  Clyde was prepared
to do anything to keep Tom happy.

"Don't apologize for being the best player, Clyde, for being the
gaf. I'm just glad that it was only practice and not for real."

Clyde felt so proud, he had never been the best at anything and here
was a friend, a boy friend, telling him that he was the best. "Let's
play some more, Tom, if you want to. For real this time, please."

"Okay, pal, if you insist." Tom opened his shorts, revealing the
jock strap he wore underneath.  "I'm just getting ready," he
announced to his puzzled friends. "Clyde's going to win no matter
what I do. He's a real gaf.  Why don't you deal?"

"Okay..., pal," Clyde said slowly, stretching out the word. Pal,`)

nobody had ever called him pal.  Pal was even better than friend.
"I'll get ready too," Clyde said noticing what Tom had done,
thinking it was one of the rules of the game. He promptly opened his
shorts, revealing the sky blue panties he wore underneath. Clyde
picked up the deck thinking about the rules of the game that Tom had
taught him and slowly dealt out five cards to Tom and five to
himself.

"Good play," Tom said after Clyde put a jack on top of Tom's
ten...and won the first trick.  Clyde knew that a jack was higher
than a ten, toggaf was like war, except sometimes it was different.
Clyde put down his next card, a five, and won again even though Tom
had put down a queen.  "A queen is lower than a five after your
opponent has played a jack on the first trick," Tom explained to his
baffled friends watching the game. "Not many players remember that
rule. Nice play Clyde."

Clyde wasn't about to admit it, but he didn't know that rule. In
war, the high card always won. In toggaf, sometime the low card won
the trick.  The rules were confusing and Clyde was happy that Tom
took the time to explain.  One more trick is all I need to make
three, Clyde thought. One more trick and I'll be the winner again.
For real this time.

Clyde frowned when Tom put down an ace, the highest card.  He
couldn't beat an ace so he played his lowest card, a two.

"I guess you win that one, pal, Clyde said," surprised that Tom
wasn't smiling. Instead, Clyde was surprised, along with Mike,
Peter, John and Walt, when Tom rose from his chair, opened his
shorts all the way, and let them drop to his feet.

"Acey-deucey on the third trick!!  Amazing, absolutely amazing.
Clyde, buddy, your are the best.  Man, I give up. I can't beat you
at toggaf."

"I won?"

"He won?"

Tom kicked away his shorts and took a few steps toward Clyde,
stopping with his jock covered cock inches from Clyde's face.
"Come on you guys, remember the rules.  Acey-deucey on the third
trick...of course he won. Our friend Clyde is the winner, he's the
gaf, and according to the rules Clyde gets to do it."

Clyde's frown changed to a smile as he listened to his pal Tom
shower him with praise and shower him with the smells from his jock
strap.  Clyde stared directly into Tom's mesh covered crotch, dying
to touch it and dying to see what another boy's cock was like. He
was afraid to appear stupid in front of all his new friends, but he
had to ask because he didn't know what he got for winning the card
game, what the gaf got to do. "What do I get to do, Tom?"

"Clyde, pal, buddy," Tom said in his friendliest tone. "Because I
lost the game, because you are a gaf..." Tom looked at his friends
standing behind Clyde..."You get to suck my cock and I have to cum
in your mouth."

Tom waited for Clyde's reaction. His older brothers had played
toggaf with him, taught him the game as it were.  He had watched
them play it with their Filipino house boy, enjoying the blow job
that losing entailed. It was Tom's turn to be surprised when Clyde
looked up and quietly asked if he could touch it first.

"Sure," Tom answered. "Take it out and touch it all you want. Get my
dick hard first, before you suck it."

Clyde couldn't believe his good fortune.  He couldn't touch his own
cock because his mother wouldn't allow it, but she never said that
he couldn't touch another boy's cock.  He struggled a bit with the
jock strap, Tom's cock was already getting hard.  "It's nice," Clyde
said, when he finally got it free and had stroked it for a while. "I
like it."

"Thought you might."

"My mommy won't let me play with my pee, my cock. I almost said pee
pee, that's what my mommy calls it, but I know its called a cock,
and these are balls, where the semen comes from. Mine squirts out at
night, into my panties."  Tom choked back a laugh as Clyde said,
innocently, "I like the semen, it tastes like cream. You don't have
to give me yours if you don't want to, Tom, squirt your semen in my
mouth I mean."

"That's okay pal," Tom snickered. "Take my dick in your mouth, suck
it and I'll be glad to cum in your mouth."

This is better than sucking my thumb, he thought, as two inches of
Tom's silky smooth dick made its way into his mouth. Clyde gagged a
little when Tom put his hands on the back of his head and fed him
more dick, but recovered quickly by swallowing a few times in
succession.

Tom kept testing Clyde's limits, testing to see if Clyde could take
all seven inches of his cock.  The Filipino house boy had learned
how to swallow his brother's nine inch monster after a week or so,
but no time for that today as Tom felt his orgasm approaching.

"Here it comes, cocksucker, your reward for being the fag."

Clyde's normally dull eyes lit up when the first heavy spurt of
Tom's semen hit the roof of his mouth and slid to the top of his
throat.  Tom pulled back, keeping just the head of his cock in
Clyde's mouth, and let loose with the rest of his cum load. Clyde
took it well, dazed somewhat by the intensity and quantity of Tom's
ejaculation, his mouth was filled with warm sperm, but only a tiny
bit dribbled out the corners of his mouth.

Clyde didn't swallow right away, but held the salty sperm in his
mouth, swished it around until the slimy stuff coated his gums and
tongue.  When he finally swallowed and licked one last drop of cum
from the tip of Tom's cock, Clyde looked up and said thank you,
politely, the way his mother had taught him to say when someone gave
him something nice.

