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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:  The Latin Tutor, 1898


I had just turned 9 and even though I was already going to St. Paul's Episcopal Boys School down on 74th Street, my mother hired a tutor to supervise my education.  

She had a habit of looking down at me from the top of the stairs.  "Edmund, I want you to put all your things in order because Mr. Townsend arrives this coming week."

Mr. Robert Townsend was commissioned through an agency by my mother to come all the way from the British Isles just to make sure I had a foundation in Latin and Roman History.  All this sounded very formal and highfalutin but the truth was that she wanted a babysitter so that she could go off and not give me a thought.  Previously she would leave me with cook and the maid of whom she regarded as simple and utterly stupid.  I was not entirely sold on the idea of a tutor.. I liked being free and largely unsupervised. 


It was late at night when I heard a commotion downstairs. The front door slammed and there was all manner of trudging and the thumping of luggage.  Then I heard something I hadn't heard in the house for a long time.. the voice of a man.  


The new tutor was there at breakfast sitting stiffly at the table with my mother. Cook served up the meal.

"Edmund, This is Mr. Townsend. I hope that you will be on your best behavior and assist Mr. Townsend in becoming accustom to New York."

He was very tall and skinny.  I remember that he had a prominent Adam's apple that rose up and down when he talked or drank his juice. Every once in a while, his dark wavy hair fell into his face causing him to brush it away almost pulling off his wire glasses each time.  He was very nervous and awkward.  At that time he appeared humorless and unmovable.  The prospects didn't look good. 

There was a large walk-in linen closet next to my room that carpenters refitted into a small study and bedroom for Mr. Townsend.  It was my mother's intention that if I was ill or needed something in the night, Mr. Townsend would be there and not the just the maid or cook.

Preliminary to our studies consisted of Mr. Townsend asking me to conjugate Latin verbs and  having me explain to him who Tiberius was and where Hadrian's was located and more importantly, why it was there.  

I didn't know anything. The knowledge of this seem to worry him as if the task was overwhelming or insurmountable. He appeared so nervous and tense that I felt bad for him.

In the beginning he was short with me and called me an idiot.  I responded by asking him who won the Civil War.. He stopped and had to think very hard because he didn't really know.  It was plain to see that neither one of us had any choice in the matter so we gradually developed a rapport out of necessity.

Only a few days after Mr. Townsend's arrival, my mother announced that she was going to Europe for a an entire month....What a coincidence. 

The evening before her departure the three of us had an after dinner gathering where we discussed any problems that might arrive in her absence.

She had a list. Doctors, lawyers tradesmen and who at the police station would take a special interest and many other important details.  The maid came in with a bottle of fine wine and even I got a glass.

By his own efforts, the bottle of wine was quickly emptied and Mr. Townsend began to loosen up.  It was also an unexpected surprise when he stood up and began to sing in a high and pure voice. My mother and I listened.  My mother approved considering his performance polite entertainment. I wasn't sure what to think..


The morning after my Mother's departure Mr. Townsend entered my room and commanded me to rise and dress.

"You are going to have lessons all day. We have a lot of catching up to do!"    

He tried to pull the covers off of me and I clung to them with a death grip.  He tried harder and it ended up being a full scale struggle.

"You know boys that do this in England get canned and end up being very sorry, very sorry indeed!"

I know that he saw my miniature erection sticking up out of my night clothes. Both the maid and cook had seen it, why should Mr. Townsend be spared?

After breakfast we settled down and the tedious lessons began. Since St Paul's School had let out for the summer season it looked like a dreary summer ahead.  I had to commit to memory and recite again and again.


Over and over and over again.   I was hating it. 

"Mr. Townsend, Latin is a dead language, why must I learn it?"

He look angrily at me.  "One more time, Master Edmund!"

Towards the end of the day, the maid brought him a glass of wine and he began to relax.  He also decided the teach me Roman history by just telling me stories about the emperors and their despicable behavior. This proved to be more agreeable to both of us and I found myself beginning to enjoy his company.  I took it upon myself to cuddle up next to him as if he was a parent or a big brother.  This seem to make him uncomfortable or ill at ease but I persisted and he gradually got use to it.   

