Date: Wed, 21 Mar 2018 12:11:34 -0700
From: vereinington@secmail.pro
Subject: Hollywood Hills Hideaway (Gay / Adult Youth)

The following story is fictional. None of the events, characters,
businesses or streets are real. Please do not read if you are under 18 or
if the content is illegal in your jurisdiction.  Please donate to Nifty.
Email me if you liked the story or want to comment.

JUNE 1973

"Denny said you sucked his boner," said Luke, stating it as a matter of
fact, as if he were describing what Denny, my 14 year old roommate, had
for lunch that day. I was sitting at the desk in my den and had swiveled
toward the door as he entered. Bright light filtered through the the
floor-to-ceiling windows which offered a clear view of the Sunset Strip,
several hundred yards down the hill below my house.

Luke was only 11, but I had been around enough boys to know that sexual
talk and braggadocio occurred even among kids as young as nine or ten. My
self-imposed red-line, never to fool around with a kid who hadn't entered
puberty, was quickly scuffed out as soon as Luke pulled down his swimsuit
to show me his erect cock. I'd seen him naked and even semi-erect when he
was playing in the pool with the other kids, but I'd never seen his staff
at full attention. It was larger than I expected. Some boys' cocks and
balls attain teenage size before they even start growing pubic hair;
others start growing hair above their tiny, boy-sized dicks and then get
their genital growth spurt later. Luke was definitely the former.

His light blonde hair had gotten longer in the past six weeks. He was
trying to look more like the older boys and less like a little
neighborhood kid, which in my mind he still was - until he pulled his
trunks down. Luke had developed a nice tan from spending almost every day
in my pool with the boys. Despite his occasional foray into skinny dipping
with the others, he still had a creamy white band just below his belly and
above his upper thighs. Right in the middle of that pale area, jutting out
and slightly upward, his erect cock pointed directly at my face.  What was
I to do?

The early 1970s were a singular time in the western world as society cast
out the old sexual rules and adopted an anything goes attitude - at least
that's how the media portrayed it. In truth, most Americans were still
stuck in a 1950s and early 1960s mindset, but they believed everyone else
was partaking in the abundant free love of the hippy era. The Stonewall
Riots had thrust gay people and gay liberation into the media, but we
homosexuals were still seen as deviants by all but the most forward
thinking and edgy fringes of civilization. Being gay was not a secret one
divulged lightly. People were disgusted and wanted to keep their distance
from us filthy perverts, though most people fully believed they'd never
even met a fag in real life. The revulsion directed at males who wanted to
partake in revolting sexual acts with other males made little distinction
about the ages of those participating. A gay dude sucking the cock of a 30
year old and a gay dude sucking the cock of a 14 year old were virtually
the same thing.

But an 11  year old?  Even I had limits. A 14 year old, with his pulsing
cock in my mouth diligently trying to expel a juicy load from his
overfilled balls, seemed like a piece of nature's puzzle that fit
perfectly in place. Luke's boner looked a lot like the other horny boners
I'd sucked, just without the hair. He was cut, as were almost all American
boys back then, and a stout five inches. I looked him in the eyes; he bit
his lip as if trying to hide his eagerness. His boyish, symmetrical face
was framed by his new, longer hair which fell to just above his shoulder
blades. It was lighter, straighter and finer than an adolescent's hair,
and his skin was smoother and more blemish free than a teenager. It made
him seem clean and innocent.  The only flaw to his anatomy was a broken
incisor; the lower third of his left front tooth had been sheared off
diagonally in a bicycle accident a couple years ago after the tooth had
just come in. Today, the parents of a kid who lost half his front tooth
would rush him to the dentist and get a crown or implant, but back then,
it was seen as something that a person might get fixed for himself when he
was older.  Luke's tooth made him seem cute and distinctive, but also a
bit like a marred ceramic one would see in those discount pottery stores
that sold seconds.

I'd already jerked off earlier that morning on Adam's stomach while we
rubbed our cocks together, but seeing Luke standing with his swim suit
pulled down to his knees made me go hard. My mouth went dry. I picked up
my can of Tab and took a swig.

"Shut the door," I said. I knew that none of my boys would have a problem
if they saw me blowing Luke, but I didn't want him to freak out if it
happened.  He turned and waddled to the door of my den with his trunks at
his knees.  He gently closed the door and his cute white ass guaranteed
that something was going to happen.

"Come here," I said, trying and failing to sound exasperated. He walked
towards me with that funny waddle.  When he was within arms length, I
grabbed his buttocks with both hands and pulled him toward me.  I slid
forward off my leather executive and knelt down as I guided his erect cock
into my mouth. As It got closer, I saw a swath of tiny, straight hairs
just above his shaft. Luke's cock in my mouth was cooler than I expected -
probably because he'd just gotten out of the pool. It brought the sound of
adolescent voices and splashing sounds out back into my awareness.

I'm an excellent cock sucker - I'm not bragging. It's an art I've honed
over many years: the slow build up; the suction and release of the cock;
the break from the shaft to attend to the balls and taint; a long, slow
lick from the scrotum to the head; a pause to lick the belly button and
nipples; an aggressive and pliable tongue; gradually allowing myself to be
face-fucked as deeply and rapidly as the blowee wishes. I tried all the
tricks on the kid. This was his first blowjob and I wanted him to measure
every blowjob he'd get in the future against this one.

As the act built up to its crescendo I wondered how it would end. As a
boy, I had started masturbating at 13, and had been able to cum during my
first orgasm.  I knew from talking to my teenage partners that some of
them had been masturbating and orgasming since they were young boys, but I
wasn't exactly sure how the prepubescent orgasm would present itself.

