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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)
I had an opportunity to see several obscene publications written in English that had been smuggled over from Paris, The stories, some with sketchy illustrations, had no greater purpose other than to describe lower class street life and document the author’s anonymous sexual encounters. I found them extremely interesting and it excited me to read about exploits and adventures of what was rarely ever spoken or even written into words.
It was that very same day, I went to our neighborhood stationary supply and purchased my first blank volume bound in dark green leather. I promised myself to record every ignominious and lugubrious event without exception or censor. I considered writing it in Latin but I gave up almost immediately and settled for the street English of my quarry.
When I got home, I sat at my writing desk and opened the book. All that follows is exactly what is written down. I can only tell some future reader that I have a loyal regard for the truth..
Journal entry: Monday, April 8th,1912.
It was a pleasant spring day in Manhattan and my usual time to idle away the afternoon in Madison Square Park. This park is one of the most beautiful meeting places in the city. At the South West corner of the park is the newly constructed Flatiron Building towering 22 stories, can you imagine? These tall modern buildings are called skyscrapers and they are sprouting up everywhere and being perfectly honest, the idea of an elevator scares me. If it's alright with you, I'd rather not.
But... this is not what I have come out to the park to see. I was looking for something a bit more interesting. From my bench, looking towards the curb, was a rough lad watering a horse that was hitched to a rag picker's wagon. He wore a cotton shirt and had suspenders that were holding up his crudely made and well worn suede pants. When he bent over tending to the horse's shoe, I looked carefully at his rear end and imagined him naked. The boy was perhaps 15 and was well into his growth spurt. He brushed his unruly hair out of his face and hung the bucket on the side of the wagon. Hoisting himself back up, he lit his clay pipe and taking the reins, prompted the horse to move. I decided that he was pleasant to look at but far too busy and responsible in carrying out his duties to stop and carry out some duties for me. I watched him trot off towards the Westside. I had seen him once before. It was on the other side of the park where I saw him, pants partly lowered, urinating into the gutter. Bold and bad boys in the city often pissed openly into gutters and alleys. I've always found the sight most enjoyable.
I can always see something good in the boys that roamed the city. Several times a day I would give a nickel or even a dime to a grateful boy. I did not however, like thieving, brutish or cruel boys. Boys that preyed on the less fortunate or the defenseless. I have learned to keep my coin purse on an inside pocket. These boys would grow up to be men that we all fear and are much better being sent off to war.
To my left, one bench down, sat a waifish boy looking unoccupied and useless. This was a trait I favor in boys or perhaps he was like me, relaxing and taking in the sights as I am doing... Not likely. Most boys are too full of energy. He was swinging his legs back and forth under his bench as if the running impulse was in a low idle but only for the moment.
Slight and skinny, he wore tight black cotton pants and black jacket and shoes that laced up high on the calf. The boy had a spindly pair of legs and hands tucked into his pockets that were most likely guarding a nickel or a few pennies. His untidy black hair was shorter than the wagon driver and less prominent because he wore a cap. Maybe it was only because he was young but his face was a bit like a girl's but rakish in a way only a boy could be.
I motioned to him and he cautiously approached me.
I smiled and said, "Would you like to run a small errand for me?.."
He must already be wise to the world because he looked skeptical.
Asked his name, he answered "William Broome."
"William, would you go across the street to the newsstand and fetch me a box of Fatima cigarettes?"
I gave him a quarter dollar which was more than enough to buy 5 boxes. "William, If you hurry back, you may keep the change."
When he lit up, I realized that I had made a friend. He returned and joined me on my bench as if we were already old friends. I opened my cigarettes box and offered him one. He quickly took it and waited for me to produce a match. I lit his and then mine, sat back and exhaled. William was amateurish in the way he puffed and handled his cigarette but it was clearly not his first. I gave him a proper introduction of myself saying that he could call me Edmund.
"William, how old are you?"
He told me that in another month, he'll be eleven. I was encouraged. His voice was high and more or less musical and it pleased me to hear him talk.
"William is awfully formal. What do you prefer being called, Is it William or Willy or Bill or Billy?"
He chirped, "My friends call me Billy."
"Its settled then, I shall call you Billy. Are you not in school today?"
He looked up at me with wide and innocent eyes. "Sometimes I just don't want to go. The nuns beat me because I misbehave."
I couldn't help but laugh. "Billy, your secret is perfectly safe with me."
There is nothing I like more than a boy who smokes a cigarette and who truant from school in a effort to sample the world.
"Billy, I have must go downtown to 10th street, would you like to keep me company this afternoon? I'm sure that I can pay you."
It pleased me to see how easily he had been drawn into my orbit. It was settled without discussion.
At the corner of the park, we climbed into a horse drawn, hansom cab and headed to West 10th street. I sat the middle of the seat pushing Billy closer to the window that was currently occupying his gaze.
"I've never been in hansom before. I usually travel by the EL (elevated train) or trolley. I run alongside and hop on and hop off before they can catch me." He could see that I approved.
