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Aside from all manner of homosexual behavior, I have one additional warning.  There is occasional mention of drug use characteristic of the time period.   I promise that it is only incidental here and there and not constant. It was not included to proselytize but only for the sake of authenticity. 

Continued upon request:

jet2larkin  at  Jeemale dot kom---- (reinterpret)


Recollections,  Myles Koenig, 1900:

My mother didn't care what I did as long as it didn't interfere with whatever frivolous activity she was involved with at that moment.  After her attempt to turn my discipline and up-bring over to Mr. Robbie ended in failure, she lost resolve.  After that, she went on to other things letting me do as I pleased. 

This coincided with my discovery and subsequent preoccupation with masturbation.  If the maid came into my room and saw me naked and I was in the very middle of it, she'd just leave, pretending that she saw nothing.  I had no worry because why would she risk her employment by informing my mother?  

Anthony Grey, the first boy I lured up to the vacant floors of my house, came over only intermittently.  I think that perhaps he believed in the Bible or one of the fathers at St. Paul's School had gotten to him and told him that dirty thoughts and filthy behavior will end him up burning up in hell.

Even at the early age of eleven I didn't believe in any of that nonsense.  I'd liked to think that Tony only came over when his big balls were full and ready to burst and that if I jerked him off he was somehow absolved of the sin.  It wasn't on the first time, but the second that time I put my mouth on his large cock.  I held him by his firm thighs and guided him so that the length of his erect cock went in and out of my mouth.  In the midst of his internal conflict between good and evil, his urgency was so intense that it made him momentarily insane.  Seeing him in this state was incredibly thrilling.   By the third time, I let him inject stream after stream of jizum directly into my mouth.  Once done, he was consumed with shame and excused himself only to return in desperation a week later.  In contrast, I was beginning to develop a taste and appreciation for jizum.    My own urgency was growing and Tony Grey was not to be my only encounter.


Myles Koenig was like me in a lot of ways.  We were the same size and age.  He had straight blond hair when mine was a bit wavy.  On one day, his hair might be so long that it hung almost in his eyes and the next day, shorn back making him look like a different boy.  Myles was devilishly cute and instantly adorable.  We both realized the value of mischief and the draw we had towards each other was completely irresistible.  I invited him to stay for the week-end and it was no surprise when he excitedly accepted.  


(Addendum 1929:  The Koenig family lived in the Hardenbergh Apartments on 72nd, across the street from the park.  It's adopted name, The Dakota, was attributed to its remote location at the time that it was built.  Mr. Koenig, Myles' father, worked for the German diplomatic service in the German Embassy.)  


Myles gave me a knowing smile.  He quickly sensed the power and potential of the boy's domain that I had staked out up on the vacant 5th floor.  Both our cocks erected stiff and hard at the thought of total freedom and liberation one finds only outside the bounds of civilization.  Not even an hour after his arrival we were already unfurling each other's clothing for detailed genital examinations .  Not longer than a forefinger, both our cocks were rigid, red and naughtily scented from our retracted foreskins.  Our cocks were identical.  The tender tarnished brown scrotums were incredibly sensitive to each other's touch and perfectly pink boyholes ready for probing.  To say that were overjoyed with each other would be an understatement.   

We spent the afternoon in an extended foreplay of stalking, capturing, pretend torture and imaginary slavery.  The effect was so erotic that we were both quivering at each turn.  When I sucked on his cock, it was a revelation to him and he took to it without question.  He engaged in it as easily and naturally as I did.  Neither of us had a drop of jizum but we would experience an extremely intense and exquisite orgasm and a minute later, be ready to do it again. 

The maid called us down for dinner and the two of us were to eat in my bedroom because my mother was out for the evening.  It was still early and we had been invited to go over to his parents home for dessert.  It was only a 4 block walk and they wanted see what sort of boy I was and if had good manners and if I was from a respectable family.  In New York, the poor and the wealthy are often in close proximity to each other and one can't be too careful.  Myles Mother was English and very beautiful.  His father was a German business man and the dessert was rum cherries and cake.  They were satisfied and Myles was allowed to return with me for the rest of the week-end.  Once back on the street, we laughed out loud as if we had gotten away with the crime of the century.

Lying on my bed we had endless stories to tell each other.  Stories about how and when we learned to jerk-off, methods used, peculiar practices and unexpected sexual encounters with this one or that one.  Eventually I brought up Anthony Grey.   Myles knew exactly who he was.  I told him about seeing Tony getting a boner in class and how big it was.  I told Myles about the look on Tony's face when he saw me watching his calamity.  It is likely that Myles had the same impulses and thoughts about Tony's precocious masculinity as I did but he never acted on them.  He wanted to know all the details.  The discussion provoked renewed interest in each other and we undressed for bed.  Naked and erect, I lifted my covers up so Myles could crawl in with me and together, merge our warm bodies.  Arm and arm we were like Gemini and head to bottom were Pisces the fish from the stars and the zodiac.  