Luke's thrusts grew in speed and depth. His abdominal muscles tensed and
his breath shortened. My right hand caressed his taught ball sac and my
left hand gripped his butt cheek, my fingers in his crack, rubbing and
exploring his hole and taint. He expelled a sharp breath, pushed deep and
throbbed. I could feel a small deposit in my mouth as he withdrew.

"So an 11 year old can come!" I said.

"Of course I can. Why do you think I wanted blow job?" Luke asked with
fake exasperation.

Luke was simply a neighbor kid who had started hanging around with the
coolest boys on the street, Adam, Denny and Mark, whom I called my "foster
sons." My job, as a cinematographer on TV shows (mostly crime-dramas and
detective procedurals) left a lot of free time between TV seasons,
especially during the break from early spring through mid-summer. That's
when I got to practice my other passion: hanging out with, photographing,
and making love to young teenage boys.

At that time in L.A., there was an abundance of kids who had come to the
city to make it big, or escape abusive family situations, or simply to be
where "things were happening." That would describe most of my young
boyfriends. I was a single man in my early thirties with a good income,
and I used that situation to further my own hobbies and inclinations. I'd
moved from an apartment in Hollywood into my own house three years
earlier, when my career took off and my apartment living situation limited
how I could pursue my interests.  I'd settled on a nice three bedroom
house plus den, rec room and swimming pool in "the Bird Streets," a
neighborhood of steep, narrow winding roads and houses hanging on the edge
of the hills above the famous Sunset Strip.

My house was the last of five on a narrow private road, basically a shared
driveway. I bought the house from a somewhat well-known game show host who
had built a cinder block wall around the property and gated the last
section of the road that led to the garage. While a gated and walled
property might seem quite luxurious, my house was actually quite modest, a
nondescript stucco box, albeit one with stunning city views and a
sparkling swimming pool.

That swimming pool was a boy magnet. I spent most of my free afternoons
sitting in a lounge chair by the pool while boys swam and roughhoused,
sometimes joining them in their fun and games, other times photographing
the antics with my Nikon SLR. My pool had few rules, but I told the boys
that I preferred swimmers go clothing-free for hygiene reasons. I don't
even remember how I came up with that idea, but it worked.

JULY 1971

The first time I brought Mark and his friend Jamie to the house, I had to
work to convince them to go naked in the pool. I had struck up a
conversation with the thirteen-year-old boys in front of Ben Frank's on
Sunset. They complimented my car, a red 1968 Chevelle SS convertible,
which I had purchased specifically to turn boys' heads. We talked about
music and I mentioned that I owned a guitar that had been played by Jimi
Hendrix. In 1971, stranger danger was something that only little children
had to worry about - teens and even eleven and twelve-year-olds got around
by pointing their thumb in the direction they were headed. Getting into a
stranger's car for a short trip up the hill to see a famous guitar seemed
natural for two thirteen-year olds.

Jamie, the taller of the two boys, sat in the passenger seat. He was
handsome in a gangly, way, his hands and feet too large for his skinny
arms and legs. His short cut-off jeans rode up his thin sun-browned thighs
and his striped tank top revealed his pretty, square shoulders. His
colt-like legs were hairless and just getting muscle definition. I
resisted the temptation to caress them. His medium length brown hair
twisted in the breeze as I sped up Doheny Drive to my house. I tried to
discern what he was packing by the way his shorts bulged between his
slightly splayed legs - it looked like there was something there.

I pointed out a couple points of interest to the boys as we drove into the
hills. "See that house?  Jethro from 'The Beverly Hillbillies' lives
there. And that house next door is where Mike from 'The Monkees' lives."
The boys seemed impressed, and even more so when I opened the
driveway-wide gate to my property with a garage door remote a few minutes
later.

As we walked toward the house from my carport I sized up Jamie's friend.
Mark was smaller than Jamie and had a lighter complexion and hair. He was
wearing striped jeans and a tank top. Where Jamie displayed the awkward
proportions of a cute adolescent, Mark was put together in a way that
every piece seemed perfectly sized and in place. His face, cute and
boyish, was crowned by a fringe of well kept dark blonde hair. His small,
straight nose and full lips were set off by a pair of large blue eyes. I
was familiar with boys who looked like this.

"Are you an actor?" I asked.

"I'm trying to be," he said. "I came to LA to see if I could get into TV
or movies."

"You look like you should be in the movies." I said... "You too," I added
hastily to Jamie so he wouldn't feel insulted. "(You could be in my movie,
any day,)" I thought to myself.

"Where do you guys live?" I asked, trying to gain more information about
their independence or lack thereof.

"I'm from Arizona, but I went to live with my aunt in Reseda to try
acting. She turned out to be a nasty drunk so I've been staying at Jamie's
place for the last couple weeks."

"And where do you live?" I asked Jamie.

"I'm crashing at my older brother's apartment in West Hollywood."

"What's he do?" I asked, as we walked the path to my house. I was honestly
curious.

"Not much. He's been trying to find a job in the music biz.  My dad pays
for his apartment and car."

My carport path led into the rec room under my house, where I had a full
band setup: drum kit, two guitars, bass and amplifiers.

"That's Hendrix's guitar," I said, pointing to a banged-up Fender Strat on
a guitar stand.

The boys were impressed and asked me how I got it. I told them the rather
mundane truth that I'd won it in a raffle at work.

"Do either of you play?" I asked. Mark volunteered that he did.

