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The author “Chance” is me, “Larkin” This is an effort to re-compose my old roster into a new roster comprised old and new works, re-written and done with more careful editing. (omitting junk) I hope you will understand.

Please send comments to: larkin@tutanota.com...And I will respond

This is a work of fiction. All disclaimers associated with homosexuality will apply without exception. There is reference to some drug use that is in character with the period but it is only incidental and not to proselytize. Persons portrayed in this story are fictitious or at best, coincidental.

I regret that on just a few occasions, I have resorted to use of the “N” word. I did not do this because of any personal preconceptions but in the name of honest authentencity of the period and nothing more.

Waiting for the Titanic

Chapter 13

by Chance/Larkin

Billy

I met Billy around the time I met Peter. I was wiling away the afternoon on a bench in Madison Square Park. I beckoned him to approach me and then sent him on an errand to fetch me a box of cigarettes. Once I offered the 11 or 12 year old a cigarette, a conspiracy had been forged between us. Both of us having different points of view, were completely aware of what was about to transpire. The ruse was easily adopted by us and I did not have to lure him because he came willingly. This clever boy was not my first nor was myself, his first sexual encounter with a man. Along the route to my flat, he had every opportunity to escape but we continued to Fitz's tavern where I ordered him 2 watered down brandies. He ran ahead of me, quickly up the stairs to my den of iniquity.

(Refer to the first chapter of this diary for details of this first encounter)

It was when his father was apprehended for the murder of a young prostitute and sentenced to the gallows, that he came to me to seek refuge. I was apprehensive about adopting this boy right out of a Dickensian gutter because it could have easily been a fatal mistake. The odds were that he would grow up to be as blood-thirsty as his brutish father. In the end, it proved to be one of the best things I have done with my life. Ten long years later, Billy Broome received a degree in English literature at Columbia College.

The Odious Idea of Marriage

My Billy met Richard Hastings in college. They seemed to share interest and both had scholarly pursuits. Not bad looking but unremarkable some how. But if Billy wanted him it would be fine by me. They kept constant company and had coupled in a very traditional sense. Richard, masculine and restrained was the complete opposite of Billy. It was almost too formal for me but I suppose it was his reaction to his childhood chaos. When Richard came to dinner he and Billy behaved very much like a married couple. Billy never let on about our relationship only that I was approving and accepting of there's. In the Spring, Richard needed to go home to England and Billy had secured a position doing graduate work was to go as well. From what I heard, they continued to conceal their ongoing relationship from Richard's family although I don't know how? Billy had developed an urgent passion and an unrelenting desire to be fucked and fucked hard on a bi-daily basis and he was often boisterous as a consequence. Maybe his family did know and were just being polite. I have found that many decidedly heterosexual boys liked it up the backside as a result of youthful experiences. My Billy had grown up.

A letter from Berlin

In the Fall, Billy and Richard invited Tony and myself to England for a visit. Richard's family would be on holiday in Asia.

I presented the idea to Tony. “How would you like to go on a ocean voyage with me?”

The boy gave me a suspicious look, then shrugged his shoulders and casually said, “No, not really.”

It was strange to hear a boy turning down the excitement of travel and exploration.

He said again in an unconcerned voice. “No, I like it here with you.”

He picked up an empty tea cup and began peeing in it almost filling it, upon which he carefully placed it on my night table.

“Well Tony, I must go. Wouldn't you like to visit Billy. He wrote me and told me he misses you very much.”

He crawled naked into my lap but continued to be petulant.

He was shaking his head no. “No, no,no,no!”

In a full body stretch he lay the length of his body on me.

“Tony give me one good reason why not?”

Now in the midst of a prolonged yawn he said, “Because you'll take me somewhere far away and leave me there like they did when I was a baby.”

I hugged him and whispered in his ear. “Tony, I could never do that because I love you so much.”

He turned over laying the front of himself on me and hanging his skinny arms around my neck.

Dismissively he said, “Yeah, I know that.”

“Please Tony, please go on an exciting trip with me. If you won't go, I can't because I love you so much.”

