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Toon

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About Toon

  • Rank
    Sex Addict
  • Birthday 04/13/1967

Profile Information

  • Gender
    Male
  • Location
    Suburban Kansas City
  • Interests
    Books, 90's music, zombie movies, rocks, fossils & minerals, paranormal stuff,
  • HIV Status
    Neg, Recently Tested
  • Role
    Versatile Bottom
  • Background
    Midwestern laidback dude with a good brain. Professional, casual,sane.
  • Porn Experience
    none
  • Looking For
    Verbal, aggressive guys who mostly like to top. Poz guys, bearded and hairy guys, and men who like to called "Sir".

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  1. THIS A WORK OF FICTION March 7th, 1998 It would take too long to explain how a gay man like myself ended up being a reporter for a right-wing website. I'd listened to a college adviser who told me that hate was a growth industry. So many people were angry about Bill Clinton being elected for a second time, angry about gays in the military, evolution being taught in public schools, flag burning, immigrants, etc. They needed to hear their own opinions validated. I've been extremely liberal since I was 14 and had accumulated more than enough hours of being bullied by ignorant thugs. I was also an atheist in a region that could best be described as the buckle of the bible belt. Now I had joined their media world. A paycheck is a paycheck, right? One of the editors was vehemently anti-gay and pro-Christian. I knew enough about his kind to speak his language. I'd meet with him on Tuesday mornings to pitch story ideas. I'd done some research about how much tax money was being on AIDS research compared to other diseases and could bang out an article about that in a day and just relax for the rest of the week. If need be, I could even follow up with how much aid we were sending to Africa. "Yeah. Good. Do that, but I got an idea for something with more shock value. My wife's brother is a fag and he told her about this new thing where gays are trying to get AIDS on purpose. Can you believe that shit?! He tried to make it sound like just a kinky fetish thing, but I think it's something else too. I think they want to collect disability so they can just live off the government's dime. Always follow the money and you'll find a story. It's not enough for them to spend eternity in Hell -- they want to rip us off as much as possible first." I couldn't imagine how I'd research this even if it was true. "Can I use your brother-in-law as a source?" "Maybe. Maybe not. He says the bath houses are full of sickos doing this thing. I wouldn't dream of asking you to find information there. Look online...or maybe go to one of them gay bars. We'll cover the expenses of course. Could you handle that?" Oh I could indeed. I'd already been to a couple, but they were all about looks, style and dance music. There was one establishment on my neighborhood that had a leather dress code and a seedy reputation. It was scary--even on the exterior. "Well...I don't know. It seems far-fetched, Boss. Even if guys are really doing this, they probably wouldn't want to talk about it." "Just fish around. Get a quote or two from an 'anonymous source' and we can embellish everything else, 'enhance' the details. Start online and go from there." Making shit up was encouraged around here. We all did it. I went back to my desk and tried to access a local gay chatroom. Blocked. I'd have to do this from my apartment. I took a few 'work from home' days and started my research. The first thing I did was call my friend Randy. He was gay and pretty experienced. "Hey, man. What's up?" "Just shaving my balls again. I can't believe pubes can grow in gray! I blame my mom's side of the family. Bitch. Are you home?" "Yeah. I'm researching a story about gay men who seek out the AIDS virus. On purpose." "Bug-Chasing?" "That's what it's called?" I wrote down the term on a post-it. "So it's real?" "Where have you been, girl?" "Do you know any of these chasing guys?" "Yes. I do, but I'm not going to help you write a story for that fascist web site. We've talked about this. I won't connect you with a chaser or a gifter. You'll have to do that on your own. Go to Club 1815. That's all I can tell you." He sounded somewhat indignant, and I really couldn't blame him. "I don't have enough leather to wear there." "As long as you have boots, a vest and a leather jacket - they'll let you in. I can loan you some stuff, but that's where my participation ends. I love you, but I have principles." "I may take you up on that. So thanks, Randy." Gifter. There had to be those as well as Chasers. 