"Well, I'll power it up and you can play." I strummed it a little,
adjusted the volume and handed the guitar to Mark.

He took a while to adjust the guitar strap to just the right height, shook
his hands as if drying them off and then proceeded to play a ham-fisted
version of "Michael Row the Boat Ashore."  Jamie bust out laughing, but I
just said "Nice..."

45 minutes later, those hands delicately fingering the guitar would be
wrapped around Jamie's erect cock, teasing out a powerful explosion of
cum. I took pictures, of course, both to remember the afternoon.

Through gentle prodding, I'd gotten the boys to go skinny dipping with me
in the pool, then I joined them in their roughhousing, which turned into a
game of grab-ass, and finally we were caressing each other's hard cocks
underwater. I gently stroked Mark's cock and Mark's hand was on Jamie's
crotch, imitating my hand movements. Jamie just stood in the waist-deep
water and giggled at Mark's manipulations.

"Jump up on the edge of the pool," I told the boys.  They pulled
themselves up and sat with their legs dangling in the water.  Jamie's hard
cock, about five inches long  with a little patch of brown hair, pointed
toward his belly button.  His hairless balls were tight and drawn up - an
effect of the cool pool water. Mark's cut cock was shorter and wider than
Jamie's and his balls were bigger, but he had less hair - just a few stray
strands starting to develop. His hardon pointed straight out from his
groin, not upward like Jamie's.

"You guys have nice bodies.  Do you work out?" I asked, knowing Jamie's
skinny legs and arms probably hadn't ever lifted a barbell. Mark had a bit
of six-pack so I thought it was possible he lifted weights.

"Nah, but I played little league until last year."  Jamie said.

"I've lifted weights a couple times, but not regular," Mark added.

I continued. "I want to take some 'physique' pictures. Do you guys know
what that is?

"Uhh... naked pictures?" Mark put forth.

"Right you are." I said. "I take pictures of naked guys and girls - it's a
hobby I've had for a few years. A model can actually make pretty good
money from posing."

"I don't think I want naked pictures of me," Jamie said.

"Yeah, what if someone I know saw the pictures?" said Mark. It was more of
an exclamation than a question.

"Well," I said. "These are very private pictures. They will only ever be
seen by me."

"Yeah, I don't know..." said Mark.

"You want to be an actor, right?" I asked.  Mark nodded. "A lot of famous
people got their start posing for physique pictures. It helped them out
financially until they started making real money in movies and TV. Marilyn
Monroe and James Dean both posed nude before they became famous." I wasn't
sure about James Dean, but he wasn't around to contradict me.

"Really?" asked Jamie.

"It's true," I affirmed. "Just hang out for a sec. I'll get my camera and
take some pictures. You guys can come back after I get them printed and if
you don't like them, I'll let you guys keep them or tear them up. I'll
even give you the film so you know I won't make more pictures."

Mark and Jamie looked at each other with raised eyebrows forming an
unspoken question: Should we?

"I guess that sounds ok," Mark finally answered. "Do we still get paid
even if we don't let you keep the pictures?"

"Of course!" I answered. "I pay $20 an hour for posing whether I keep the
pictures or not."

"Twenty!?" Jamie said without hiding his excitement. In 1971, $20 an hour
was as much as a medium level corporate attorney earned.

"Twenty each." I said.

Ten minutes later, I had my Nikon on a tripod and a couple reflectors set
up to make the shoot look legitimate. I had dressed in jeans, a t-shirt
and a photographers' vest, the kind with little pockets for film and
lenses to make myself look like a professional photographer.  And the
trousers would hide my impending erection.

Jamie still sat at the edge of the pool but Mark had moved to a pool
lounge chair. I noticed both boys had gone soft.

"Ok, It's 3:20.  Let's start." I said. I began directing. "Stand facing
toward me with your backs to the pool. Click, Click. Get closer so you're
both in the shot. Click, Click. OK, put your arms around each other's
shoulders. Click, Click. Can you touch your hips together?  That's good."
Click, Click, Click. Jamie and Mark followed my directions. "Look like
you're having fun! Because you are!" Both boys giggled at that.

"You know, when you guys had boners, it looked really good. It's
impressive when kids your age have nice sized dicks. I can see Jamie is
already getting hard.  Can you guys get real hard?  Just rub them. It
feels even better if someone else does it. Jamie, rub Mark's dick. Mark,
do the same to Jamie." The boys were being professional and followed my
orders. I could tell both boys were enjoying the body contact. They grew
to full erection as I photographed the process. I continued to direct the
boys in a variety of poses designed to best accentuate their adolescent
erections.

As I was changing film in my camera a few minutes later I had both boys
lie next to each other on a pool lounger, slightly facing each other so as
not to scoot off the side of the chair. "You guys are really good at this
- this might be one of the best shoots I've done," I enthused. "I don't
normally do this, but do you think I could get pictures of you guys making
sperm? I'll pay each of you an extra $5 if you can shoot it on camera."

"I can," said Jamie confidently.

"OK," said Mark, less confidently.

"Jamie, why don't you let Mark jack you off? It will feel better and make
a bigger sperm shot for the camera," I suggested. Without answering, Mark
took Jamie's five inch cock in his hand and started rubbing.

"Gently at first," I coached. "Like you're teasing him." Click, Click.
"Now a little faster." Click, Click. "Rub his balls with your other hand."
 Click, Click. "Let go of his dick and just concentrate on his balls."
Click, Click. "Back off a little while I reload my film."