Mike, Peter, John and Walt had stunned, disbelieving looks on their
faces as Tom wiped his wet cock on Clyde's face before pulling up
his jock strap and putting on his shorts.  "How'd you like sucking
my cock, Clyde, and taking my load of cum?"

Clyde had a contended look on his face, the wonderful taste of fresh
sperm in his mouth and a hardon in his panties.  At last, he
thought, peering out the window at the girls who were still playing
field hockey, something I'm good at, a game I can play with other
boys...and win. Clyde picked up the deck of cards and started to
deal. "Let's play more."

The boys played toggaf until five o'clock when the school busses`
came to take everybody home. Mike, Peter, John and Walt, in turn,
each lost a game to the champ and, like the good sports they were,
allowed Clyde to suck their teenage cocks and fill his mouth with
teenage spunk.  Tom demanded a rematch and, without even picking up
his cards, promptly lost for the second time when Clyde pulled off
a naked double gaffer.

"Shit," Tom shouted to a jubilant Clyde. "I don't know how you do
it, Clyde, playing the two of spades on a Tuesday in September. Oh,
by the way, no hands or clothes allowed and you gotta be on your
knees to collect on a naked double gaffer win."

Clyde, confused as ever by the mysterious rules of the game, but
delighted by his quick win, giggled like a school girl as he took
off all his clothes and sank to his knees and pulled off Tom's
shorts and jock strap with his teeth. Tom watched with his hands on
his hips as his rock hard prick slid smoothly between Clyde's cum
coated lips and into his lubricated mouth. The five previous blow
jobs and five loads of slick sperm had readied the cocksucker for a
deep throat attempt.

"Play with yourself, Clyde, while I fuck your face," Tom said as he
thrust deeper into the sucking mouth. "Jerk off with my dick in your
mouth."

Clyde could feel the shaft of Tom's cock pushing across his tongue
and the head nearly touching the back of his throat. He discovered
he could stop the urge to gag by swallowing fast and taking short
breaths through his nose.  He backed off Tom's prick just long
enough to say, "My mommy says I'm not allowed to play with my pee
pee," then sighed and refilled his mouth with thick hard cock.

Tom winked at his buddy's, all of whom were stroking their very
erect pricks.  "My mom says that too, Clyde, not to play with my pee
pee. That's what all moms say. My mom also says, and I'm sure your
mommy will agree, that it's okay to play with your pee pee in your
hand when you have a prick in your mouth.  And you do have a prick
in your mouth, Clyde, my prick, five inches if I had to guess, fives
inches of hard prick in your cocksucker mouth, so go for it, pal."

What Tom said his mommy said made perfectly good sense to Clyde, but
he'd have to ask his own mommy first. Clyde shook his head no so Tom
motioned Mike and Peter over and told Clyde to use his hands on
their cocks while he sucked on the cock in his mouth.  Clyde did as
he was told, glad to have something to hold on to. In minutes, the
happy cocksucker had Mike and Peter's semen spurting all over his
face, John and Walt cumming all over his back, and Tom spewing a
load of jizz into his mouth.  Clyde was literally covered with cum,
including his own which had blasted out of his untouched pee pee and
hit him under the chin.  He used his panties to clean up his face,
push the drippy sperm in his mouth, as best as he could with the
non-absorbent nylon and rode home on the five o'clock school bus
happier than he could ever remember.  As for Tom, Mike, Peter, John
and Walt, well, the boys were still laughing like hyenas as Clyde's
bus drove away and they made their way to their own school bus.

At Clyde's insistence, the boys played toggaf with him almost every
afternoon for the rest of the football and field hockey seasons. He
even signed up for the girl's track team so he could stay late after
school during the spring semester.  Clyde took on all comers, the
entire football team and boys track team, as a matter of fact, an
even twenty six boys, in defense of his gaf title. To no one's
amazement, except his own, Clyde won every time, never lost a hand.
Every boy was a good sport about losing, congratulating Clyde on his`)

victory as he got on his knees and opened his mouth to suck the
loser's cock.

They played toggaf over the summer too until one hot day in late
July when nobody remembered to bring the cards.  Nine boys with
erections demanding attention stared at each other in horror,
accused one another of being stupid...a fight nearly broke out.
Even Tom was at a loss. Clyde himself saved the day by stepping
forward and announcing in his high pitched girlish voice that they
didn't need cards.

"I'm going to win anyway," he said proudly, "and you boys, every one
of you is going to have to let me suck his cock and everyone is
going to cum in my cocksucker mouth."

Clyde was wishing as hard as he could that the boys would go along
because he didn't understand the card game at all and he was afraid
of what would happen if he lost. Afraid that he would lose all his
boy friends, that he would no longer be part of the gang. Truth be
told, Clyde liked to take off his clothes and get on his knees and
suck off his boy friends because it made his cock hard. Clyde like
to feel warm sperm squirt into his mouth and to swish it all around
before swallowing because it made him cum too. Clyde also liked it
when the boys called him a cocksucker because it made him feel
special.

"Clyde is right guys," Tom quickly agreed. "I think we should
declare him the retired and undefeated toggaf champion and..." Clyde
whispered something into Tom's ear.  "...okay, Clyde, if that's what
you want. Correction, the retired and undefeated naked double gaffer
toggaf champion, and accept the fact that we have to let Clyde suck
our dicks and we have to cum in Clyde's mouth."

Clyde whispered again in Tom's ear, "You forgot the naked part and
the knees, and..."

"Sorry about that, Clyde," Tom whispered back.  "Naked and on his
knees, guys, Clyde wants to be naked and on his knees when we stick
our dicks in his mouth, ooops, excuse me, in Clyde's cocksucker
mouth. All those in favor? Any imbeciles opposed?"

Nine hands, nine teenage pricks, rose up in favor.

"Congratulations, Clyde.  Oh, by the way, Clyde, as a retired toggaf
champ you are now officially a faggot cocksucker."