I gently pet his scrotum.

Looking at the pee filled tea cup as if it was an art work, he said again, “no.”

Who was doing the actual act of seduction will always be a mystery to me but it flowered into a all sorts of couplings ending with a deep penetration up his behind resolving in a flood of juice.

When he finished masturbating himself, I asked him again.

This time he said, “Oh okay.”

I can only guess at his age at the time as maybe, 9 or 10 but no one will ever know for sure.

Just about the same time as I was making arrangements for our voyage I received a letter from Myles.

My dear Edmund,

Please come visit me in Berlin. It would be so good to see you. I have been married for a year and Alixa and I have a new daughter, Alida. She comes from a noble family of pure Prussian stock. We have a beautiful home but I also have a very large apartment near the Kurfurstemdam. Please feel free to bring Peter and Billy. They were both charming and I am sure have grown into fine men.

Fond regards, Myles.

The note from Myles was certainly coincidental. I wrote him back and included him in our arrangements. I also told him of Peter's death in the North of France. Myles wrote back immediately with his condolences.

The Ocean Voyage

Tony got all new clothes and a handmade leather suit case just his size. Before departing I had my Lawyer make-up and secure some travel documents for Tony so no one would challenge his association with me.

It is hard to believe but the high part of the holiday was the ocean voyage with Tony. The trip would take a little more that 5 days on the Cunard steamship, Lancastria. I requested a single room with a cot for Tony.. as it turned out we would never use it.

Here was a respectable New Yorker and a little brown boy traveling together in a cabin with an unslept in cot. There was one cabin steward who caught on to us and it was Tony who quickly disarmed him. Rylie was his name and coming from a large family, he was no stranger to all manner sexual activity. The boy was lean, shorter than me by a foot and was in the throws of puberty. He had a dropy foreskin that pulled away to reveal a shiny red, sweet and slippery cockhead.

He said in a thick Irish accent, “When I was a kitty we slept six in a bed and my oldest brother ruled over all of us like a wicked and filthy tyrant.”

His on going fear was not the sex, but being detected and losing his job. This preoccupation raised the tension and excitement of our lewd and ignominious encounters.

He played one role for me and another role for Tony.

Probing Tony's bottom with his fingers piqued his interest.

Holding his stiff and modest cock in one hand, the cabin boy looked at me. “You think I can do it, you know, stick it in?”

“Well don't ask me, ask Tony.”

“I don't want to hurt him.”

The question was answered when my smiling Tony pulled both legs back allowing the cabin boy's approach. A more beautiful sight I have yet to see.

London

It is exciting to visit far away places but compared to New York, London was a little boring. The English, unlike the Irish, are so polite that it becomes tedious. Billy and Richard were excellent hosts but in taking us on tours of London we went to museums and art galleries. These excursions caused both monkey boy and myself to yawn. Unfortunately, they avoided the unsafe areas of the city where I suspect the real people live and breathe.

My relationship with Billy was affectionate but had become entirely, paternal. Billy was glad to see Tony. They tumbled, hugged, played and kissed. They did all this except for one thing. Billy and Richard banned my rude little brat from their conjugal bed. Perhaps Richard might think it would be improper and Billy had had adopted conventional values. More that likely was that Billy wanted to be the little boy and suffered at the idea of competition. But, no matter, Monkey boy slept in with me and spared them the sight of our lewd activities.

Berlin

After a full week and a solemn promise to return we took the train to Harwich and then the ferry to the Hook of Holland. From there, booked a train to Berlin. It was 2 days of confinement and Tony grew very cranky. Thankfully, Myles met us at Central Station. Dressed in a fine suit and handsome as ever, Myles took us to dinner in an elegant restaurant. With solemn sensitivity, we discussed Peter's death in Verdun. Myles said that the Great War was regrettable.

Then without skipping a beat he said, “Edmund, I don't care what they say in Versailles, we did not lose that war! We were betrayed by a bunch of cheese eating frogs.”

My eyebrows went up but Myles was serious and confident.

