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Back in the 1950s

Part 3

Mostly we used the old super's apartment on Thursday nights, after the Troop meeting. Kids didn't get picked up in cars back then. We just walked home, and if you got home twenty minutes or half an hour later than you were expected, nobody panicked. All you had to say was, "The meeting ran a little late, Ma."

After a while, they just got to figure that the meeting ended at nine instead of eight-thirty, and you didn't have to say anything. Poor Richie got left out of our after-meeting boy-orgies because his father was always there to drive him home. Freddy's father was Assistant Scoutmaster, so he mostly missed out too. Usually, there were six or seven of us who stopped by for some mutual jerking and sucking. I think it was Kevin who commented about how "another hand" made it so much better.

Another sign of the times was that none of us thought we were "queers," which was what we called guys who liked other guys. Back in the fifties, they hadn't invented "gays" yet. We sang a song that went "One finger one thumb, keep moving, and we'll all be happy and gay," and there was no sense of irony. I guess they'd invented irony by then, but there wasn't a lot of it around.

Me, I knew I wasn't queer because I still was feeling up Linda most weekends, no matter how much cocksucking I was doing Thursday nights. Honestly, I don't think we even thought cocksucking was something "queers" did. "Queers" were just guys who swished around acting like girls. Back then, I think a guy might have been in the closet and not even known it. (Well, probably not, if he was a grown-up.)

I totally loved Mark's ass, and I think feeling it up while I sucked him was even better than sucking him. One Thursday night I was sitting in one of those old kitchen chairs sucking Mark and playing with his ass while Jeffy was sucking me, when it occurred to me that it might be fun to turn Mark around and diddle his dick with my fingers while I rubbed my face around his ass. It was very nice, indeed. I thought about what he'd said about me fucking him as I pushed my nose and my lips up between his cheeks, but the Thursday night orgy didn't seem like the right place to do it.

Then my life changed again.

..........

My father worked long hours, so I mostly saw him on weekends, asleep in front of some ball game on our old black and white TV. They had color by then, but we sure couldn't afford it. Then my mother decided I was old enough so that she could switch from a part-time to a full-time job, so we could have more money.

That meant the apartment was mine, from when I got home from school around three-thirty until she got home at six. (My father rarely made it home before seven-thirty or eight.) So I started making after-school dates -- with boys.

Mark was the first. He told his mother I was going to help him with algebra. His mother thought that was very nice of me. When we got to my room, I pulled him down on my bed and hugged him, rubbing my cheek against his. Kissing never even occurred to me. Kissing was something you did with girls -- in my case, with Linda. It occurred to him, though, because he kissed me hard, on the side of my face. It felt pretty nice.

"Do you still want me to fuck you like a girl?" I asked.

"Uh huh," he replied.

"Then get naked," I told him. This was something entirely new for us, because all the stuff we'd done before was with most of our clothes on and our Scout pants down around our ankles. Even when Jeffy was blowing me at Scout camp, we still had our underwear mostly on. It was very exciting. I went into the bathroom to get the jar of Vaseline, and stripped my clothes off while I was there.

I went back to my bedroom wearing just my socks. Mark wasn't even wearing socks. He looked so, well, fragile -- so vulnerable laying there on my old blue bedspread -- that I was close to changing my mind. His skin was so white, and so smooth, and there was practically no sunburn line left over from summer. His arms and legs were slim, and his bright blue eyes glittered under his wavy brown hair. His stiff little peg of a penis had plumped up a bit since summer camp. It looked delicious.

I kind of hopped over to the bed, pulling off my socks as I went. It felt stupid having socks on when he was entirely naked. I dropped the jar of Vaseline, and had to pick it up off the area rug. I was feeling like a total jerk, but he was just staring at me with those amazing blue eyes.

I sat down on the edge of the bed. He kind of rolled onto his back and stretched, and I realized I didn't just want to fuck him, I wanted to make out with him, much more than I'd ever wanted to make out with Linda. It hit me that I didn't even much like Linda, except that the girls had decided we were going to be a couple. Boys let girls boss them around much too much.

"I want to be your girlfriend," he murmured. "Let me be your girlfriend."

"You're a boy," I said, needlessly.

"I don't care," he answered. "I really want to be your girlfriend."

There was nothing more to say. He would be a much better girlfriend than fucking (actually, non-fucking) Linda, and not much more flat-chested either. I lay down, kind of halfway on top of him, grabbed his beautiful ass in my right hand while the fingers of my left tangled themselves in his hair, and pressed my lips against his.

When I made out with Linda, we never ever opened out mouths because I suppose we both thought that would have been icky. With Mark, though, I really wanted to taste his tongue, so I tried pushing mine between his lips. Richie had told us about it, and said it was called "Frenching." Mark resisted a little, until I told him that was what boyfriends and girlfriends do. Once we got started, though, he seemed to like it.

I managed to get the jar of Vaseline from the night table and get some on my middle finger. Then I reached between his legs and rubbed it around his hole. He got all tightened up the first time I tried to push my finger up inside him. "Sorry," I said. "Am I hurting you?"

"Just surprised me," he replied. "Do it again. Every turd I ever shit is bigger than your finger, and most of them are bigger than your dick too. You're gonna fuck me today, and I'm gonna be your girlfriend forever."

I have to admit, that even sounded a little weird to me, and probably would have sounded weird even to Richie, but I was horny as only a thirteen-year-old can be horny. He didn't flinch at all when I went to push the finger up again, and the further I pushed it up, the better he seemed to like it. I would have liked to suck his cute little dick while I was doing it, but girlfriends don't have dicks, so I figured I'd just play along with the game.

After a minute or two, he pulled my finger out of his ass, flipped onto his knees and elbows, and said, "Do it now!"

For some reason, I didn't want to plug him while he was in that position, not after we'd been hugging and rubbing and Frenching like he was a real girl.

"No, sweetie," I told him, "not like that. That's how dogs do it. Roll over on your back again, and hold your legs up, and I'll be able to stick it right into your little girlfriend pussy and kiss you all over your beautiful face at the same time."

I don't know how I thought of that, but I did, and it worked. It worked just fine. I greased up my straining boner, lined it up with his hole, and slowly pushed it all the way up.

"I love you," he whispered. Now that was really weird, but I didn't have time to think about it just then. I was already humping pretty hard, building up to the most powerful cum of my young life.

(Well, I know that episode never happened, but as I get a little more senile, I may not be so sure. Honestly, how much difference is there between our real lives and our imaginations? Comments and criticisms to heedon@tormail.org will be appreciated.)