I felt it necessary to test the worthiness my quarry so I placed my hand on the boy's narrow thigh. I wanted to gage his reaction. He could easily have recoiled by sliding even closer to the window or opened the door in an all out escape, but he did neither. Billy appeared to be even more relaxed and spread his legs a little wider making himself even more available to me. I gently felt around between for where his small penis might be and stroked it softly through his tight cotton pants. I was more than pleased and encouraged. He gave me what could only be called, a sly side glance followed with a boyish smile.
After being delivered on 10th Street we made our way to Fitz's tavern with the intention of paying my barkeep friend, Johnny, a quick visit and to have myself a brandy. I offered Billy one but suggested to the barkeep that he water it down a little.
In what could only be called amateurish bravado, Billy drunk it right down.
The barkeep looked at the small figure standing with both feet on the brass rail at the foot of the bar. "Learn that from your father did you?!"
It was followed with gales of raspy laughter coming from Johnny's congested lungs.
Just a little more for him, I'm not in the habit of getting children drunk.
Johnny laughed loudly again, "Well I am!"
Out on the street, I asked Billy if he'd like to come up to my flat. Being on the street, he had every opportunity to decline but he didn't. He hopped up the stairs along with me.
My flat was 3 floors up, providing a bird's eye view of the street below. Billy looked around and marveled at my small but tastefully decorated residence. Oriental rugs covered the floor and paintings and mirrors were hung from the walls. There was the ubiquitous gas light in the form of a multi-colored lantern that hung from the ceiling. I tried my best to give my abode a cultured and more importantly, an exotic appeal. There was a large divan covered with a many colored quilt that was pushed up along side of the windows. From that position you would have an excellent view of the street below.
On the sill next to the divan was a collection of treasured books along with my cherished opium pipe which I would forgo at the moment. I wanted a particularly stiff erection in order to carry out the plan that was unfolding before both of us.
in my usual manor, I lay out on my divan making myself at ease and comfortable. I invited Billy to join me and he did without hesitation. When he did and I felt him physically next to me, my cock began to erect in my pants immediately creating a obvious lump. With Billy at my side, the sight of my concealed cock became the central. It was trapped down my pant leg and trying to stick up. I had to re-adjust its position by pulling it up making it even more conspicuous than it had been before.
Billy drew himself even closer in sort of unconscious but intimate embrace. With uncommon familiarity he placed his hand on my stomach. It went lower until he was rubbing and stroking me through my pants.
I smiled and said, "Billy, your secrets are perfectly safe with me."
To show my approval I carefully slipped off his cap revealing the most beautiful black hair. He raised himself up a little and began to open my pants. It was readily apparent to me that Billy needed no instruction.
There was a struggle to free my cock and bring it into full view but as soon as he did, it stiffened up so completely that it caused my foreskin to retract on its own. Billy treated it as a fascinating object of wonder. He stroked my cock up and down causing my foreskin to conceal the source of my pleasure and then vanish down its shaft leaving me rudely exposed. It was at this point, without encouragement from me that he put as much of it as he was able, into his mouth.
The incident was now in play and it was destined towards certain resolution. He lay back in the well between my legs and began unlacing his shoe. I assisted him by doing the other. Off came his pants and then his jacket leaving him naked except for a thin undershirt. His penis was stiff as a twig and scrotum the size of a brown walnut. Billy quickly returned to the task at hand. He was bringing me to orgasm a little too quickly so I made an effort to reorient our passion.
"Billy, show me your bottom."
He climbed up on me with his rear up close, so close that I could spread him just a little and taste his hole. He had done it in a way that allowed him to continue sucking on my cock. My tongue slipped easily up into his rectum and it was then I knew that he had been had before,...many times before. The intensity of the image in my mind caused me to ejaculate without being able to delay it even for a moment.
On my part, there was a momentary pause. When I got up to re-organize myself I saw that Billy needed a tea towel. He didn't seem to mind but I had unintentionally decorated his face. I sat with him and cherished him while he jerked off. He lay across me and when his body stiffen up and then relaxed, it was over.
We dressed and became the man and boy we were when we first met in the park that afternoon...~
Notes on Billy's visit:
I brought him some wine and pistachio honey pastries. He quickly drunk the wine, I refilled his glass.
He told me he lived with his father, East of the Bowery on 3rd Street. His mother died in child birth several years before and now it was just he and his father.
"May I have another pastry." I wrapped two more in newsprint to take home.
Upon entering my flat, Billy was in a state of awe and wonder. "Do you live here all by yourself? Don't you have a wife and children?"
"No Billy I am not married and aside from you, I have no children at all and if I did, how would I be able to entertain you?"
He giggled at the thought of being one of my children.
It was late and he had to return home. To show my gratitude, I gave him a two and a half dollar gold piece. I thought he was going to expire right there on my oriental rug. He thanked me over and over.
I suggested that If he would like to visit me again, to mail me a letter one day in advance so that I would be expecting him. This instilled in him a certain deliberation about visiting me and I'd like to think that he might dream about what might happen the night before adding urgency and anticipation to our meeting.
Continued upon request:
jet2larkin at Jeemale dot kom-----(reinterpret)