Soon I saw the impending signs of Jamie's orgasm approaching. I stopped
shooting to make sure I had enough film for the climax. Jamie's body
started to tense. I set my shot up perfectly, with Mark's cute face inches
from Jamie's stiff pole, intently studying his handiwork. Click. I got the
buildup as Jamie's balls withdrew into his body. Click. I got the initial
pulse of his cock.  Click. I got the first and strongest shot of boy cum
projecting from his hard rod. Click. I got more shots of Jamie shooting
onto his stomach and chest. Click. The perfection of the moment was only
tarnished by Mark quickly letting go of Jamie's cock the second it started
spurting.

I didn't know exactly how my shots would turn out - would I catch that
golden moment where a thin rope of cum is caught mid-air as it's expelled
with gusto from a young teen's cock?  Those kind of pictures are hard to
get.

I finished my series of photos by taking pictures of Jamie's cum-covered
abdomen with little rivulets of semen dripping down his sides from his
stomach and small pools of it in his minimal pubic hair.

"You did great," I said.

"How about me?" asked Mark. "Do I still get $5 if I cum?"

I turned to Jamie, who was almost comatose after his powerful orgasm. "Are
you up to jacking off Mark?"

Jamie groggily answered, "Uh, I guess so.." but I could tell his heart
wouldn't be in the task. Once a thirteen-year-old has orgasmed, there is a
period where he's tired and uninterested in anything except for resting
and eating.

"You want a Pepsi and some cookies?" I asked.

"That sounds good," he answered.

After a ten minute break while Jamie and Mark snacked, I suggested we get
back to the job. I knew Jamie still wasn't going to be into what I had in
mind, so I suggested I help Mark come to an orgasm while Jamie worked the
shutter on the camera. I had Mark lie on his back on the pool lounge and
positioned the Nikon on the tripod and focused it correctly. I told Jamie
to take pictures every few seconds, but in reality, I was much more
excited about touching Mark than making good pictures.

I sat on the pool deck on the far side of the lounge and placed myself in
a good position to manipulate Mark. I've had a lot of experience with a
boy's penis, and knew that I would deliver the most powerful orgasm he had
ever had. I teased his cock and balls and brought him to the edge a couple
times before backing off. The third time I had him almost over the edge,
then backed off, he started bucking his hips with urgency. His thin but
muscular abdomen muscles clenched. I knew the moment was right and took
his cock in my mouth.  He reacted with a surprised start but immediately
began humping my face, desperate to get off. Finally, I took him deep and
allowed him to pour his seed down my throat. I held his cock in my mouth a
few seconds after his orgasm subsided and then let him withdraw.

I looked at Mark lying on the lounge, spent.  His wet cock rested on his
lower abdomen and his arms were drawn up behind his head. His eyes had a
dazed look.  "How was that?" I asked,

"Cool." he said in a whispered gasp.

"Did you get some good pictures?"I asked Jamie.

"Uh, I ran out of film halfway through but didn't want to stop you.
Sorry," he said.  I assured him it was OK.

I didn't know it at the time, but this was Mark's introduction to sex with
another person, and he would dive deep into the world of man/boy love. I
had pegged Jamie as the more willing partner, but once Mark had his dick
sucked, he was all in. The boys left the house that afternoon with my
business card in their pockets: Mike Barry, Photographer/Cinematographer.
They were each $25 richer.

MARCH 1973

Mike Barry was my first and middle name. I didn't use my last name around
the boys for fear that they or someone they knew might recognize it in the
credits of a TV show, though my oldest Mark, who was now 15, had certainly
figured it out. Mark was trustworthy; I didn't need to worry about him.

Since what I did was on the fringe of legality, I wanted to avoid scrutiny
and repercussions. At that time, taking erotic pictures of underage kids
wasn't even illegal, and age of consent laws weren't thought to apply to
males.  Still, a guy like me could be caught up on a "Contributing to the
Delinquency of a Minor" charge, especially since I let my boys smoke Mary
Jane and drink around the house.

I did have two experiences with the law. Once around 1972, a detective
came up the road and banged on my front gate for 20 minutes but I never
opened it. I didn't even have an intercom back then - if you were coming
to my house, you already knew the code to open the gate, or you called
beforehand and I gave you the code. I changed the code pretty often. If a
boy was stealing from me or doing hard drugs, or anything else that I felt
was going against my rules, which were pretty lax, I'd change the code and
stop inviting him over.

Later in the afternoon, the day the detective had banged on my door, I was
driving down the hill and got pulled over by an unmarked cop car. It was
the detective from earlier. I hadn't known for sure he was a detective
when he was knocking on my driveway gate, but he certainly looked like the
guys who worked on my TV shows as "technical consultants," with their dark
blue suits and unfashionably skinny ties.

"We got a complaint from a neighbor that you've been having parties with
naked boys," announced the detective.

I was shocked and didn't say anything for a moment. My heart raced and my
face went red. I tried to think of who could have tipped off law
enforcement.  The only way to see into my pool would be to drag a chair or
ladder up to the wall that surrounded my property.  Was it a disgruntled
boy? I gathered my wits.

"I don't have parties at my place," I said. "I do practice a nudist
lifestyle, and I sometimes have guests who are also nudists, but that's
perfectly legal, especially on my own property."

"Well, mind if I check your place out, then?" he asked.

"I'm a very private person, and I'd rather keep it that way.  Do you have
probable cause for a warrant? I can't imagine you do because I haven't
done anything illegal."  My years working on detective dramas had versed
me in what to say in a situation like this. I was almost quoting, word for
word, a speech by a rich, urbane mobster on a show I'd shot a couple years
back.

