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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.
My apologies for the delay but I had to complete a long neglected story.
Continued upon request:
jet2larkin at Jeemale dot kom---- (reinterpret)
June 1912, The Transition:
Billy, Peter and myself were crowded into my small 10th street apartment. It was pleasant, chaotic and tumbling. The two had formed a criminal partnership and made me their slave. I had to submit to their dictatorial whims and invented humiliations. If my window had overlooked the East River they would surely have blindfolded me and made me walk the plank. They never seemed to tire of it and to be truthful, neither did I. As I look back on it, it was one of the high points of my life. They would start with each other and when sufficiently aroused, then attack me. This was boy play at its best and it consisted of group masturbation, urine releases and oral sex.
More intimate encounters took place when one or the other was absent or asleep. Sometimes, in the wee hours, Peter would place himself under the covers with me and push up his behind to be penetrated. This had become his secret passion and this is what had finally bonded us together. Causing a novice to ejaculate just by being penetrated is a wondrous and gratifying achievement.
Bearing slight smile he'd whisper, "What a filthy bastard you are. You made me cum from my insides."
Peter delivered telegrams 6 days a week, working from 6 to 6 and When he came home in the evening he often went to sleep immediately only to be up and irrepressively erect for half the night.
~
Billy, no longer a fugitive, was my constant companion and would be for the entire summer until I decided where I would enroll him in school. I wanted to treat him gently and allow him to overcome his terrible circumstances. I was very grateful that Peter had taken him on in such a brotherly manner and I freely told him so.
Billy was so pleasant and good natured that I never minded his company, even for a moment. I spent time with him and wanted to understand how he felt about his ill fated father. The story of his life was a series of jig-saw puzzle pieces that I had to assemble. Once his mother died, Billy lost her protection. He had to be resourceful because his father spent most of the money at the tavern, drinking. Consequently there was little food. His father was a hard drinker and sought out prostitutes. Many times it failed or he had already spent the money. Then he'd come home and exploit his own son.
Billy would say, "It was the drink that done it."
I suggested that maybe he was just plain mean to begin with.
He responded, "Yeah, that too."
This was the main reason Billy was so used to being penetrated. Billy had learned early on that other men liked him for the same reason but treated him better or gave him money. Of course, that is how we met. He was indifferent towards his father and this attitude seemed to continue even after the man had been hanged. Except for his relationship with Peter, Billy had withdrawn a bit and I resolved to let him come out at his own pace.
~
It became apparent to me that we would need a larger apartment. One where we could each have a room to negotiate our associations out of choice and not the jumble of one crowded bed like a slum tenement in the Five Points. Not to be misinterpreted, I enjoyed it immensely but we needed room to spread out. I certainly would not object to all of us being in one bed in a 3 bedroom apartment.
Billy and I looked through the ads for apartments. I considered the Upper Eastside not so much to be across the park from my mother, but remembering my good times and various relationships, I wanted to enroll Billy in St. Paul's School in September and I wanted it to be walking distance for him. The Upper Eastside had gone through electrification for the modern incandescent lighting and all of that explosive gas lines had been torn out.
I asked Billy."What do you think if we get a telephone device?" Of course he liked the idea.
The Park started at 59th street and the Upper Eastside was to the East of 5th avenue. There were many residentials to choose from. Most of them were originally private homes like my mother's but since then, many were divided up into floor-through apartments.
I really didn't want to live much higher than 70th street because it was remote and I liked the excitement and class mixture of downtown. In contrast to my mother and her wealthy friends, I approved of class mixing. I thought it was very modern and democratic.
We scheduled appointments for 3 different places. Billy came along with me to give final approval. They were interesting but each one had a serious drawback of one kind or another. We decided to go home and select more for review before the week-end.
I had only been home for a short while when there was a knock on the door. It gave me a start at first because I thought he taller version of Peter, but it wasn't Peter. It was a local telegram from my mother's doctor. The message was brief.
Your mother, has died, come at once.
~
I wouldn't like to say that my mother's death was fortuitous but the truth was that I was expecting it. We were distant but politely cordial for years. She did not approve of me and I did not approve of her but we maintained a pleasant civility. We were worlds apart. It troubled her that I would dare to bring the works of Oscar Wilde into the house.