Clyde was much too excited...much too busy taking off his clothes,
untangling his hard cock from his panties, to pay but the slightest
attention to what Tom was saying.  He could almost taste the nine
loads of warm creamy semen about to pour into his mouth. "Fine Tom,
fine," he mumbled from his knees. Then, with a big smile on his
face, he called out, "I'm ready guys. Who wants to be first in my
faggot cocksucker mouth?"

In his freshman year of high school, Clyde gave up thumb sucking for
cocksucking and he gave up panties for one of Tom's old jock straps.
Freda was appalled when he undressed for bed and she saw him wearing
the smelly thing that was all stretched out and stained with she
knew not what.  Clyde liked it because the boys used it to wipe
their cocks after a blow job and the cotton mesh soaked up the semen
much better than nylon panties. He slept with it on his face so he
could smell the spent cum during the night.  On Sunday nights
he sucked the strap clean of the weeks accumulation of crusted cum
and saliva and pubic hairs.

In his sophomore year, Clyde gave up his nightgown and his Barbie
doll as being too sissyish. Instead he slept naked and played with
a Ken doll.  Clyde drank piss in his sophomore year, not a drop or
two, but a bladder full of piss directly from Tom's cock. He didn't
mind the acrid taste of Tom's urine too much, and mixed with the
mouthful of semen that followed, he thought the taste was rather
good.

In his junior year of high school, Clyde gave up something that
every cum loving, pissing drinking, faggot cocksucker eventually
gives up...his ass.  Tom broke his cherry and at the junior prom,
bending over in the boys' bathroom, naked and legs spread wide,
Clyde gave up his ass to Mike, Peter, John and Walt.

All of his boy friends had discovered girls. Dating and making out
and kissing soft lips and budding breast...and Gloria Jackson.
Clyde was no match for gang bang Gloria, the class slut, who like to
suck dick almost as much as he did, and liked to fuck even more.
The boys who used to line up for Clyde's mouth now lined up for
Gloria's wet, and very tight cunt.

"There's nothing more I can say, Clyde," Tom explained a few weeks
before the prom.  "If you want cock for your faggot mouth then you
have to make your faggot asshole available too. You have to let the
guys fuck you.  Stop thinking of it as an asshole and start thinking
of it as a cunt, your pussy. Stop thinking that you're only a faggot
cocksucker and start thinking that you're a pussy boy too. Okay?"

"Okay, Tom, from now on I'm a faggot cocksucker and a pussy boy.
Are you going to fuck me now? I want you to be first."

"You gotta learn to take the pain," Tom advised after screwing Clyde
for the second time. "Grin and bear it like a good pussy boy. Your
cunt is nice and tight, the guys are gonna love fucking you, but the
crying has to stop.  Flip over and clean the shit off my cock and
balls, I got a class next period."

In September of his senior year of high school, Clyde Horonczaki,
the class faggot, and Gloria Jackson, the class slut, got married.
The baby was born in March...two months premature...they named him
Jason. Gloria kept it to herself, but she wasn't quite sure who the
baby's father was.  The baby was white so she knew it wasn't one of
the three colored soldiers who had passed through town on their way
to California. The father could have been one of the boys from
school or maybe one of her teachers, or the mailman, or the cute
paper boy, or that nice travelling salesman who had fucked her twice
in the back seat of his Buick. Just about anybody with a hard cock
and sperm producing balls could have been Jason's father.

Gloria's friends convinced her to have sex with Clyde, trick him
into thinking that the baby was his and making him do the right
thing by getting married.  The poor boy didn't know what hit him
when Gloria, already two months pregnant, came on to him when he was
alone in the boy's locker room one late August afternoon. The
football team was coming in after pre-season practice to finish
their workout in his mouth and pussy. Clyde was waiting for them,
naked and erect, and laid out on a bench when Gloria came in. She
removed her panties and lowered herself on to his cock. He came
inside her in less than a minute and then she was gone.

The reception following the church wedding was a lively affair and
the young guests lingered on long into the night.  Mindful of her
delicate condition, the bride kept her legs closed for the first
time in years and watched with her girlfriends as her fag husband`
was stripped naked and with a dick in his cocksucker mouth at all
times, was fucked by thirty of his closest friends. The marriage was
doomed from the start and when Clyde announced that he was dropping
out of high school and going into the grocery store business with a
man he hardly knew, Gloria counted the days until she could flee.

Jason was born in Clearview, British Columbia, the tiny gold mining
outpost where Clyde had opened the store.  Business was good as more
and more men came to Clearview hoping to strike it rich. In fact,
the only business that had more customers was the lone whore house
and the six women who serviced more than two hundred horny men.
Gloria ran off with Clyde's partner and all their money one week
after giving birth. Clyde was left with a mountain of debt, a new
born son and Marie, an elderly French woman he hired to watch the
baby.

Clyde was hardpressed to make the monthly interest payments to the
not so very nice men who had lent him and his scam artist partner
the money to open the store.  They threatened to break his legs and
worse if he failed to pay. Marriage to Gloria and fatherhood hadn't
changed Clyde much, at eighteen he was still a cocksucker and a
pussy boy and it was Marie who suggested he charge the gold miners
for the use of his body instead of giving it away.

"It means nothing," she told him. "Do not be ashamed. I have seen
you many times with a man in your mouth and how easily even the
largest man finds pleasure between your legs.  Forgive my strong
language dear Clyde, but you are a far better cocksucker, a better
fuck too I think, then the women who charge for their services. And
I think you like the men to cum and spill their semen in your mouth
because I never see you spit...only swallow."

So it was agreed, five Canadian dollars for a blow job and six for
a fuck.  Marie handled the store, Clyde's schedule and baby Jason,
while Clyde handled the steady stream of horny men.  With the money
from the store and the money he made as a male whore, Clyde was just
able to make the interest payments on his loan for the next seven
years.