"Er... well, I'm going to keep an eye on you," he said.

That's the last time I ever saw the detective, but it did put the fear in
me for a while and I tried to keep things mellow for a few weeks, staying
on the property with my three boys and not inviting any outside boys over.
Eventually things got back to normal around the place and it again became
a magnet for young male teens.

Several months later, a neighborhood boy started hanging out at my place.
He had been invited over by twelve-year-old foster son, Adam. The new boy,
Luke, was unusual in a couple ways - as an 11-year-old he was younger than
any of the boys that hung out at my place, and he was a genuine neighbor.
My other boys all came from the flat lands surrounding the hills, either
from the San Fernando Valley side or the Hollywood side. Luke lived three
houses down from me on the private road, and had spent the last couple
years watching boys on mini bikes leaving my house and buzzing around the
neighborhood, or racing RC Cars up and down the private road. He finally
gathered the courage up to talk to Adam, and they began to develop a
friendship.  As the youngest of my kids, Adam probably relished having
someone who looked up to him.

Luke started coming around to my house almost every day after school that
spring. I remember the surprise in his eyes the first time he saw the
naked boys around the pool. "We always swim naked," Adam explained. "It's
hygienic." Adam pronounced it hy-jeen-ic.

The boys and I had to tone down the poolside horseplay when Luke started
coming around. For weeks he was the only boy who wore a swimsuit in the
pool, though Adam and Denny did convince him to swim naked a couple times.
Sometimes my boys sported full hard-ons in the pool. It didn't seem to
affect Luke. He grew more comfortable with the older boys smoking weed or
grabbing each other's cocks in the pool. I even saw Mark grab Luke's
crotch a few times when they were roughhousing in the pool once when Luke
was skinny dipping. His semi-erect cock looked nice, but he was too young
to fool around with me.

Luke and my boys, and sometimes other boys from down the hill, would play
around in the pool or in the rumpus room, and I'd get incredibly horny,
but I had to wait until Luke left before I could do anything with the
boys.  Adam, the 12 year old, was the least sexually adventurous of the
boys. He liked to have his dick sucked and that's about it. I have never
forced a boy to do something he didn't want to do or was really
uncomfortable with. Despite his sexual timidity, Adam was one of the most
photogenic kids I'd ever taken pictures of. Once the camera came out, that
boy's poses and expressions became magic. He'd arch his back and thrust
his erection up and at the camera, or coyly turn away from the camera and
expose his little ass.  A mop of straight dark hair covered his forehead
and ears but wasn't especially long, unlike his extensive dark eyelashes,
which would have been the envy of any girl. His skin was slightly olive
from his Italian background tanned easily. He hadn't reached 5 feet tall,
but his body was starting to lose the little boy shape as his muscles
began to develop and his limbs lengthened. He still had a little turned up
nose, which I found adorable.  His newly sprouted pubic hair was dark but
sparse. I knew he'd probably be a hairy beast in two or three years, so I
was determined to document his body on film while it was at this perfect
ripeness.

I had rolls and rolls of film of him naked inside and outside, getting his
cock sucked by Denny, Mark, a couple other boys (and even me), and a few
pictures of him faking anal sex with Denny. One of my favorite pictures I
took was of Adam, kneeling over Denny on a bed. His four-inch erect cock
was resting on Denny's lips and little rivulets of cum were streaming down
Denny's cheeks.

A few years earlier I was lucky enough to have found a guy who had a
similar interest in boys and happened to own a film lab on Highland
Avenue. We had been looking at the same types of "youth-oriented"
magazines at Circus Books on Santa Monica Boulevard and had struck up a
conversation.  When I found out Richard worked in a film lab, I mentioned
that I had a couple rolls of film of some young boyfriends that I'd never
gotten developed. This was years before I had my bachelor pad in the
hills, and the photos were simply of boys I had picked up locally or dated
when I was younger.  Richard looked eager when I mentioned my undeveloped
treasures.

"I'll print them for you," he said. "If they're good, I won't even charge
you."  I guess the idea of looking at fresh, never-seen sex photos of boys
was enough for him to offer me pro bono service.

And it turned out that the black and white photos were good: Tim, a 14
year old blonde boy sucking a man-sized cock and getting splooge on his
face; Nate, a long-haired fifteen year old jerking off while he fingered
his ass; Keith and Kenny, two little dark haired thirteen-year-olds who
were queer and did almost everything to each other; and intimate close ups
of 14-year Shawn's hard cock dripping cum onto his hairless ballsack.

Richard became my photographic partner and the only other person I'd let
see my photos. He'd sometimes join me and the boys on the weekend once I
had my pad in the hills but it was more difficult for him because he was
married. His wife, Susan, had no idea about his secret life or what he did
when he came to my house. I liked Susan - she was smart and fun to be
around. I can see why Richard went for her.

AUGUST 1971

Mark and Jamie never asked to see the pictures I took that first July
afternoon, but did return to my house many times after that. In a few
weeks Mark would be living at my house full time, and would be responsible
for bringing Denny and Adam into my house as well.

Mark had turned into a seemingly insatiable sex addict after the first
encounter with Jamie and me. He had called me two days after our first
photo session asking if I had more work for him. I picked him up and
brought him back to my place and we ended up swimming naked, taking photos
and eventually 69ing.