I brought Billy with me. I couldn't think of a reason not to. Peter had already seen the house before but not Billy and there would be no one there to wonder or disapprove. We changed clothes, putting on dark and somber attire. I left Peter a note and Billy and I headed uptown to my mother's townhouse.
There was no one there except the maid, the nurse who sat waiting to be paid and the undertaker, Mr. Schook. He was crestfallen because he expected to be commissioned to perform an elaborate service. I told him that I wanted a closed coffin and a small service just me and the boys and no other guests and no wake. I did not want to encourage any future entanglements with her ex-paramours or distant relatives offering me business opportunities.
I wanted Billy, Peter and myself to have the sense that we were entering a new modern era and a new life at, 325 West 76th Street.
I fantasized that maybe to old world with all its aristocratic pretentions and unwarranted privilege, went down in the dark Atlantic that night on the world's most modern conveyance, the Titanic.. I enthusiastically welcomed the new age.
~
I took Billy on a tour of the house from top to bottom. I symbolically awarded him the top floor and told him that he could do anything he like and that Peter would have to ask permission to enter. Billy excitedly ran from room to room.
I showed him the bedroom where I grew up and he looked with great interest at my playthings.
"Are we still going to look for an apartment?"
I laughed, "No, we're going to live here."
Billy looked at the globe of the earth that sat on my desk. "What's this thing?"
I explained it as he kept spinning it round. I stopped it and touched it where New York City was.
then looking at the globe, he frowned and then looked at me slightly confused.
He said, "I don't get it?"
I showed him Mr Robbie's little study next to my room . "How would you like this room for yourself?" Billy was already making himself at home on the quilted feather tick.
A dozen years before, it was Mr. Robbie who was hunched over me in this very bed. He was teaching me how to masturbate and now, it was all reversed with me over my Billy. Except, Billy needed no lessons and raised both legs granting me complete access to his bottom. My cock slid easily in and we christen Mr. Robbie's studio couch for the 1000th time.
When I resolved my urgent need, we dressed and continue our tour. Half way down the stairs my jizum chose that moment to pour out, soaking Billy's under wear creating a large wet spot in the seat of his pants.
I told him, "Not to worry, there's plenty of clothes your size in the trunks up in the attic."
~
Recollections 1904:
When I was 14 going on 15 and still a soft and tender boy, I started exploring the underground rail or the subways that were being built all over the city. Consciously I wanted use them to get quickly from here to there and 5 cents was a bargain. The subway made exploration to the far-reaches of the city effortless and I wanted to master the system. Unconsciously or perhaps just secretly, I was already searching the city for sordid and lugubrious encounters.
This was the realm of the sweaty working class. During the morning or evening rush you could not tell if it was day or night and but instead, a vision of Dante inferno. Punctuated with blasts of steam, the train itself was the ferry piloted by Charon taking us all to purgatory. Sweating masses of people, bumping and rubbing up against me, wild eyes, and faces moving with blind deliberation, roaming, loitering and watching. For myself, it was not a fearful vision of hell but was lewd, exciting and pornographic, causing in me an intense and almost constant erection that I could not repress.
The toilets imposed a strange allure in me. One time when I was a bit younger I saw a nigger boy performing oral sex a large well-built laborer. The image stayed in my mind and haunted me. They didn't seem to care that I was watching them and I didn't move until someone else came in. In a large station I saw dozens of men urinating in a group. Streams of urine splashed into the troth. One would leave only to have two more arrive. If I didn't look suspicious or out of place, I would have stood all day and watched.
At the outer reaches, in the smaller stations, there were less people but shocking events were just as frequent. It was here that an Italian laborer who spoke no English invited me to suck his large cock. I lowered myself and took it into my mouth He stroked my hair cooing sweet and beautiful Italian words.
The toilets stunk with the intense smell of ripe urine that was so strong that might burn the eyes. The troth and floor was usually cleaned using a fire hose turned on at full force and once done, it still smelled of urine and smegma. Why was this so alluring to me?
The City fathers said that they were concerned about morality but this was a deception. Class mixing is what they feared most. The poor, the laboring classes and the downtrodden joining with the educated would give rise to socialism and it was socialism that they feared more than anything.
Continued upon request:
jet2larkin at Jeemale dot kom---- (reinterpret)