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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

First published a year and a half ago under the title of “New York 1912” placed in the historical forum but a goodly number of people missed it. This gives me the opportunity to tidy it up and add to it here and there and restructure the ending.

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.

Waiting for the Titanic

Part 6

The Transition

Billy, Peter and myself were crowded into my small 10th street apartment.  It was pleasant, chaotic and tumbling.  The two had formed a criminal partnership and made me their slave.  I had to submit to their dictatorial whims and invented humiliations.  If my window had overlooked the East River they would surely have blindfolded me and made me walk the plank.  They never seemed to tire of it and to be truthful, neither did I.  As I look back on it, it was one of the high points of my life.  They would start with each other and when sufficiently aroused, then attack me.  This was boy play at its best and it consisted of group masturbation, urine releases and oral sex.  More intimate encounters took place when one or the other was absent or asleep.  Sometimes, in the wee hours, Peter would place himself under the covers with me and push up his behind to be penetrated.  This had become his secret passion and this is what had finally bonded us together.  Causing a novice to ejaculate just by being penetrated is a wondrous and gratifying achievement.   

Bearing a slight smile he'd whisper, "What a filthy bastard you are. You made me cum from my insides."

Peter delivered telegrams 6 days a week, working from 6 to 6 and When he came home in the evening he often went to sleep immediately only to be up and irrepressibly erect for half the night.  

Billy, no longer a fugitive, was my constant companion and would be for the entire summer until I decided where I would enroll him in school.  I wanted to treat him gently and allow him to overcome his terrible circumstances. I was very grateful that Peter had taken him on in such a brotherly manner and I freely told him so. Billy was so pleasant and good natured that I never minded his company, even for a moment.  I spent time with him and wanted to understand how he felt about his ill fated father. The story of his life was a series of jig-saw puzzle pieces that I had to assemble.  Once his mother died, Billy lost her protection. He had to be resourceful because his father spent most of the money at the tavern, drinking. Consequently there was little food. His father was a hard drinker and sought out prostitutes.  Many times it failed or he had already spent the money.  Then he'd come home and exploit his own son. 

Billy would say, "It was the drink that done it."

I suggested that maybe he was just plain mean to begin with. 

He responded, "Yeah, that too."

This was the main reason Billy was so used to being penetrated. The boy had learned early on that other men liked him for the same reason but treated him better or gave him money. Of course, that is how we met.  He was indifferent towards his father and this attitude seemed to continue even after the man had been hanged. Except for his relationship with Peter, Billy had withdrawn a bit and I resolved to let him come out at his own pace.

It became apparent to me that we would need a larger apartment. One where we could each have a room to negotiate our associations out of choice and not the jumble of one crowded bed like a slum tenement in the Five Points. Not to be misinterpreted, I enjoyed it immensely but we needed room to spread out. I certainly would not object to all of us being in one bed in a 3 bedroom apartment.

Billy and I looked through the ads  for apartments. I considered the Upper Eastside not because my mother lived across the park, but remembering my good times and various relationships as a result of my schooling. I wanted to enroll Billy in St. Paul's School in September and I wanted it to be walking distance for him. The Upper Eastside had gone through electrification for the modern incandescent lighting and all of that explosive gas lines had been torn out.

I asked Billy."What do you think if we get a telephone device?"  Of course he liked the idea.

The Park started at 59th street and the Upper Eastside was to the East of 5th avenue.   There were many residentials to choose from.  Most of them were originally private homes like my mother's but since then, many were divided up into floor-through apartments. I really didn't want to live much higher than 70th street because it was remote and I liked the excitement and class mixture of downtown. In contrast to my mother and her wealthy friends, I approved of class mixing. I thought it was very modern and democratic.

We scheduled appointments for 3 different places. Billy came along with me to give final approval.  They were interesting but each one had a serious drawback of one kind or another.  We decided to go home and select more for review before the week-end.

I had only been home for a short while when there was a knock on the door. It gave me a start at first because I thought he was taller version of Peter, but it wasn't Peter.  It was a local  telegram from my mother's doctor.  The message was brief.

Your mother, has died, come at once. 

I wouldn't like to say that my mother's death was fortuitous but the truth was that I was expecting it.  We were distant but cordially polite for years.  She did not approve of me and I did not approve of her but we maintained a pleasant civility. We were worlds apart.  It troubled her that I would dare to bring the works of Oscar Wilde into the house.

I brought Billy with me. I couldn't think of a reason not to.  Peter had already seen the house before but not Billy and there would be no one there to wonder or disapprove. We changed clothes, putting on dark and somber attire.  I left Peter a note and Billy and I headed uptown to my mother's townhouse.

There was no one there except the maid, the nurse who sat waiting to be paid and the undertaker, Mr. Schook.  He was crestfallen because he expected to be commissioned to perform an elaborate service.  I told him that I wanted a closed coffin and a small service just me and the boys and no other guests and no wake. I did not want to encourage any future entanglements with her ex-paramours or distant relatives offering me business opportunities. 

I wanted Billy, Peter and myself to have the sense that we were entering a new modern era and a new life at, 325 West 76th Street.

