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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)
A day spent with Peter:
When he first woke in the dream like early morning before it was even light, we were conscious of each other but maintained the solitude of repose for a little while longer. He was unwashed and his scent was intense and intoxicating. He was stiffly erect and I stroked and cherished him, allowing him to fall back into a dreamy state. We slept on for another hour or two, peaceful, content and safe from the worries of the world.
Over breakfast, Peter plowed through his syrup covered, wheat cakes.
"And this one bitch had a whole lifeboat for herself while people all around her were screaming and drowning in ice cold water. I bet she had an umbrella that she used to beat them back if they tried to climb on board. The Carpathia is due in today or tomorrow with about 400 survivors. I bet they'll all be wearin diamond crowns made out of jewels."
Peter snarled under his breath. "Mostly rich mucky mucks."
He looked up and narrowed his eyes at me, leveling his contempt for the upper classes. "Like you Edmund, you're rich and they'd save you on a velvet pillow and let some poor sod, his wife and little baby drown to death."
"Peter, that's unfair and it's unkind to me. I am not as rich as you imagine and I am very sympathetic to the working classes. I voted for TR and I occasionally I even vote socialist."
After breakfast we made our way cross-town to the Russian baths. The male side was populated with a lot of fat old naked Russian and Ukrainian men. This bath was utilitarian and did not approve of any amoral behavior. In spite of that, Peter was brazen and walked around with a 9 o'clock high erection. The Russians were Orthodox and the Ukrainians were Catholics and they did not approve sex unless it was hidden.
He came up to me and laughingly whispered in my ear, "There's a fat ass you can really sink your teeth into."
The approved uniform store was down up on 14th. They were ready-mades so we brought them with us to Brooks on the Westside on 23rd St. where I decided to let them do all the fittings.
"Peter McGuire, you'll be the best looking telegram delivery boy in New York City!"
At Brooks, Peter was fitted for a dark blue corduroy suit, shirts, socks, a new pair of shoes and under garments of which I owed to him for stealing his underpants twice before.
I keep the dirty underwear that he generously gifted to me, safely hidden. When I take them out and sniff them and it provokes a vivid image of a delicious boy.
We waited at Brooks while they completed the fitting on one of the two suites so that he might wear it out of the store. The rest to be delivered by Monday. He wisely kept his trap shut during my spending spree.
The new clothes transformed Peter into a man about town or perhaps a scion of a prominent family. He preened himself and strut around like the rake he is and was proud to the point of becoming almost obnoxious. In a single moment he became a garish character suitable for the vaudeville stage. I had to laugh.
Because of his formal attire, we were able to have lunch in a finer restaurant where I introduced Peter to the maitre d as the Duke of Brunswick here on a world tour. Peter was beside himself with good humor, so much so that I was afraid that he'd burst. I made sure there was plenty of wine.
During the course of the meal he talked me into going out to the Slide down on the Bowery in the later evening. According to him, there would be all sorts of crazy festivities and it doesn't even begin until after 10 at night.
"They'll be plenty of your kind of boys there."
At the moment, my interest was squarely on Peter but I agreed to go just to placate him. He just wanted to go out to show off his new clothes. I couldn't blame him?
It was late afternoon when we got back to my flat and there was some uneasy tension between us. Peter was used to being the cock of the walk but he knew he had been plied for sex and the bill was coming due. To be beholding to anyone was an uncommon role for him. There were certain things that he would do or allow me to do. However, he did not allow himself to be fucked up the behind. He didn't mind if I made all the moves just as long as he was dominant. It was his way of protecting his maturing masculinity.
Undressing him was met with some resistance not on moral grounds or modesty but I think that he didn't want to part with his new clothes. "Don't worry Peter, I will put your clothes here on the chair."
I would be his slave and to submit to whatever would embolden him. It was easy because Peter and I shared the same interest. We were both interested in Peter.
Once naked, he lay like a supple cat responding to each stroke and pet. He erected stiffly exposing a firm round scrotum that lead back to his boy hole. He was well aware of my preoccupation with his bottom and made it easily available and he'd grin down at me when I disgraced myself. Conversely, he demonstrated little or no interest in me. This was usual for him and I didn't mind. However this time would prove to be different.
His passivity took a different turn.
In a whispering voice he said, "Do it."
I wasn't sure what he meant.
Looking up at me, he pulled both legs back making his hole entirely accessible.
He said in a uncommonly soft voice. "You know what I mean, fuck me. Just this one time."
It was an invitation I could not refuse.
To make it easy and hopefully pleasing to him, I used liberal amounts of mineral oil to make my cock slick and his rectum easy for penetration. I was gentle and took my time.
It was not loud or urgent but he grunted and groaned at the depth of my penetrations. "Peter, are you alright?"
"I am, it's not really that bad. Keep doin it only go a little faster."
Because he was not accustomed, the mineral oil proved to be essential.
Not wanting it to end, I went in and out in a predictable and measured rate and only as much as he would tolerate. He seemed to be enjoying it and appeared to be getting increasing pleasure from it. His cock was absolutely rigid with both balls clutched at its base. He was stroking himself as I fucked. I imagine that this image would shock most people but I found our coupling very beautiful. He suddenly became boisterous and letting go of his cock, it strained up and squirted onto his belly. I felt his bottom clutching and squeezing my cock hard and I too let go synchronizing our resolution.
Breathing hard, we lay together for a while. After a bit, Peter disengaged, sat up and looked around the room. "You're the only one I'd let fuck me just as long as you never tell anyone."
Of course, I agreed to his generous terms.
Continued upon request: Is anyone even reading this?
jet2larkin at Jeemale dot kom---- (reinterpret)