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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)

Early Recollections:  1895:

He was a house guest visiting my mother and I didn't notice much more than that until the day of his departure.  My mother had to go to a social meeting and Lucian was going to catch a train back to Connecticut.  No one was home except the house maid and the cook. 

He extended his hand to me. "It was a pleasure to meet you Edmund but I must be going."

I looked up at him.  It was a peculiar way to treat a 6 year old.

Holding my hand he pulled me close and lowered himself to my level. "Let's have a look."

He opened my short pants and pushed them down and out of the way. "You know, Mothers neglect these things and sometimes we men must check on them ourselves."

Exposing my penis he tugged and pulled at it pushing my foreskin up and down.  It felt strange and I didn't feel anything at first until it began to rise up and become stiff. 

He looked into my face and said,  "You seem to be in good working order..  Edmund, you should do this yourself and be sure to make it stand up like a good little soldier every day without fail."

The carriage was out front ringing its bell.  Lucian pulled up my pants and buttoned me up. "Now remember, this is just between us men, ok.? I hope to visit again before high summer."

He placed a dime into my hand.  Remembering it years later, it wasn't the dime that had significance but the idea of what had happened that cemented the lasting quality of this memory. 

I didn't know it then but that would be the last time I would see him.   Lucian was my mother's gentleman friend,.. at least he was for a little while.




Claude Shannon:

On the front page of the New York World:

President Taft signed legislation creating the United States Children's Bureau as an agency within the United States Department of Commerce and Labor in an effort to eradicate child labor.

I certainly approve of that unless they are working for me. 

There were neglected errands I had to attend to.  One was to the bank to retrieve household money in the form of silver and gold coin.  I will not use paper money, I don't trust it and it is dirty to the touch.

I visited Arthur, my neighborhood Druggist who has been trying to entice me with these new heroin pills by Bayer.  They take almost a half an hour to take effect and it makes it difficult to control the desired effect.  I prefer my opium pipe.  Keeping an eye on mischievous boys is difficult enough. 

The druggist told me about these new hypodermic syringes that are coming in next week, only a $1.50 for the set with 4 extra needles.  He told me about all the benefits of intravenous injection but for the moment, I remain skeptical.

I visited the tavern to find another interesting boy who had absolutely nothing to occupy his time.  He was tall, slender and gangly.  He had very blue eyes and a mop of slightly curly blond hair.   I bought him a glass of beer in exchange for a chat.  When he spoke I detected the remnants of an Irish accent that he seemed to be trying to repress.  He had a brilliant and engaging smile that drew me to him.

"I've lived here all my life, in fact, I was born not far from here."

I answered his comment. "So was I, but further uptown."

When he received his glass of beer, he put out his hand to give me a shake of thanks. "My names Claude, what's yours?"

What is it about these delicious adolescents like my new acquaintance, Claude?  They can be so smelly but have not yet gone rancid.  Strong sweat and slightly oily skin could indicate a bottomless well of spermy, squirting liquor.  At 16, he caught on to my interests and discretely displayed to me the shape of something long that was hanging down his pant leg.  What closed the deal was the offer of wine and the fact that my flat was only a block away.

I brought him a glass of wine and in a casual way, Claude sprawled himself out on my divan.  He revealed to me his amiable nature by spreading his legs in a friendly but blatant invitation.  I removed his shoes and once done, there could be no doubt as to the purpose of this visit.  He immediately took out his long cock that had a droopy and odiferous foreskin and began to masturbate. I would expect that this was a daily occurrence that he didn't mind sharing.  

"Claude, do you not have a girlfriend?"

He laughed. "What woman would risk the lot on a poor boy like me and besides, I'll not be marrying an another Irish or want any part of the Virgin Mary and that devil church. My father came here to be an American and that's what I am."

Curiously, his Irish brogue had suddenly become thicker during this exchange. I accepted Claude in whatever way he wanted.

I commented, “Well, Claude is a French name..”

By now we were up close to each other in the act of reciprocal masturbation. I didn't want to risk him cumming before I got my tongue up his 16 year old, parted rear end, so I helped him remove his pants. 