Jason at seven was a stunning blond haired, blue eyed little boy
who, thanks to Marie, spoke French, German and Italian, in addition
to English.  Thanks to his father's "gentlemen friends", as they
were called around the house, he knew how to cuss in each language
too. Clyde doted on the boy and tried to shield him from the sordid
side of his life.  "I don't want him growing up thinking that his
father is a whore for men," he wailed to Marie.

"Nonsense," Marie chastised him.  "The boy has eyes and ears, and a
remarkable brain.  He knows what you are and he loves you no less
for it.  Ask him yourself if you do not believe me."

Clyde did ask and was surprised to learn that Marie was right. Jason
knew exactly what he did for the men who came to visit and he told
Clyde that one of the men had offered him twenty dollars for the
same thing, a blow job.

"Twenty dollars, my god," Marie exclaimed when Clyde told her what
Jason had said.  "I shall arrange it at once."

"No," Clyde protested. "I won't have my son on his knees with a dick
in his mouth."

"Do you have the money for the next payment?  Do you wish to have
your legs broken?"

"Nooo...but he's only seven years old, Marie."

"Seven, seventeen, seventy, it makes no difference.  A man is
willing to pay and the boy is willing to do it...I asked.  The boy
must learn to be a good cocksucker, like his father, so many men
will pay. Life is hard, not always fair.  Children must help as they
can."

Clyde watched silently that evening as the money changed hands and
his son was lead away to the bedroom by a middle aged miner with
lust in his eyes and a bulge in his pants.

Marie poured Clyde a cup of coffee and sat with him at the kitchen
table.  "Let me tell you a story," she said, hoping to draw his
attention from what was happening in the other room.  "Before the
war, my father was a very rich wine merchant.  We lived in a small
village in the south of France, in a chateau, with servants tending
to our every need.  My younger brothers and I travelled all over
Europe with my parents, once to America. That is how I learned to
speak so many languages."

From the bedroom came the miner's voice. "Take off everything. I
want to see what I bought."

Clyde was half way out of his chair, but Marie pushed him back down.
"Listen to me instead," she said.

Chapter 30

"I was fourteen when the Germans came in 1940 and occupied our
village. All the men, my father included, and boys past the age of
fourteen were long gone; to the army or to the resistance, prisoners
of war or dead for all we knew.  Women and children filled the
village square as the German soldiers marched in behind their
leader, General Otto Mauser.  I alone stepped forward when the
General asked in very bad French if anyone spoke German. I alone
remained, along with twenty young boys, when all the other women and
girls were quickly loaded on trucks and driven away.  The General's
next order was met with smirks from the German soldiers and stunned
silence from the French boys when I finished translating.  The
General had ordered the French boys to take off their clothes,
Clyde, to strip naked and put their hands on their heads."

"I turned my head away at first, Clyde, not daring to look. I had
never seen a boy's penis before and here were twenty boys, naked as
the day they were born not five feet from where I was standing. The
soldiers collected the clothes while General Mauser walked among the
boys, prodding and poking at their genitals with his riding crop and
dividing them into two groups."

"Take these boys to the house," the General said to his aide,
pointing to the group which included my brothers.  "Bathe them and
feed them. These other boys are for the men, pretty French boys to
service German men.  This little fellow should do nicely, I think,
a demonstration, yes definitely.  A demonstration on the proper way
for a French boy to suck German dick. Fritz!"

"All of the soldiers looked big to me, Clyde, but Fritz was the
biggest one of all.  More a mountain than a man and he towered over
Pierre, the little boy that General Mauser had singled out.  Mauser
barked out an order in German. He had to explain the words I was not
familiar with before I understood what Pierre had to do. The only
thing that was immediately clear to all of us, if we wanted to see
our mothers and sisters alive and unharmed, every French boy had`
best obey the General's orders without question."

"Tell me, Clyde, how does a fourteen year old girl explain
cocksucking to a boy so young that he has never thought about sex or
had an erection, much less taking a man's penis in his mouth and
sucking on it like a piece of candy?  Well, explain cocksucking is
what I had to do, suck the German's cock is what Pierre had to
do...to save our loved ones.  So that is what I did and that is what
Pierre did."

"Pierre was so frightened as he dropped to his knees, his little
hands shook as he struggled to open the German's pants. Never in all
my years, Clyde, have I seen a man equipped so large as Fritz, and
so much hair...a bear.  Tears filled my eyes as I translated General
Mauser's instructions."

"Balls first," Mauser barked. "Kiss the balls, lick them all around
and underneath.  Breathe deep French boy, smell that good German
sweat with your delicate nose, taste the sweat on your tongue. Now
the cock, boy, fine German cock. Polish the head and the shaft with
your tongue, make it hard and ready for your French mouth."

"Pierre could barely hold the German's cock with his two small
hands, so large had it grown and so fat. He licked and kissed the
German's cock and balls, his little face all but lost in the forest
of dark dense hair that covered the man's body, until his tears and
saliva dripped to the dusty earth. I dared a peek at the others.
Several boys had erections, Clyde, little spikes of flesh waving up
and down. The German soldiers eyed them like lambs about to be
slaughtered."


Chapter 31

General Otto Mauser was a contented man as he gazed upon the naked
French boys and the little one on his knees struggling with the huge
cock assaulting his mouth. The first stage of his subjugation plan
was unfolding without a hitch.  Those idiots in Berlin, he thought
with disgust. Hitler and Eichmann, idiots, crazy men with their
concentration camps and the killing hundreds of thousands, millions,
of Jews and others. What a waste. Who would be left after Germany
won the war; left to work in the fields and in the mines and
factories? Who would be left to serve as slaves to the Fatherland?

Herman Goring was the only one who saw merit in Mauser's plan when
he explained it to him in Poland.  But Goring was a man very much
like Mauser.  Though not born to wealth, each had become accustomed
to having others attend to his every need.  A man like Mauser,
Goring was, a man who enjoyed life's many pleasures and the
pleasurable company of little boys. Young boys with firm bodies and
smooth flawless skin and...