Ass play wasn't really my thing (I'm convinced it saved me from the AIDS
scourge that would come ten years later), but after a few visits Mark
started hinting that he wanted to butt fuck. He'd push his hard cock
against my hole or rub it up and down my crack until cumming on my lower
back. Finally, I told him it wouldn't be me, but if he could find someone
to do it with I'd take pictures. I suggested Jamie, who'd come by a few
times to earn posing money.

"Nah, he's out of the picture," Mark said. I didn't know what that meant,
but I didn't pry. "I'll see if I can find someone else..."

The very next day, Mark called me. "I found someone to try that thing we
were talking about," he said. I asked him who it was but he just said,
"You'll see."  I could almost hear the grin on his face when he said those
words.

I drove down to Sunset and Doheny to pick him and his companion up.  Who
would his partner in experimentation be? A grown man? An older teen?  A
girl?  Mark was sexually omnivorous, and I knew girls turned him on as
well as guys. As I got closer, I saw Mark standing with someone smaller
than him. I pulled up next to the boys along a red curb and they quickly
got into the Chevelle, Mark in the front seat and the unknown kid in the
back. Mark's friend had long brown hair and bangs and was wearing flaired
jeans and a Levis jacket.

I had the top down in the Chevelle so I couldn't really have a deep
conversation with the kid in the back seat but I did learn his name was
Denny. When we got back to my place we chilled in my living room for a
bit, smoked a little weed and drank Pepsi. I wanted to find more about
this kid who was supposedly going to have sex with Mark on camera.

"So, Denny, where do you live?" I asked.

"I just crash with friends," Denny answered. "Right now I'm staying with a
couple of guys over on Fountain." Denny's voice had that boyish creaky
quality of a kid just entering adolescence. He was sitting on a crushed
velvet lounge chair with his legs spread and his package was huge. I tried
to figure out the shape and placement of his cock and balls from the
unsubtle lump in his jeans.

"How old are you"? I continued.

"I just turned 14," Denny answered.

"You are not!" Mark yelped. "You're only 12."

Denny looked at me sheepishly.

Finally I brought up what I was sure was on everyone's minds that
afternoon. "So, Mark told me that you were willing to let me take pictures
of you and him having fun."

"Yeah, I guess so," Denny said, almost nonchalantly.

"Ok, let's get started," I said. "Did he tell you I pay $20 an hour plus a
$5 bonus for cumming?"

"Yep," said Denny. "Can I see some of the other pictures you've taken?"

I was surprised by this request.  No boy I'd photographed had ever asked
to see pictures of others, though some of them did like looking at
pictures of themselves. I even knew one 14-year-old, Johnny, who liked to
masturbate while looking at erotic pictures of himself. I got a good
picture of him squiriting cum on a picture of himself jerking off."

"Sure thing," I said to Denny.  I went into my office and retrieved a
couple binders full of black and white glossy 8 x 10s. I didn't bring any
pictures of Mark, because I didn't know if he'd be cool with that.

While Denny sat on the shag rug and leafed through the binders with
obvious interest I set up my photo equipment. Denny's breathing grew
shallow. He spent several seconds with each picture, and went back to look
at a couple when he'd gotten to the end of the binder. "All these kids got
naked for you," he said with wonder in his voice. "And some even gave blow
jobs."

"Yes, and they all had a good time," I said, trying to seal the deal."Why
don't you get undressed slowly and I'll take some pictures." Denny looked
at his watch to see what time he went on the clock. Mark watched intently
from the sofa and took a hit off a doobie.

Denny took off his jacket and t-shirt. Click. He undid his belt. Click. He
sat on a chair and removed his low cut boots. Click, click.

"Keep your socks on," I said.  For some reason, I like it when a kid wears
socks and nothing else. His low cut white socks had two red stripes around
the top of each.

Denny stood up, undid his button and lowered his zipper. Click. He pulled
his jeans down to his ankles. Click, click, click.

"Ok, hold off for a sec." I said. "That looks nice." I wanted to document
this from a couple angles. Denny stood in front of me shirtless with his
jeans at his ankles, his tighty-whitey underwear overtly tented.  His cock
head strained at the material. I got shots from the front and side, and a
closeup of his adolescent erection pushing against the white fabric, a
drop of precum soaking through the material.

"Ok, pull them down slowly," I instructed.

Denny pulled at the side of his underwear. His newly-formed pubes came
into view.  His hair was just coming in on either side of his pubic area
but hadn't arched across the top of his cock yet, two little islands of
thin hair trying to form an isthmus. The root of his cock came into view.
The slow descent of his underwear forced his hard cock to point down. It
was finally released once the briefs cleared the length of his erection.
His long straight circumcised cock popped up and bounced, finally free. It
was magnificent and was all caught on film in rich black and white.

"That's really impressive," I said. I didn't voice what I really thought,
that Denny was probably gay. I guess he liked looking at the pictures.

Denny beamed proudly. His cock had to be over seven inches and thick. I
like cocks of all sizes, but it's a treat to see a really big one,
especially on a small kid. His cock head was big and mushroom shaped and
literally made my mouth water. But I knew how this session was supposed to
proceed, so I stayed on task.

"Mark, why don't you get undressed and I can get some photos of the two of
you together?" I directed.  I took photos of Mark taking off his shorts
and polo shirt, then photos of the boys together. Denny seemed enthralled
with Mark's naked body. His cock stayed hard.  Mark was getting hard, too,
perhaps in anticipation of what was to come.

"You guys can touch each other," I said. "Don't be shy." That was all the
prompting Denny needed. He began to caress Mark's sides and abdomen.
Then, as if he couldn't help himself, he knelt down and grabbed Mark's
cock and started stroking it. He caressed Mark's balls, his taint, his
ass. Mark was enjoying the attention.