Out of curiosity and mischievous desire, I probed his bottom with my fingers.  Myles was boyishly unembarrassed and positioned himself to make it easy.  Penetrating his behind with my cock was so obvious and natural that it would be always primary between us from that point on.  Pulling his legs back with me mounting him front to front was so perfect and was even made better through his desire to kiss deeply.  Our mutual desire was then bonded by a simultaneous orgasm.  This was quite an accomplishment for largely two inexperienced boys.      

Myles and I became inseparable and engaged in these secret activities constantly.  We took up residence in each other homes and people were used to never seeing one of us without the other.  In spite of that, I don't think anyone had the slightest suspicion.  Everyone assumed that we were pure and innocent.  We did our best to maintain the appearance of two polite, well-bred boys from St. Paul's Episcopal School.  The hidden truth was that the two of us were wicked, dirty minded and fun.

All changed when we both entered high school. Myles was being sent to a naval academy in Maryland.  We would miss each other but neither one of us were the type to be bogged down with melancholia.  Myles would be home for holidays and part of the summer and during those times we would renew our sexual affairs.   In his absence, I immediately started keeping my eyes open for somebody else.  This is, after all, the unspoken nature of homosexuality.  


The Broome Affair,  May 1, 1912:

With Peter finally back to work delivering telegrams, I felt I had earned a rest.  I know Peter couldn't wait to get back to work in his new, especially fitted uniform.  He was sure that his new image would generate tips from admirers. 

To use his words, "Especially from jaded wankers like you, Edmund."

It was spoken with the sort of sly affection I've come to expect from Peter.   

As I have been for some time now, I resisted the urge to smoke my opium and sleep the day away and instead decided to bathe and breakfast at the Little Cup.  If I was lucky I might run into Claude or someone like him who doesn't require quite as much work as Peter.


Just as I was preparing to go out, I heard a faint knock on my door. Opening it, I saw the small figure. It was Billy.  His cap was pulled down low, obscuring his eyes and he was wearing only an undershirt and rumpled pants.  He quickly came in and sat on the edge of the divan.  It was strange and uncommon to see a boy anxiously wringing his hands.

"Billy, what's the matter?"

He wouldn't say anything.  His distress hung in the room like an ominous cloud of dread.

I gathered him up and took him down to breakfast with me.  On the street I picked up my paper and did my best to behave as if there wasn't a crisis walking along side of me.

Breakfast ordered, I looked at him and calmly said, .."Ok Billy, tell me what's the matter?"

His usually high voice was so soft that I had to move closer to hear him. "The police came and took my father to jail."


There was a long pause until he said, "I don't know."

This only prompted more inquiry.

"He had a ladyfriend and now she's gone and no one knows where she is."

I asked him. "Are you worried about your father?"

He shrugged his shoulders.

The food seemed to calm him down and he spoke without emotion.  "The nuns at school heard about it and they told the Sisters of Charity and they are all out looking for me so I came here."

He looked up at me and said, "They're gonna put me in an orphanage because there's no one else."


Mr. Williamson was our families attorney.  We sat together in his office in the Singer building, downtown on Broadway.  He asked about my Mother's health and gave me important statistics concerning our annuities. 

Finally I said,  "Do you know anything about a William Broome being arrested?"

He thought for a short moment. 

"Yes, just this morning.  It was in the Journal American.  A grizzly murder of a prostitute down near Rivington street.  According to the papers, the screams brought all the neighbors out.  They took Broome to the Lafayette station still in bloody clothes and although he's not yet been charged, he admitted killing the girl.  I know that judge in that jurisdiction and he'll hang."

I explained that I had his son sleeping in my apartment and that welfare services are already looking for him. 

I explained to Mr. Williamson, "I want to do something on the boy's behalf, maybe send him to a private school. Going to an orphan asylum doesn't do anyone any good."

My lawyer understood completely and perhaps even an inkling of my deeper motives. "Suppose I approach Mr. Broome with your offer and in exchange I will appeal to the judge handling the case to consider life in prison rather than hanging?"

We both sat contemplating for a long moment. 

"Mr. Lowell, my advice is to keep the boy out of sight because if the newspapers and the city agencies become aware, he runs the risk of becoming a spectacle in the case and you and the boy will lose control of the situation.  I will draw up guardianship papers and see if Mr. Broome will sign."

I returned to my flat trying to figure out how I got into this complicated state of affairs.

Continued upon request:

jet2larkin  at  Jeemale dot kom---- (reinterpret)

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