'ScottsdaleM4M.net' was a local chatroom that you had to join and set up a personal profile. Fine. I could do that. As soon as I signed in under the name 'Dino'. There were a dozen users there, but not much chatter. Dino: Any chasers or gifters here? DesertCub: Why? Are you looking for a death fuck? Shubby80: Ignore this guy. He's only been a member for three minutes. Dino: I'm new and curious. I want to learn. DesertCub: Just hang out at Club 1815...lots of toxic sperm exchanged there. I could give you a quick education now...where do you live? I signed off. It was real after all. Maybe I could just invent a story and nobody would ever know it was fiction. Credibility counted for nothing these days anyway. Randy called me. "How's it going, Lois Lane?" "Ugh. I hate it when you call me that. Get some new material, dude." "Be nice to me or I won't take you shopping tomorrow. And lose this grumpy attitude." "Sorry. I went to the local chat room and it was a little scary." "Could have told you that. See you tomorrow morning at 11. You can buy me lunch." March, 1998 I met Randy at his apartment and he waved me in. "God. Do you ever look hungover? I swear this clean living of yours will be the death of me. I've dug out all the leather gear I own, but I doubt much of it will fit you. Maybe the boots -- size 12, right?" "Yeah. I can fit in those." "Everything else we'll have to buy. I have a thin, girlish figure and you...don't." We went out and ate lunch at a taco place before hitting a bizarre adult store called "Playpen". Randy said I could just wear faded jeans and a white t-shirt, but I needed a tough leather jacket and a leather cap. He got me good and outfitted after an hour of shopping. My t-shirt said 'Just Do Me'. The jacket was very Village People and expensive. But I guess I was going undercover. For good measure, Randy insisted I also get some mirrored aviator sunglasses and a leather baseball cap. It was exciting, embarrassing and just so time-consuming. I liked Randy. He was my only gay pal. "Thanks for helping me, guy." "It's all against my better judgement but I'll go with you to 1815 this Friday. You will need my help. I've changed my mind bout the sunglasses... Forget those." "I appreciate that." Randy showed up a little early Friday evening and my hair was still wet. "Change of plans, Sweetie. I've decided to take you to Belle's first. There's a bartender there who knows everything going on in this town. Absolutely everything. He could be a good source for you. Want a drink? I brought some Schnapps." "I thought you'd started A.A. again." "I usually slip on that sixth or seventh step." He bit his lower lip. "I need an elevator instead of steps." The Schnapps was a potent cinnamon swallow -- like liquid Dentyne mixed with radioactive waste. "Ugh. Is this 300 proof or something?" "I'm loving the boots and the jeans. I still think you should have bought that 'Hard Rock Cafe -- Sodom' t-shirt, but you were right. Nobody would get it. Put on the jacket and the cap.on and let me see the whole effect. Hmmm. The jury is still out on the cap. Never mind. Just mess up your hair a little. Here. I'll do it." "Let's finish this and then we'll go. I'm so close to backing out now, just making up a fictional piece and calling it 'news'. It's pretty much all they do there anyway." "Oh. That reminds me...don't bring up the name of that website. Just tell people you're freelance. Did you remember your mini tape recorder?" "Got it." By the time we got to his car, I was slightly but pleasantly buzzed. Randy gave me a few last minute instructions during the short drive. "Act like you've been there a million times and this is nothing new. No offence, but you tend to get these big owl eyes when you're concentrating on something. Relax." Belle's looked like any other pub from the outside. Just the regulation neon beer signs and such. Inside was smoky and loud. I guessed the remainder of the happy hour crowd was still there, smoking and having 'one more for the road'. OK. I was fine with all of this so far. Randy and I sat at the bar as I felt dozens of pairs of eyes aimed at me. "Relax! You're just new and getting scoped out. There's Ted. Be cool and we'll get you a scoop." Ted was a short older guy with a Hawaiian shirt on. He and Randy did that European kissing thing where you peck each other on both cheeks. Randy gestured my way and had a whisper chat with him. I sat there like an alien from Mars. "Good news. Ted will tell you all he knows as long as you don't use his name...or the name of this place. You're with me -- so he knows you're cool. This place will quiet down in about an hour. This is just a place where people warm up for an evening somewhere more fun. He'll come over when he gets a chance. God, you're an owl again! Calm the fuck down. Get this...he almost doesn't believe you're wanting to report on bug chasing -- he thinks you are just a chaser using the writing thing as an excuse. That's not the case is it?" I acted like I was about say something, but just took a drink of whatever he'd ordered instead. I'll admit I was a little more interested than I probably should have been, but not in the chasers as much as the gifters. I needed to look at them and find out what was in it for them. I mean -- it was borderline murder almost. That was exciting to me. "No, Randy. I'm just doing a job. I have to write a hatchet piece about Planned Parenthood next. What is this drink? It's good." "Seven and seven. I'll make it a double next time," he laughed at me. "My little owl." "Here's the thing", Ted explained, "The gift-givers don't even need to advertise much. Some of them might have a biohazard tattoo or a visible lesion on their neck or arm or somewhere. They might weigh 90 pounds. Chasers will spot them and