"Go to town, Denny," I simply said and he became voracious. He took Mark's
cock in his mouth and deep throated him. His hands roved Mark's chest, his
back, his ass, his legs. Denny's large erection pointed up and out as he
knelt in front of Mark, his mouth working his friend's five inch cut rod.
I love photos of boys who are hard when they suck cock and made sure to
get plenty of those shots.  Sadly, I had to tell the boys to break while I
reloaded film.

"Let's move it onto the bed," I suggested. We moved into one of my guest
bedrooms. The bedroom walls were covered with a mahogany panels, which
made a great contrasting backdrop to naked bodies. After a new roll of 36
exposures was in my camera, I instructed the boys to 69. They obliged
without comment. I spent that entire roll shooting at both ends and from
the side and reloaded again.

The boys reclined on the bed, their wet hard cocks pointing at the ceiling.

"Ok, I think Mark wants to try something new," I said. "Denny, what do you
think about letting Mark butt-fuck you?" To modern ears it probably seems
strange that I said 'butt-fuck,' but that's what we called it back then.

"Yeah, Mark said we were going to do that," Denny replied.

"Have you ever taken it in the ass?" I asked.

"Yeah, man. I'm a pro." It was weird hearing a twelve-year-old talk like
that. I would later learn that Denny had been trading his ass to the two
guys he lived with for room and board.

"Let's start with you on your back, Denny," I instructed. "Mark, we need
to lube you up." I squirted some KY Jelly onto my hand and personally
attended to Mark's hard cock. I rubbed its warm, hard length. He began
thrusting his hips. "Whoah, hold on!" I said.  Save it for Denny.

I put some more KY on my fingers and turned to Denny. He was resting on
his back and had pulled his legs up, hia sock-covered feet in mid-air. His
long, hard cock pointed at his belly button. I couldn't help myself. I
reached out and stroked it a couple times with my lubed up hand. He didn't
seem to mind. His solid, straight erection was literally a handful. I
rubbed the remaining lube on his asshole and crack.

After wiping my hands on a towel I resumed the photography session. Mark
positioned himself below Denny's body, then quickly thrust his groin into
Mark's crack, only to be met with solid resistance.

"Hold it, a sec!" I said. "It's not that easy. You're going to have to
work your way up to it." I instructed him to lube up his finger and try
that first. After one finger, then two fingers, Mark was able to get his
dick into Denny's hole. Entering slowly at first, then going deeper until
there was nowhere else to go, then pulling back, then deep in again, Mark
picked up the pace, eager to get off.

I shot six rolls of film that afternoon. I had Mark and Denny adjust
position while I changed the film in my camera. "Try to keep your dick in
Denny's ass when you roll over," I said, just because I thought it would
be funny.  I shot them doggy style, on their sides, with Denny on his
stomach and Mark on top, and back to Denny lying on his back with his legs
pulled up to his shoulders while Mark pounded his hole. I got closeups and
full body shots.

"Grab Denny's cock and jack it, Mark," I instructed. Denny stayed hard the
whole time, his big-boy cock pointing at his face or flopping up and down
depending on position.  "And tell me when you're going to cum. I want you
to pull out so I can get pictures."

"Aw, do I have to?" Mark whined, just above a whisper.

It wasn't really my right to steal his pleasure just for a good picture,
especially since it was his first time fucking, so I told him he could cum
in Denny's ass if Denny was OK with it.

Denny said, "I don't care."

Mark got tired of stroking Denny's cock with one hand and supporting his
upper body with just one arm, so he gave up stroking Denny. After a few
minutes, Mark's pace increased dramatically and his face reddened. He
stopped for a couple seconds, then made five deep thrusts into Denny's ass
and grunted. His eyes lost focus. Then he pulled out and collapsed next to
Denny. I thrust my lens at Denny's butt and got a couple shots of Mark's
semen dripping out of Denny's hole and down his ass crack onto the sheets.

I became aware of my cramped erection - I'd been hard in my jeans for 40
minutes. Overcome with lust, I grabbed Denny's cock and said "We need to
take care of this." Then I leaned forward and took Denny's big cock in my
mouth. He'd been dripping pre-cum for the last half hour and his dick was
salty and slippery. I sucked him and took him deep. By this time Mark was
lying on his side, his head resting on one elbow watching intently.
Denny's hips bucked and he thrust his big cock as far into me as he could.
His body spasmed and he dumped a big load down my throat.

We rested on the bed for a few minutes and recovered. I suggested we go
swimming. I knew it would refresh the boys and wash away the sweat and cum
of the afternoon exertions. The boys went out back to the pool. I
undressed and rubbed out a quick one in my dressing room then joined them.

I used the opportunity to take more pictures of Mark and especially Denny,
who was back to full mast as soon as he got into the pool. He screeched
and splashed in a hyperactive way like a little kid, his oversized
erection bobbing up and down as he ran around the pool deck. I remembered
he was only 12.

After the boys got tired we relaxed by the pool on the lounges. Denny
looked like he was going to fall asleep, but his cock was still awake.
Mark broke the silence a couple minutes later. "Do you think I could stay
here tonight? Just for one night. I won't even make you pay for today's
pictures if you let me."

"I wanna get paid!" Denny interjected. He wasn't asleep.

"You will!" I said with mock exasperation.  I turned to Mark. "Sure, you
can stay tonight. Why do you want to crash here?"