"My subjugation plan is simple, Herman. First we shut down all
textile and apparel manufacturing, eliminate all clothes from the
country," Mauser explained as he fondled the hairless penis of the
Polish boy on his lap.  "Women, girls, men, and boys of course, like
these two puppies; the entire population of the conquered country
will be prohibited from wearing clothes.  A coat and shoes during
the winter, yes, but to be removed indoors. We shall keep them
naked, Herman, naked like animals.  The loss of dignity alone will
keep the adults in check as they toil like animals for their German
masters.  What do you think so far?"

Goring laughed from deep within his massive body. His fleshy hanging`
breasts rippled with delight. "I think my blond puppy has fallen
asleep with my cock in his mouth.  Tell me more of your plan, Otto."

"Would you like another boy to play with, Herman? I have several
pretty ones available, circumcised Jews with the sweetest semen you
have ever tasted."

"Your boys are always pretty, Otto. Save them for later, though.
Please continue."

"Yes, as you wish.  Well, after the loss of dignity has been
established through nudity and being treated like animals, we
further subjugate the adult male population through humiliation.
The women too perhaps, but I am less concerned about the women than
I am about the men.  How, you may ask, do we humiliate tens of
thousands of adult men?  Men from different countries and cultures?"

"I'm sure you have the answer, dear Otto."

"Masturbation!"

"Masturbation?"

"Yes, Herman, masturbation. Think of it, man.  What could be more
humiliating for a grown man than to masturbate and ejaculate...in
public masturbation centers?  Like monkeys in the zoo, Herman,
monkeys in the zoo.  We may even sell tickets and accept wagers,
like at the race track. Only instead of horses running around, we
will have naked men masturbating in front of an audience.  The last
man to cum will be castrated on the spot or shot, whatever it takes
to insure an enthusiastic performance from each man.

I know what you're thinking, Herman, but at the present time as you
and I are well aware, the idiot Fuhrer is opposed to homosexuality.
Perhaps Hitler will change his mind when he hears of my plan or a
more enlightened man, such as your good self, will come to power in
Berlin. How easy it will be to include certain other activities at
the public centers."

Goring shifted slightly as the sleeping boy in his lap sighed once
and suckled gently on the German's organ. He waited for the boy to
settle his lips around the fat base of his growing erection.  "What
about the boys, Otto?  I suspect you have something special planned
for these wonderful creatures. Yes?"

Mauser laughed and said, "You know me so well, Herman, and too long.
I do indeed have something special planned for the boys of every
country we occupy.  Eastern Europe is already ours. France is
falling as we speak and then Great Britain and North Africa. We will
turn on our allies Italy and Russia when the time is right.  When
Germany has won the war the question becomes how to control all
these countries so that they will never pose a threat..."

Mauser stopped in mid-sentence when he saw his friend's teeth clench
and face contort with an approaching orgasm.  The Polish boy was
awake and sucking furiously on the German's cock.  His little hands
held the base of the thick shaft while his head bobbed up and down
until, with a single grunt, Goring held the boy's head still and
ejaculated forcefully into the young boy's mouth.  Spurt and
swallow, spurt and swallow.  Mauser was pleased to see the boy had
learned his lessons well...only a tiny bit of sperm leaked from the
corners of his mouth.  The boy also remembered to clean the cock and
the balls thoroughly and, when the job was completed, to kiss the
tip and say, 'thank you master.'

"...never pose a threat to the Fatherland."

Mauser had to stop again, his friends lust was insatiable.  Goring
was on his knees, stuffing his mouth with the Polish boy's penis and
testicles. His hands were on the boy's ass, pulling him in tight as
if to devour his entire body.  Mauser knew the boy was too young to
cum so he was surprised to see Goring swallowing...ahhh, urine. The
Polish boy was urinating in Herman's mouth.

"We German's are the master race," Mauser continued as Goring, still
on his knees, turned his boy around and planted a kiss on each
rounded cheek.  "We must eliminate the future threat posed by the
boys of inferior races.  Even Hitler must admit that we can't kill
them all, so we must find a different way to neutralize aggressive
behavior. Therefore, Herman, my plan is to condition every boy from
birth and continue the training for say, six or seven years, every
boy in every country.  We will raise them as homosexuals!"

Goring drew his tongue from the Polish boy's ass and looked at
Mauser.

"Fags, Herman, cocksuckers! Think of it, an entire generation of
submissive boys. Slaves to cock. Slaves to German cock.  They won't
want to make war, just make love to their German master's cock."

"Brilliant, Otto, brilliant.  It will take time and work, a great
deal of work," Goring said, positioning the boy's mouth at his left
breast to nurse at his elongated nipple and easing a pudgy finger
into his boy's tiny anal opening.

"Far less than you may think because the subjugated and humiliated
parents, if they wish to keep their children, will do the work for
us.  Naked parents will raise their naked sons as homosexuals, raise
them to worship German cock. Baby boys will be fed semen every day
with their mother's milk and a cup of semen every day when they have
been weaned from the breast.  Semen collected at the public
masturbation centers I might add.

Toys and books and games, the elementary school curriculum will
teach cocksucking and the beauty of the German penis.  Within five
years we will have millions of submissive cock loving naked young
boys who will know nothing and want nothing...except to be on their
knees with a German dick in their mouth and German cum in their
bellies.

Take a ride with me, Herman.  I set up a pilot program last week in
a town a few miles south of Warsaw that I want you to see.  If we
hurry, you can watch the three o'clock public masturbation."

Herman Goring was impressed as Otto drove around Lzdansk, a
university town with a mixed population of 2,000 Jews and Roman
Catholics. Peasants were working in the fields surrounding the town,
not one had a stitch of clothing on and each bowed their heads to
the passing car.  The town square was eerily quiet despite the fact
that dozens of naked women and children were hurrying about under
the smirking eyes of scores of well armed and uniformed German
soldiers.

