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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)

July 1914:

Billy was enrolled in St Paul's School and having a fine time. Before school started I went to see the Headmaster for a private meeting and I explained to him that I wanted Billy to be treated with care.  Without being specific, I told him that Billy had come from a traumatic situation that was not of his doing and that if there was any disciplining that needed doing to please refer it back to me.  Billy liked the fathers and the seminarians far better than the nuns at the Catholic school.  He had begun to take his studies seriously and was excelling in most of his subjects except, Latin.   I spent a great deal of time with him and he was growing up to be a fine boy.  He preferred my bed to his own and I grew to love his inquisitive chatter and cuddling warmth all around me.  Billy was revealing himself to be a rare and beautiful gem.    

At 16 and a foot taller, Peter has turned into quite the ladies man.  I allowed him to take my last name to give him class entre and stature.  He would see this lady and that lady until it came time to commit to an engagement and then, rake that he is, he'd move on to someone new, causing any number of broken hearts along Central Park West.

He confided in me.”You know I have taken our adopted Uncle Myles' advice and avoid the proper hole in favor of the others. It gives them quite a shock.”

Not wanting to lose him I supported this modus operandi. 

But in spite of all of his public show, in the wee hours, the desire and the urge would strike him and he would crawl naked into my bed.  He'd whispers softly in my ear. "Fuck me, please fuck me."


I received a letter from Myles. He was in England on an extended stay with relatives.  He invited me to visit him during the summer next and suggested that I should bring the boys with me.  A month later, the war started between Germany, France and Britain. 


I kept the West 10th street apartment without mentioning it to the boys.  It was my private place to go, a place to class mix and meet randy gutter boys.  On this day it was going to be a choice between meeting some boy that needed tending and if that fails, a session with my opium pipe for an extended revere and rest.

He had beautiful, ringletted hair, dark expressive Mediterranean eyes and a warm olive completion.  He was small and at this time of year, in bare feet.  He was the son of the Italian fruit vendor on 7th avenue.  I watched while his father chastised him and picked at every little thing that he did wrong.  He was none the worse for wear because when his father was pushing him and scolding, he saw me looking at him.  He gave me a mischievous smile even in the middle of his father's bullying.  Sometimes when it got too much, there would be boisterous exchange in the middle of the street spoken in loud Italian and then the boy would run off.  His father would calm down and be grateful for his return.  I would show up on their corner every couple of days and watch without the father noticing that his boy was being seduced right out from under him.  Sometimes I would inspect the fruit and pick out a ripe peach. The boy would hold out his hand for two pennies and I would drop in an extra quarter. Like Peter, he was a bit on the cagey side but then, I like that sort of thing.   He smiled at me and took it without causing a stir.  

One day there was a loud commotion between the boy and his father and the boy ran across 7th avenue towards 10th street.  His father could not leave his fruit stand unattended, but I had no such impediment... I found him just round the corner and with just a casual nod and toss of the head in my general direction he followed me up to my flat.  It really was like the old days when I was carefree.

He called himself Joey and not Joseph and although he knew Italian his English was good.  He lay out on my bed and allowed himself to be undressed and then without pause, began stroking himself.  He was free of worry or any sort of apprehension.  I plied him with wine and sugary treats.  Once he was naked and aroused, I introduce my own erected cock.  My guess is that he had an older brother, perhaps more than one, or an uncle because he was familiar and at ease with this sort of play.  His bottom had a rich scent and was sweet to taste and once I got down into it, I spontaneously ejaculated.  Wrapping his arms around my neck, he hung his length on me and looking up, he promised to come back.  A half dollar later and he was gone.

He kept that promise because when I'd walk by, he would run off, careful not to expose the connection between the two of us and we would meet round the corner.  If he couldn't, he shrug his shoulders and shake his head, no, as if to say, "Maybe tomorrow."

Is it possible that the boys living in my home were domesticating me in the manner that a woman might?  Can I really believe that?  I love them both but they were all clean, starched and had become wonderfully respectable.  Was I like all men who secretly defy the serenity of the home and the image of a family man by searching the dark streets at night for some ignominious encounter when I already had two lovelies in my own bed?  Or was I protecting them from my darker side? 

Well with charming Billy away at school all day and Peter going off on holiday with the Curtis family and their daughter, what was I to do?  Sit at home and look at the maid?


January 1915:

The Baker Electric was gone and as promised, after Christmas, it was time to research the purchase of a new automobile and since I had no mechanical sense whatsoever, the job fell to Peter.  At first he approached me with the Metz Auto.  It was manufactured in Brockton Massachusetts.  

"Peter, this auto only has 2 seats how can you be so selfish?"

Surprised that I would notice such an insignificant detail, he said, "They have others."

By the time he got a catalog from the company he had already changed his mind.

Sometime later Peter excitedly approached me with a picture of an automobile.

"It is the 1914 Marmon and it has 6 cylinders and 70 horsepower!"  

I didn't know what one cylinder was let alone six.

"Edmund, this one only has 2 seats but there is another model with a large comfortable upholstered seat in the back where you can sit."

I blinked. He was already doing seating assignments.

"Well, you and Billy can sit back there and I will sit up front with ____" (whoever his current girlfriend might be.)

"So who said you are going to be the driver?"

Peter looked slightly hurt. "You did Edmund, don't you remember?"

The model Peter ordered was going to cost $2500. and would take more than month to deliver.


Often in the morning, while still in bed and when Peter is at his randiest, he would subject me to all manner of erotic and sexual misuse.  Billy did not escape similar treatment. One time Billy was tied up naked at the bedpost and Peter declared that a large pot was being prepared in the kitchen full of boiling water and that he was to be stuffed with cranberries, cooked and eaten for supper. Peter savored the power and Billy giggled uncontrollably. He loved Peter and enjoyed every minute. Together they would revert to a pair of naked and uncivilized monkeys, marking the bedsheets with urine. When it was not Billy's turn at being the victim, he would be employed by Peter in implementing his humiliating edicts on me.  Peter's courtroom where he presided as judge and jury was rubber stamp, kangaroo court where all the accused were found guilty. These games was nothing short of delicious. Peter was still growing and was slender and extremely trim. He lorded over Billy and I and fancied himself the man, the supreme ruler, carrying out punitive punishments while naked and stiffly erect.  It was this that inspired him and I who encouraged him.


In March, I booked passage on the Cunard Line for our trip to England.  It was high time the boys and I would see the world.  I booked very early to insure a good cabin.  The War was still on and cable traffic from the continent had been curtailed and I was worried since I hadn't heard from Myles.  I was hoping for an end or a pause in hostilities.  There were the fears about the North Atlantic and the memory of the Titanic still that still haunts my memory but there have been considerable advancements and regulation since then.  A more modern hazard was that there are U-boat wolf packs attacks merchant ships but they never attack passenger ships whose profile is easily recognizable.

Continued upon request:

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