Considering the chaotic circumstances of a war vanquished Berlin, Myles was a perfect host. The city was in a shambles. Beset with unemployment and a rabid inflation, Myles was living in comparative luxury. A large finely appointed apartment with a waite staff of 3. This contrasted with Berlin that was in a state of economic and political collapse. There was a climate of danger in the air, a high crime rate and there were shooting wars between political parties. The government was threatening to fall. This threatening calamity was the main reason his wife and child were staying with her family in East Prussia. All of this seemed to have no effect on Myles. He seemed to revel in it.

Tony had suddenly come down sick and I worried that it might be the Spanish flu. By the next day he was a little better but I had him stay in bed while Myles took me on a night crawl through Berlin's post imperial underground. Things were hopping with the sounds of negro American Jazz, young toughs and a multitude of desparate prostitutes.

Myles said, “You can get anything you want here. I know how much you like opium.”

I politely declined.

Without the monarchy, Berlin was in a crisis of collapse. I was advised to keep my money in dollars because the German mark was worse than worthless and more so by the day. I watched Myles buy a beer for 100 billion marks. It also seemed like we and the other foreigners were the only ones who had any real money. Myles had it because his father had put the families money in American banks. He and his family were well-off before but now they were genuinely wealthy especially in Germany.

It was immediately apparent to me that sex was all around us and they didn't care what your sex or sexual apatite was just as long as you had money. We visited several homosexual clubs each one unique in its clientele. The power that Myles possessed by having sheathes of paper money made him a king and I'm afraid it also made him a bullying tyrant. In one seedy dark, cellar club, boys were falling all over themselves trying to get his attention. He was dismissive and cruel to them, pushing one away and pulling another one forward and then seating the boy on his knees between his legs. Myles would degrade, humiliate and then, carelessly reject the boy without so much as a pfennig. In the dark recesses of the club I saw him degrade one boy after another. I would say that many might have been heterosexual but they were desperate for money and would do just about anything. Myles was exploiting them in a cruel and ugly manner. Not everyone was like that but Myles fueled his ego by making himself into an arrogant despot. The boys approached me but I was hesitant in this strange and uncertain environment.

“Edmund, that boy wants you, come on do it and then give him 15 American cents”. Myles laughed out loud.

I was fixated by the mixture of chaos, course sexuality and utter desperation.

“Edmond, I want you to come with me into the toilette so you can watch me fuck this boy. He told me he had never been fucked before. I think he is a damn liar.”

Myles held a young boy dressed in rags and forcefully led him into the loo. After being briefly sucked, He turned him around and pushed his huge German cock up the boy's ass. The boy cried out but Myles, untroubled, only stepped up his assault.

I can appreciate almost anything in this world except cruelty. The experience had left me shaken.

After he had satisfied himself we headed towards Alexanderplatz to pick up a cab.

I asked him, “Myles do you bring any of these boys home?”

He had a smirk that seemed to be full of contempt and superiority.

Looking at me he said, “Edmund, they are peasant rubbish. To use the American term, trash.”

He said many of them are mixed blood drawn to the only truly civilized city in Europe.

“If I wanted to fuck one all night long, I would go to a hotel. By morning the whore would be crawling home on his hands and knees.”

This was not the Myles I was attracted to when we were boys together. Just when I was silently reconsidering the quality of our friendship, he prodded me.

“Edmund I have been meaning to say something to you. I thought your first two boys were more suitable but do you think that you have made a good choice with this one?”

“What are you talking about, my relationship with Tony?.. I don't understand.”

“Edmund, are you going to force me to spell it out to you?”

I stared intently at Myles. He was looking at me as if I was a child.

“Edmund, ...He's a nigger!”

He tilted his head giving me the impression that perhaps I should really know better.

A chill fell over me.

“I can understand you wanting to fuck him but bringing him into your home doesn't seem to me to be a wise choice.”

Myles does not know Tony and he does not know me. Inwardly, I was already making plans for our departure. This however, would not be the last of Myles Fredrich Koenig.

Con't

Please send comments to: larkin@tutanota.com...And I will respond