Poor boy had no underwear. "Poor me!".  

His cock was not weighty but it was long and narrow like a garden snake.  He'll be the master when he is 30 but I'd rather have him now.  He had little or no interest in my cock but expressed a desire to fuck me and I willingly accepted. Lubricating his stiff cock with gobs of his bubbly and slippery spit indicated to me that he was already accomplished in executing this dirty deed. He mounted me from behind with the energy of a stray dog, he fucked me very hard and fast.  Unfortunately it didn't take him very long.  When he withdrew his still bobbing cock, he presented it to me for closer examination.  There is something holy and sacred about sucking a stiff cock that has just been stuck up your own ass. 




Early Recollections: 1898

From what I knew about my father, which wasn't much, was that he was intelligent, handsome and that he made more than enough money to support my mother and me after their marriage broke up.  Divorce was impossible so they just lived apart.  

We stayed in the house on 79th street.  It was a 5 story townhouse only a block from the park and the Hudson River. It had always reminded me of a fantasy castle I had seen in picture books except that it was tightly sandwiched between other townhouses.

My mother and I lived on the 2nd and 3rd floor. The maid and cook lived on the 1st floor next to the kitchen and pantry. There were 2 floors of the house that were unfurnished and completely unlived in.  They would serve as my naked fantasy retreat. Once in school it was here that I would lure school mates for the purpose of bodily experimentations.

My Mother was highly feminine, flamboyant and impossibly difficult. It is an explanation enough for my Father to put geographical distance between us.  Her whole life was a show of what she thought other people thought was important. She was full of pretentious grandeur and myopic celebrity.  Like a Siamese cat, I was her ever present familiar. When I was too young to protest, she dressed me to match her outlandish outfits and drug me around as if I was her toy poodle.

Fortunately by the time I started school, she had quieted down and taken an alcoholic lover. It was then that she finally let me begin to lead a normal life. Of course all of these early excesses had a lifelong lasting effect on me.

Early on, I had developed two consuming passions.  One was books and the other was masturbation.  Looking back I've decided that they both enriched my life and I wouldn't have had it any other way.  




It was afternoon when I heard a knock at my door.  After inquiring, I opened it to see a uniformed Peter shifting himself from one foot to the other as if he had to pee.  He had on his hat and his shoulder bag. 

Pushing past me, he said, Edmund, I've only a half an hour." 

He tossed his bag and pulled his pants and underwear down to his ankles and laid out on my divan and began to masturbate.  I started to remove his shoes so that I could tug off his pants,

"Edmund! I don't haven't the time! make me cum!" 

I'm not sure if it is a wonder or a disappointment for someone to squirt all over the front their jacket in less than 90 seconds, but who am I to argue?

After wiping off his jacket, still leaving very conspicuous wet spots, he sighed and lit up a cigarette.

"What time is it!"

I told him he still had 15 minutes and he settled back down heaving a sigh.

We were quiet for a moment until he said,  "Edmund, do you go to church?"

I think I laughed out loud.  "A jaded old wanker like myself?  A reprobate and a cocksucker as you have called me? They wouldn't allow me in the door for fear the church would catch fire."

Peter was more serious than usual, "If you went to church, don't you think that God would give you a break?"

This line of conversation was something new. "All heaven and hell is right here on Earth. Let me ask you something Peter, do you go to church?"

He was thinking about it and then he looked up at me with the same feigned innocent boy expression that drew me to him in the first place.

His seriousness collapsed into a stupid smile.. "No."  It was followed with his half high and half croaking  laugh.

Now he was giggling. "So you don't go to church on Sunday?"

"No Peter, I don't."

"The reason I asked is that I have Sunday off and I was thinking that maybe I could visit you this coming Saturday evening and we could go to the Slide over on the Bowery and then I could stay with you all night and then just lay in bed all the next day."

"What would we do in bed all day?"

He smiled and said, "Same thing we'd be doing all night long."

I nodded with approval. "Ok."

He laughed and we went onto other things until he had to leave.

Continued upon request:

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