By the end of the week both the maid and the cook approached Mr. Townsend with a conspiratorial proposition. They want to go home to visit with their families until just a few days before my Mother was due to return.  They used Mr. Townsend as a way to see if I would go along with it.  I did on the condition that I would have to study only 4 days a week and not 6."

He reluctantly agreed making him a guilty party within a conspiracy. Right from the start it proved that I now had some sway over him.. 


Once alone in the house my tutor became more human and approachable. I was enjoying the company of a man, something I had been deprived of most of my life.  Every evening he would go down to the cellar and return with a dusty old bottle of wine and we sit on his bed in his study and talk casually.  

I asked, "When Caligula did all those terrible things didn't people hate him?"

"Yes they did hate him but more than that, they were afraid of him because he was the emperor.  In the end it was his own Praetorian Guard who murdered him."

I giggled and said, "I guess he had it coming."

This struck him as funny and we both started giggling.

After only one or 2 glasses, he would go through a strange transformation.  

"I can't go on calling you Mr. Townsend it's too formal. You know this is America."

He had become languid and serine.  He starred at me arching one eyebrow slightly. 

There was a long pause and then, "You can call me Robbie....But never around your mother.  If she is around, be sure to always call me Mr. Townsend.  And what shall I call you, Master Eddie?"

I smiled and said, "Yeah, I like that."

When I asked him how old he was he told me that he was 20 years old and that he was glad to be out of England and that he hoped to stay in America and never go back.

As we talked, he got drunker and drunker.  I didn't mind because he became friendlier and even affectionate.  When he fell asleep I returned to my room and prepared for bed.

Before I had gotten to sleep a dark figure came stumbling into my room. It was Mr. Robbie in a state of complete drunkenness.  He climbed into bed with me and at first he seemed to just go back to sleep.  I immediately took to his warm body in my little bed and gravitated towards the shelter of it.  Soon he was pulling up my night shirt, stroking my chest and belly and manipulating my penis.  Whatever apprehension I had had evaporated once I became stiffly erect.  I reveled in the physical attention and It was then that I was initiated into the wonder of mystical lust.  When he took my penis into his mouth I was introduced to an even more rare and exciting experience.

Many men and boys I've talked to had their first ejaculation in solitude or in the middle of a dream sleep.  My first experience was with my Latin tutor and it left my head spinning leaving my direction in life forever altered.

The next morning Mr. Townsend was back to normal if even a bit crankier than usual.  He didn't seem to remember a thing from the night before,.. However I remembered all of it and vowed to do whatever it took to provoke its reoccurrence. It didn't take me long to realize that the key ingredient to Mr. Robbie's undoing was wine or alcohol. 

Years later I would learn how unscrupulous men would ply youths with drink just to get them to pull down their pants and here I am, at the tender age of 9, a youth who was taking advantage of a man's weakness for wine in an effort to get my penis played with.   It tickled me no end and all but destroyed his relationship with me as a serious tutor.

Once he had a glass of wine, I could tell by a soft tone in his voice or sly glance of the eye when the time was right.  I felt free to climb into his lap and embrace him.  This would disarm him so completely that resistance was useless.  He would search my pants for my erected penis.

It was only several days into it that I became curious as to what lay between Mr. Robbie's legs.  It was fueled by several brushes and touches on something that must be very large and hard confined in his pants.  In my darkened bed room I coaxed him to open his pants and reveal it to me.  Once I got my hands on it I couldn't let go of it.  How could a large erected cock be so incredibly intoxicating?

As much as I was able, I made an effort to do for him everything he did to me with slightly different results.   I would reach a point where my young lust would cause my whole body to contract and expand in exquisite pleasure while Robbie's enlarged cock would spew a viscous, jelly mess.  All our studies had been set aside and every day was a sexual advancement over the last.  In the month of my mother's holiday, I received the core foundation of my adult sex life. 

Years later, tucked away in the attic, I found a trunk he had left behind.  In it were letters meant to be mailed home.  Most of them went something like this...

From the first time I saw Edmund I knew that I would fall hopeless in love with him.

When my mother returned home she discovered that most of the rare wines collected by my father were missing and all of the grocery money was gone. Robbie was fired and was he gone before I could say good-bye.  I was too self involved and I don't think that boys really fall in love but to say that I didn't miss Mr. Robbie would be a terrible understatement.        

Continued upon request:

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