"Well, Jamie moved out of his brother's place so I can't stay there." he
said. "I tried calling my aunt but her phone's disconnected.  I don't
wanna go back to Arizona.

"I see..." That's all I said.

After feeding both boys chili dogs, I drove them down the hill. I dropped
Denny at his apartment on Fountain Avenue and returned to my house with
Mark.

Mark gave me a blowjob that night. I told him he could stay as long as he
wanted. He stayed until he was 16, when he decided to hitchhike to New
York. He was responsible for introducing me to all sorts of new boys. In a
few months, Denny would move in as well. I heard stories about how he was
treated by his roommates and didn't think it was cool. I had a genuine
concern for Mark and Denny, and later, Adam, who would move in 1972. I
loved my boys. Though we didn't used the term back then, I was a genuine
boylover.

MARCH 2018

It's been years since the activities I describe above happened. I'm an old
man now, though at 76 I still feel young.

My second brush with the law was in 1988, when I was arrested on a whole
bunch of charges, including corrupting a minor, production and
distribution of child pornography, and statutory rape. The cops had busted
Richard, the guy who developed and printed my pictures. He'd been blowing
his 13-year-old "lab assistant" at work and the kid's mother had walked in
on them.  When the cops found his collection of photos they physically
beat him until he spilled the beans.  Among his photos were images of a
young teen blowing an adult man.  The man's face couldn't be seen, but the
cops claimed it was me. Worse, Richard knew knew who the boy was, and his
face could be seen.  The cops tracked down the boy, whom I'll call Jack.
By the time they found him he was 19 or 20. Through some sort of
persuasion (probably not so gentle) they were able to convince Jack that I
was a monster that needed to be taken down.  I'd always treated the kid
with respect and dignity, and he had always seemed to enjoy what we did
together.  The majority of the boys I've taken pictures of or fooled
around with were mostly straight but enjoyed sex with males. Some claimed
they were bisexual. Jack was flat out queer in every way, and I know he
was eager to do all the things I'd caught on film.

One afternoon in February three police cruisers showed up at my gate. By
1988 I lived alone. When I peeked out my window and saw the cop cars, I
was panicky, but knew what I had to do. I had been planning for this day,
dreading it, but hoping it would never arrive. Now that it was here I put
my plan into action. I had far too many prints and files of film to flush
down the toilet. Several years earlier I had dug a "vault" under the rec
room on the ground floor of my house. It could be accessed by moving a
pool table and rug to reveal a trap door that led to small recess that
held a plumbing junction. Beneath the pipes of the plumbing junction was a
plywood panel that could be removed to reveal a concrete vault about 4
feet square, with metal shelves.  Accessing the vault was a tough job for
one person, but not impossible. That's where I stored my work, the
archives of film and photos that I had spent the last twenty five years
creating. I had to take a mental inventory of what was in my house and not
in the vault: a few magazines, a few black and white photos, a couple
rolls of undeveloped film. I collected them and deposited them in the
vault and returned the rug and pool table to its place, all within the
space of about four minutes.  Then I waited. I sat in my living room with
a view through the crack in my drapes wondering what would happen. I went
to the wet bar and had a couple shots of vodka.

Nothing happened for a long time. Eventually the police cruisers drove
off. I still didn't know what exactly was going on, but I knew I was
probably in big trouble. I called a gay friend who was a lawyer. He called
the West Hollywood PD. In 1984, the City of West Hollywood had
incorporated, and the LAPD no longer had jurisdiction in my neighborhood.
The West Hollywood PD told my friend, who was now my official lawyer, that
there was a warrant for my arrest.

I appeared at the police station on Santa Monica Boulevard with my lawyer
and was arrested. Ironically, the police station is half a block from the
section of Santa Monica Boulevard where boys of all ages used to hang out
to hook up with men. I made bail immediately, and didn't even have to
spend time in a cell.

Without going into too many details, my case was eventually dropped. The
cops did a cursory search of my property, but in the 1980s there wasn't
the huge focus on "protecting the innocent" so they didn't spend a lot of
time or resources on my case. My lawyer found a colleague to represent
Jack, the kid who had brought the complaints against me. For whatever
reason, Jack stopped cooperating with the cops and the DA had to drop my
case.

That incident was a wake up call to the new realities of the times. I gave
up my photography hobby, and for the most part, made due with young
looking guys who were over 18 (at least that's what they told me).

Eventually I got rid of my house in the hills above the Sunset Strip and
moved to a condo at the beach. I probably sold a few years too early. Last
year I looked up my old property on Redfin and it sold for $4.2 million in
2015. But the good times and memories I have from that home are worth more
than that to me. No amount of money could buy that today.

The statute of limitations has run out on all of my "crimes." For a while
I worried when various people, claiming to be "victims," started suing
their abusers. Though I have a hard time imagining any kid I was with
would consider what we did together abuse, never underestimate the power
of a white knight counselor or therapist to convince someone that all
their problems stem from the time they let a man suck their cock when they
were 14.  Fortunately, my real name is common, and I think it would be
hard to track me down if someone wanted to go after me.

And what happened to the extensive archives of my two decades of
debauchery? Did I clear out the vault and destroy everything that could
come back to haunt me after my last brush with the law? Did I pack it all
into legal boxes and bring it with me when I moved, keeping it at arm's
length to revisit and reminisce with, hidden in another secret cache? Or
is it still sitting under the rec room floor in the Hollywood Hills,
waiting to be discovered by an archaeologist a hundred years from now? Or
two years, if the homeowners decide to remodel. Well, that's one secret
I'm keeping.