I fantasized that maybe to the old world with all its aristocratic pretentions and unwarranted privilege, went down in the dark Atlantic that night on the world's most modern conveyance, the Titanic.. I enthusiastically welcomed the new age.

I took Billy on a tour of the house from top to bottom. I symbolically awarded him the top floor and told him that he could do anything he like and that Peter would have to ask permission to enter.  Billy excitedly ran from room to room.

I showed him the bedroom where I grew up and he looked with great interest at my playthings.

"Are we still going to look for an apartment?"

I laughed, "No, we're going to live here."

Billy looked at the globe of the earth that sat on my desk. "What's this thing?"

I explained it as he kept spinning it round. I stopped it and touched it where New York City was.

then looking at the globe, he frowned and then looked at me slightly confused.

He said, "I don't get it?"

Maybe he understood that it was a map and what a map was, but he had no idea that it was a spinning ball orbiting around the Sun.

I showed him Mr Robbie's little study next to my room . "How would you like this room for yourself?" Billy was already making himself at home on the quilted feather tick.

A dozen years before, it was Mr. Robbie who was hunched over me in this very bed. He was teaching me how to masturbate and now, it was all reversed with me over my Billy. Except, Billy needed no lessons and raised both legs granting me complete access to his bottom. My cock slid easily in and we christen Mr. Robbie's studio couch for the 1000th time.

When I resolved my urgent need, we dressed and continued our tour.  Half way down the stairs my jizum chose that moment to pour out, soaking Billy's under wear creating a large wet spot in the seat of his pants.  

I told him, "Not to worry, there's plenty of clothes your size in the trunks up in the attic."

Recollections 1904

When I was 14 going on 15 and still a soft and tender boy, I started exploring the underground rail or the subways that were being built all over the city. Consciously I wanted to use them to get quickly from here to there and 5 cents was a bargain.  The subway made exploration to the far-reaches of the city effortless and I wanted to master the system.  Unconsciously or perhaps just secretly, I was already searching the city for sordid and lugubrious encounters.

This was the realm of the sweaty working class. During the morning or evening rush you could not tell if it was day or night but instead, a vision of Dante inferno. Punctuated with blasts of steam, the train itself was the ferry piloted by Charon taking us all to purgatory.  Sweating masses of people, bumping and rubbing up against me, wild eyes, and faces moving with blind deliberation, roaming, loitering and watching. For myself, it was not a fearful vision of hell but was lewd, exciting and pornographic, causing in me an intense and almost constant erection that I could not repress. The toilets imposed a strange allure in me.  One time when I was a bit younger I saw a nigger boy performing oral sex a large well-built laborer.  The image stayed in my mind and haunted me. They didn't seem to care that I was watching them and I didn't move until someone else came in.  In a large station I saw dozens of men urinating in  a group.  Streams of urine splashed into the troth.  One would leave only to have two more arrive. If I didn't look suspicious or out of place, I would have stood all day and watched.  

At the outer reaches, in the smaller stations, there were less people but shocking events were just as frequent. It was here that an Italian laborer who spoke no English invited me to suck his large cock.  I lowered myself and took it into my mouth. He stroked my hair cooing sweet and beautiful Italian words.  

The toilets stunk with the intense smell of ripe urine that was so strong that might burn the eyes. The troth and floor was usually cleaned using a fire hose turned on at full force and once done, it still smelled of urine and smegma.  Why was this so alluring to me?

The City fathers said that they were concerned about morality but this was a deception. Class mixing is what they feared most. The poor, the laboring classes and the downtrodden joining with the educated would give rise to socialism and it was socialism that they feared more than anything.  

June, 1912, The New Age

The three of us moved in my dead mother's townhouse almost immediately.  I had her room cleaned then locked and bolted the door.

Having a chat with Peter, I suggested that maybe he should consider quitting his job at Western Union. The ever cagey Peter gave me a side glance to assess my hidden motives. 

I spoke candidly, "Well, with telephones becoming more and more ubiquitous, it might bring hard times to telegram delivery, especially local ones being delivered one place to another within the city itself. Anyway, we are going to get our own telephone this coming week."

Peter was giving me a suspicious look as if my relationship with him was full of tricks and traps. He didn't really need an excuse to quit but as usual he was holding out for a deal.

"I need you to manage the various contractors I've engaged in modernizing the house. Someone to make sure they are doing the job properly. All the gas lighting must be torn out, so that the entire house can be electrified and the kitchen must be rebuilt,.. Peter, I desperately need your help."

I knew that he really wasn't experienced, but one has to start somewhere. "How is $8 a week?"

He almost took the offer but held himself back and resumed his pensive gaze.

"$10.50?"

Many laborers do not get this much digging ditches all week and his current job would be less if we didn't count his tips.

"$12.75, but Peter, that is my final offer."

"In gold?"

His mischievous smile returned and the deal was done.

This was the perfect time for me to advance my own needs and take hold of his wiry body.  Feeling his crotch and running my hand between his legs and through his behind might provoke him but Peter had to be convinced.  He had to be talked into doing what he really wanted to do all along.  If I didn't play this delicate game with him I would run the risk of having him lose interest. He required a new seduction every time we sexually engaged. It kept our tryst always new, thrilling and interesting.