"They stayed indoors the first two days," Mauser said with a laugh.
"But they had to come out to buy food, go to work and school. More
come out each day like frightened animals, afraid to raise their
eyes. A few more days and they will feel like animals as their last
shreds of human dignity, like their clothes, are removed.  Look over
there, Herman, the elderly man on the church steps."

"The one with the collar and the cross?"

"The Catholic priest, Herman, naked like the rest of his flock of
sheep, but I insisted that he continue to wear the collar and the
cross...continue Sunday services too. The collection plates worked
quite nicely to collect the ejaculated semen during the public
masturbation session that was held in his church.  The old priest
may not fuck around with women, but he knows how to use his
hand...he was the first to cum."

Goring enjoyed a hearty laugh as Mauser drove past the church and
stopped the car in front of the elementary school. "I want you to
see the kindergarten," Mauser said, opening the door to a classroom.
A large picture of Adolph Hitler surrounded by naked boys dominated
the room.  On each desk was a small glass containing a thick milky
fluid.

"Pure semen," Otto said pointing to a large pitcher of the stuff on
the teacher's desk.  "Each boy drinks two glasses of sperm a day,
more if they want it and I'm told that many do.  We add a small
amount of a chemical substance which keeps the semen from congealing
and makes it slightly addictive.  In a few years, Herman, sperm will
replace beer as the national drink of Poland.

The teacher, an attractive young woman with large, pink nippled
breasts and a lush growth of pubic hair between her plump thighs,
quickly called the class of five year old boys to attention when she
saw the two German officers.

"Lesson one please, fraulein."

Without comment, the teacher retrieved a slightly oversized, but
otherwise anatomically correct model of an erect adult penis from
its showcase.  A shiny swastika was suspended from a leather strap
fitted around the testicles. The naked boys immediately lined up in
front of their teacher and the cock. Goring and Mauser took their
leave as the last little boy got on his knees, kissed the tip of the
penis, and recited, "I am a cocksucker, a Polish cocksucker. I am
proud to suck German dick."

"It's not quite three o'clock," Mauser said. "Shall we walk a bit,
enjoy the sights, before the public masturbation?"

Goring's eyes were somewhat glazed. The naked kindergarten boys,
their little cocks and the odor of sperm had excited him. A group of
naked teenage boys on the steps of the school house... He turned and
spoke a few words to Mauser.

"Whichever one you want, Herman, just point him out to me. Virgin
mouth or a boy with experience?"

Goring pored over the naked youths trying to determine which of them
was cherry. "How can you tell?" He finally asked Mauser.

"Look at the inside of the left arm.  Do you see any letters?"

Two boys' arms were clean. Three had the letter "C" tattooed near
the wrist. One curly haired fellow had "CO" and one swarthy boy with
scarred knees had "COCKSU" travelling up the inside of his arm.

"Eichman numbers them for the death camps," Mauser said with venom
in his voice. "I letter them for life as obedient cocksuckers."

"No time to for cherry, Otto.  I need it fast and dirty, and I want`
to bury it deep.  In an alley, like when we were kids in Munich."

The swarthy boy's foreskin was fully retracted, a string of precum
dangled from the purple head of his erect prick, when his knees hit
the rough bricks between Goring's legs.

"I am a cocksucker," he said quickly, looking up at Goring's face.
"A Polish cocksucker. I am proud to suck German dick."

The sincerity in the boy's voice surprised Mauser and Goring alike.

"I am proud to suck German dick," the boy repeated when Goring made
no move to open his pants. "Please," the boy said meekly. "Please
let me suck your cock, put it in my mouth, please. I need to suck
dick, I want the sperm, a man to cum in my mouth so bad. I got to
have it, I'll do anything. Piss on me, shit on me, fuck me if you
want."

"Sperm addict," Mauser explained as Goring roughly fucked the boy's
mouth.  "I have our scientists working on the problem."

The masturbators were already lined up in the town square when a
totally spent Herman Goring and Otto Mauser slipped in alongside the
crowd that had been assembled to watch the public masturbation.
Twenty, frightened, thoroughly embarrassed, red faced naked men of
various ages looked out on the equally naked bodies of their wives
and children, mothers and sisters, girlfriends and neighbors.  Four
well dressed businessmen and their ladies in silk dresses and
jewels, Austrians, were drinking champagne and making lewd remarks
about the cocks on display.

"Watch the crowd too," Mauser advised Goring as the whistle blew and
the humiliated men began to masturbate. "The wives of the older men,
watch how they fondle their flabby breasts and pinch the nipples.
See how others spread their legs, play with their cunts? Anything to
get their man excited, make him cum.  It's an added bonus when it
happens, something I didn't foresee."

Goring's face was an unreadable mask as he watched the frenzied
gyrations and undulations of the naked men.  The frantic pulling and
stroking of flaccid organs, massaging of loosely hanging testicles,
fingers probing a puckered opening, tweaking a nipple. Each man
displayed a slightly different, sometimes surprising and unexpected
technique to excite himself, make himself erect...to bring himself
to climax.

Some men kept their eyes closed, conjuring up whatever stimulating
sexual images they could.  Others stared at the sky or at their
feet, too ashamed to look anywhere else. One grey haired man was
sucking his thumb, eyes fixed on another man's cock. Another man was
on his back, two were on their knees, all frantically jerking
off like sex crazed teenage boys.  Goring heard the gay laughter of
the Austrians over the sobs, muttered words of prayer, the grunts
and groans, the quickening gasps for breath as several of the
younger men neared orgasm.  The last to cum faced an uncertain
future...castration, maybe death, and the masturbating men knew it.