We kissed deeply putting him on the verge of giving in.  Both of us had lowered our pants and were mutually stroking our cocks. I loved what a sweaty boy he was.  My cock was absolutely rigid. 

"Peter, just take my cock into your mouth and soothe me a little. I promise to hold back my jizum and I will not trouble your rear-end if you do me this small favor."

It was a delicious comedy and we were both playing our parts. Once he complied as a special favor just for me, I rubbed and fingered his dirty hole and lavished it with spit.

Peter protested but offered not the slightest resistance. "Go ahead, treat me like a woman, rob me of my manhood and stick your big ole cock up my shitty asshole if that's what you want but remember you'll owe me a debt if you do."

While penetrating him and building towards a perfect rhythm, I brushed his cheek and whispered into his ear. "Peter, I shall care for you and all your needs forever and ever."

Peter responded with a cool and clever smile.

On an inspection tour that lead us down to the back entrance, there was a horse stall and room for a carriage, but instead, there was a tall black contraption.

Peter said, "It's a Baker Electric."

Billy jumped up and opened the door and climbed in. He was followed by Peter and myself.  The inside was done up like a lady's vanity with gray velvet cushions and tasseled trim.  I wondered what possessed my mother to buy such a thing?

Peter tried the switches and moved the tiller.  "The battery is exhausted, it won't run."

There was a cluster of menacing wires fastened to the wall next to the vehicle that I expect was for a charging device but it had already been bypassed for the coming electrification of the rest of the house.

Knowing how unpredictable and mysterious electricity was I said, "Peter, please don't touch any of that!"

"Edmund, this is a ladies automobile I don't want to be seen being transported in something like this..let me look for something fast and sporty and I'll be your driver."

Knowing Peter he'd probably want an additional pay check for the service.  We both agreed and I asked him to run an advertisement putting the old thing up for sale.

Billy still sitting at the tiller said "I like it!"

Myles Koenig Comes to Visit

My boyhood friend Myles, graduated from the Naval College and was immediately offered a commission in the American Navy, but through his father's connections, was instead considering accepting a commission offered to him by the Imperial German Navy. (Kaiserliche Marine)

Myles spent most of the last 4 years in Germany and has become not only fluient in the German but easily accepted into Prussian aristocratic society. This was mainly due to his handsome and dashing personality. He was sexually liberal and made no secret of it. I would like to claim some responsibility for this latter fact. When he arrived both his parents were still on holiday and not due home until the next day. I invited him for supper and to introduce him to Peter and Billy.  I also suggested that he stay with us instead of an empty and lonely apartment. The same age as I, Myles had grown up to be a well built and extraordinary handsome man. He had become a man full of Teutonic arrogance and self confidence. In his startling blue eyes was the suggestion that we rekindle our sexual relationship without pause.  Upon our initial conversation Myles didn't hide the fact that he had a thing or two to show me.  During the evening meal, both boys were polite and mannerly but they were captivated by Myles' heroic stories and personal bravado. His conversation was imposing and jocular. He was not the shy giggling Myles I once known.

Addressing an enthralled Peter, he said. "I bet you have good luck with the ladies, but remember never tell them you love them, always keep them guessing,.. and never put your cock in the proper hole unless you want to be a father."

This was followed by vaguely tense laughter largely because of Myles' overbearing personality.

It is certainly possible that Myles had calculated the nature of our triple relationship but nothing was said.  Consequently I put the boys in my room and I brought up wine and pastries and planned on spending the night sharing tales of old times in the large front guest room with Myles.

Myles stripped to the waist exposing to me the finest example of manhood I had ever seen. He made muscles with his arms and strutted around the room. Even though my preference was towards boys, I was impressed.

"Und here is the best part."

He opened his pants and lowered his underwear. Lifting his large scrotum with one hand he held up a very large cock with the other.

"How do you like that?"

I was both impressed and intimidated. He moved up closer stroking it into an erect state.  Pulling down his foreskin revealed a large bulbous head and offered it to me. 

"Come Edmund, It will feel wonderful at the back of your throat."

Conjuring up my innate tendency for a rude and pornographic experience combined with the distant familiarity with Myles, the person,  I sucked stroked it to an even more impressive erection.  His ample foreskin retracted until it completely vanished. He wanted to attempt penetration but it looked much too large for me to accommodate.

Come on Edmund, remember the old days.”

Myles insisted and using butter from the pastry tray, he loomed over me like a giant and pushed his advantage.. 

His voice was booming. "How do you like that!"

He went on and on and on until I was in ruins. 

In the morning, knowing that I would not see him again for some time we hugged and reaffirmed our friendship.

He commented on my two boys saying that he would like to have both of them for a night.  Not deny him but more to protect them, I said, "Myles you wouldn't put our friendship in jeopardy now would you?"

Myles was planning marriage into Prussian nobility.  He bragged that in spite of marriage he intended to keep a pied-à-terre in Berlin so that he could continue to fuck boys. I can only describe Myles' obsession with physical culture and manliness as an alluring brutality. I think this is why I prefer boys and not older men.

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