Masturbation is an act so intimate and personal, so completely soul
baring, mentally as well as physically, more so than any other act
a man can commit.  Masturbating in public was like turning a man
inside out.  It was more humiliating, more degrading...more exciting
to watch than Goring had imagined it would be.

Long repressed memories of his childhood in Munich, performing in`
his father's beer garden, rose to his conscious mind as he watched.
Dancing and singing on the stage behind the bar and tossing his
clothes to the cheering men below; piece by piece...until he was
standing before them exposed, completely naked, and playing with his
tiny penis and testicles.

Goring winced as he recalled the smell and the taste of the beer,
the smell and the taste of the men as they pressed his chubby
girlish breasts to their bare chests and passed him around from man
to man like a toy. It all came rushing back; the smell and the taste
of hairy unwashed cocks against his face and ejaculated semen
rushing into his mouth as he crawled on his hands and knees from one
man to the next until every man was satisfied. He shuddered with the
recollection of the nightly ordeal of his father's hairy body
weighing heavily on his small back and the pain of his father's
forceful entry and waking each morning with semen still oozing from
his rear.

~~~~

Herman Goring was ten when his father sold the beer garden, and
Herman's services, to a man who owned a string of Berlin nightclubs
which featured transvestite acts. He was looking to open a similar
club in Munich.  Herman converted easily from a chubby little boy to
a chubby little girl and was an immediate sensation at the club.
Even without the wig and the make-up, his high pitched singing voice
and his chubby breasts had the patrons convinced that he was really
a girl.  They shouted and cheered, threw money on the stage, when
Herman completed his act and tossed his G string into the audience.

Herman was an even bigger sensation on stage with the more
sophisticated audiences in Berlin. Back stage too where his fellow
performers made good use of his talented mouth.  Berlin was a wide
open city where prostitution was legal and homosexuality accepted.
Club goers expected to see nudity and unconventional sex on stage,
raunchy sex, the raunchier the better. Women with women, men with
men, animals, and the chubby boy with breasts who sang like a girl
and could swallow the better part of a donkey's dick without
breaking a sweat.  Herman's onstage career waned, however, as he got
older and uglier and fatter...he looked ridiculous in a G string.

The only stage work he could get was a small part as the desperate
cocksucker in an all male review.  Three shows a night he crawled
around the stage begging for dick.  His only line in the show was,
'I am a cocksucker. I want to suck your cock.'  At the end of act
one, the star of the show, a massive African man, finally relents.
The curtain falls with Herman on his knees, center stage, stroking
his dick while sucking an enormous coal black cock. When the show
closed after a three year run, the fat teenager worked as a call boy
for a time and then in a succession of cheap whore houses. He even
appeared as an extra in several low budget pornographic movies.  His
film career ended behind the camera, working on the set as a cunt
boy or pussy cleaner, as the position was often called in the
industry.

When Hitler and his Nazi party began their rise to power, Herman was
on the streets, destitute, selling blow jobs and his ass for a
couple of worthless marks.

That's where Otto Mauser found him, on his hands and knees in a dim
alley, naked except for a tattered shirt.  He reeked of urine and
feces, and his face was caked with dried semen.

"Blow job, mister," Herman said when he saw Mauser. "Please. I'm a`
good cocksucker. I'll suck your dick for three marks. Cum on my
face, in my mouth, I swallow.  One mark, then," Herman offered when
Mauser shook his head. "I'll lick your asshole clean, suck your
balls and blow you for one mark. Piss in my mouth first if you
want."

Otto was indeed out cruising for teenage boys the day he found
Herman. Not for sex, though he had done that at times too, but to
find boys for the party. Herman Goring with Otto Mauser's help
climbed out of one gutter and into another, for on that same day he
joined the Nazi party.

~~~~

"Are you enjoying the show, Herman?  Can you imagine anything more
humiliating, more degrading...funnier too?  Watching them suck each
other couldn't be any more degrading or funnier.  We'll leave the
cocksucking to the young boys, right?"

Mauser knew little of Goring's life before he found him in the alley
and had him join the party.  Anyone who knew was long dead or
murdered on Goring's order.

Goring's face lit up.  The dark cloud of long ago memories blew away
at the mention of young boys. "What have you planned for the loser,"
he asked Otto as in quick succession five of the younger men
ejaculated into the sperm collection cups.

"I'm feeling generous today," Otto replied.  "And we have more semen
collected than the youngsters need. Shall we let the loser keep his
useless nuts and watch as he drinks the fruit of the other men's
labor."

The last man to cum, or not cum as it turned out, was the college
president.  The man's penis was rubbed raw, his balls were swollen.
The Austrians sipped chilled champagne while he sipped nineteen cups
of warm semen.

On the drive back to Warsaw, Goring complimented his friend. "You
have thought of everything, Otto, everything. The humiliated men
will be rendered useless and we'll have millions of naked young boys
with tender little pricks and cute rounds balls ripening with creamy
sperm...mmmmm. And tiny pink rosebuds...ahhhh. I will leave for
Berlin immediately and let you know the outcome of my meeting with
Adolph.  Are you staying in Warsaw?"

"No. I leave for the south of France in the morning.  There's a
small village I want to visit to test my plan on French boys. My
preliminary work with Polish boys is done for now and the results,
I think you'll agree, are most satisfactory.  It's a shame you can't
stay a while longer, Herman, to sample the pretty Jewish boys I
mentioned earlier. I also have an eleven year old virgin with a six
inch uncut cock and a recent growth of pubic hair. The boy has yet
to have an orgasm and I'm certain that in the right mouth he is
ready to ejaculate his very first sperm."

Goring smiled at his old friend.  "Six inches? Never been touched?"

Mauser nodded.

"Hmmm.  I suppose Berlin and Hitler will still be there tomorrow."


Chapter 31

Marie had tears in her eyes as she continued her story. "I shall
never forget, Clyde, never. Pierre on his knees, the other boys
naked and frightened, the German soldiers...and General Mauser
barking out orders."

"Good. Very good.  Now you must beg...like a dog.  Beg like a French
dog for your master's dick. Louder French boy, so everyone can hear
you.  So all of France can hear you begging to suck cock, begging to
suck German cock."

Clyde listened closely to hear what was taking place in the other
room.  He didn't want his young son begging for dick, begging to
suck a man's cock. It was bad enough he had to be in there at all
with a cock in his sweet mouth, probably on his knees, to help out
his father.

Marie took Clyde's hand in hers. "Pierre did the best he could, to
save his mother from harm, Clyde, like Jason is doing for you. I can
still hear his small voice shouting, 'Please may I suck your cock,
sir. Please put your dick in my mouth, sir. Please cum in my
cocksucker mouth.'  Pierre didn't know what the words meant at
first, but he learned, all the boys in the village learned how to
service a man with his mouth and how to swallow a man's semen. Every
day until liberation the village boys, the German soldiers used the
village boys for their pleasure...like Otto Mauser was training them
to be cocksuckers, Clyde, like he had a plan.  My brothers....is it
possible to become addicted to cocksucking, addicted to semen?  Is
such a thing possible?"

Clyde nodded his head. "Yes," he said softly, without hesitation.
"It's possible."

"When the Americans came my brothers spent a great deal of time with
the GI's during the day and at night, at night, Clyde, many American
boys came to the house to see my brothers.  There were no women in
the village, only boys.  They didn't have to do it, we had what to
eat and a little money hidden away, but the GI's came to the door
asking to see the French fags."

From the bedroom came several moans and quick gasps, followed by a
long sigh and a little cough.  Clyde and Marie sat quietly, the deed
was done, waiting for the door to open.  Not again, Clyde thought,
as the familiar sounds of a cock being sucked assaulted his ears.
When the door finally opened, the miner came over to Clyde while
Marie went in to see to Jason.

"Your boy's a chip of the old block, Clyde, a born cocksucker. I got
a seven inch dick and he took most all of it.  Choked a bit when I
cummed his mouth, but he swallowed my scum...seemed to like it too
cause he licked a few drops of scum clean off my nuts." The miner
looked around, and in a voice just above a whisper. "I hope you
don't mind, Clyde, but I did something...it's the strangest thing,
something I never done before, never wanted to do."

"What?" Clyde said anxiously. "What?"

"Difficult to explain and I'm a tad embarrassed about it. Hey, you
been sucking my cock for a couple of years and did I ever once even
touch your dick?"

"Nooo."

"Course not. I ain't no homosexual.  Well, you see, I sort of, um,
sort of, ah...there's something about your boy, Clyde."

"Is Jason alright!!  You didn't hurt him! What is it, man, spit it
out!"

"Take it easy, the boy's fine...better than fine.  Aww, shit, when
he got done blowing me, I, I, I kind of took his little prick in my
hand and kind of put it in my mouth and kind of sucked on it some.
Balls too, Clyde, I sucked his balls and his prick and when he said
he had to... Like I said, there's something about your boy."

"...and when I said I had to pee," Jason said to Clyde and Marie
when the miner had gone. "He told me to pee in his mouth. So I did."


Chapter 32

"Please sit down and stop worrying, Clyde.  Henri and Francois will
be meeting him at the airport.  Jason will be fine in New York."

"I know, I know. It's just that he's so young."

"He's a handsome young man and we both know that this day was
inevitable.  He's been wanting to go to New York since he turned
eighteen and that was two years ago.  My brothers will take good
care of him, teach him what he needs to know to get along in New
York."

"Tell me the truth, Marie, he doesn't look like a fag, does he?"

"Gay, Clyde, gay.  Jason is not a fag, he's gay.  And no, he doesn't
look gay.  Why don't you ask that pretty ticket agent he's talking
to if you don't believe me."

Marie and Clyde watched the plane pull back from the gate, taxi to
the runway and soar into the air. Jason Horonczaki, now Jason
Howard, settled back into his first class seat and looked around the
empty cabin.  The ticket agent had upgraded him to first class, to
celebrate his first plane ride she said, after she had given him a
first class blow job in the first class lounge.  His first blow job
from a woman.


Chapter 32

"Jason Howard to see the Ambassador," Jason said to the new desk
clerk, an older woman who had replaced the pretty young girl after
an orgasm that had drained her strength. "I believe he's expecting
me."

This one didn't catch the bug, thank god, or we could have been
there all night.

"Lunch tomorrow, Steven," Jason said, as we walked towards the
elevators.

"Make it dinner," I said, chuckling softly. The Senator's discovered
Viagra, I suspect I'll be busy until he leaves for the airport at
four."

"Dinner it is then. Let's meet at Lutece."

~~~~

I had come a long way since that first blow job in a locker room.
The Plaza Hotel, Lutece, a penthouse apartment overlooking Central`
Park.  Jason too, I thought as we kissed before the elevator doors
closed.  He might have spent his entire life as a male whore in
Clearview had it not been for Marie's brothers, Henri and Francois,
who came to visit their sister during the Christmas holidays several
years back.  The two gay men had offered to sponsor Jason in New
York, polish the rough edges and bring him into their business and
into my life.

I sometimes think about my father and my brother George, both dead
so many years, and the effect they had on my life.  Most often
though it's Mark that briefly comes to mind when Jason and I are
making love.  Would I be in bed with Jason's penis in my mouth, mine
in his mouth, sucking each other for the ultimate gift that one man
can give to another, if I had never met Mark Levine.  I suppose I'll
never know.

Jason and I are in love.  We talk about marriage and our future
together when our careers as high class male prostitutes come to an
inevitable end. The old queers will always be old, the cocksuckers
who service them have got to be young.

We're saving our money, Jason and I, maybe open a restaurant or
small country inn for gay couples.  We'll do it someday when we get
older, someday...when the time is right.

THE END