buy them drinks and bat their eyes." He stubbed out his cigarette and promptly lit another one. "But what do they get out of it?" "For chasers, it's a rush, a thrill ride. The givers either like the constant raw sex or they like someone flirting with them after years of considering themselves ruined and undesirable. Maybe it's a revenge thing..you know, like they want to take out their frustrations by shooting a poison load in some clean ass and taking them down too." I'd forgotten to even take out and turn on my recorder. I wasn't on the clock now anyway. Fuck that website. I was fully aware that the subject interested me intensely. Ted had unbuttoned his shirt, exposing his furry chest and nipple ring. "As for the chasers -- they don't have to do much of anything except take raw dick every chance they can. Parks, bath houses, parking lots. It's pretty easy to get AIDS these days. Now there are some guys who want to know the minute they take a dirty load. make it a memorable ritual. If that's the case, it can be tricky. Guys lie...about being negative or positive. There are chasers out there who claim they are HIV- but have had the virus a long time."It's a matterrof trust and you can't trust anybody." His nipples were as erect as a man's could be. Was he flirting? Seducing? Maybe. Did I like it? Yes. "Are there chasers and givers here right now?" "Of course, but I won't out them. I earn a living here, you know? I can't betray a regular, no matter how beautiful your eyes are. Can't. Won't." "I understand, Ted. Thanks. Where's Randy?" "Still here, waiting for you. Hate to break it to you, kid, but I think he wants your bod." "No way. Why? Did he say something?" "No. But you can't be this clueless. Maybe you can. It's after 11:00 now. You two should go to 1815 now. I made a few calls on my phone and lined up some people who will give you interviews. Maybe I'll tag along." "Don't you have to close up here? Finish your job?" "Nah. I'll just call the owner and have him come fill in for me. He just lives up the street and he owes me some favors." He winked. I went back and sat with Randy while Ted punched away at his cell phone. "He wants to come with us. That OK?" "Sure. Didn't I tell you he'd have lots of information?" "He gave me some new perspective. I think this could be a good story -- too good for that wingnut website. I might write it and then send a draft to a different, better outlet." "Here," he gestured to two shot glasses filled with what I guessed with tequila. "An admirer sent these over. I think your cover is blown. I didn't say anything, but word got out. somebody must have heard what you and Ted were discussing...or he told some of his pals." I did a quick scan of the dozen or so guys left in Belle's. If I had to go by looks alone, I'd say there were three guys with the 'AIDS look'. One guy in particular seemed to be trying to catch my eye. He was tall, skinny and had shoulder length black hair. I guessed he was Native American -- at least partly. I smiled at him and he turned away. Guess it wasn't him. A big bear of a man in his fifties walked through the door. Because he got immediately behind the bar, I assumed he was the owner here to relieve Ted. I was right. Ted came over and sat with us. "One cocktail and then we'll go. 1815 makes their drinks way too strong and I can't risk a second DUI." "Hey, Ted -- do you know that long-haired guy over there." "Dante? Yeah. Why? You like that type?" "No. Well...yeah. He's hot. Was he the one who bought us the shots?" Ted shook his finger at me. "I don't tell anybody anything like that. If whoever paid for the drinks wanted to be known, you'd know. You guys about ready?" Ken and the owner said a few words to each other and announced (loudly) "We're going to 1815 now. Wish us luck!" That one guy with the long hair looked at me with blazing eyes. He had to be the one who bought the drinks. I was sure of it. Out on the sidewalk, the wind had picked up and helped clear my head. We were going the opposite direction of Randy's car. It turns out Club 1815 was just a few blocks away. So we walked. Hoofed it. I was a little buzzed, but not enough to not notice the secret eye contact Randy and Ted made. Whatever. I looked behind us and saw a couple of lovey couples embracing and other loners smoking, trying to sober up a little before driving home. Our state had recently changed the blood/alcohol limit to .08. Damn red state. I'm sure my level was higher and was glad I wasn't driving. I turned around to glance back again The drink-buyer had finally exited. I swear his eyes had laser powers or something. He was a big guy and made an impressive shadow on the sidewalk. What part of me wanted to run back and hold him? The booze? The idea of him knowing I was becoming a chaser now. All of the above? God, he was HOT. "They're going to card you, Dean. God -- you should have worn sunglasses. It's cool, though. Like it or not -- you look like a child. No offence.'' "Hush now. I told him not to wear sunglasses. I mean, look at his eyes. He looks exactly like a chaser, doesn't he?" They were both smoking cigarettes, and I suddenly craved one. "Can I bum a smoke?" Ted held his pack out immediately. "Good idea, kid. Nothing ages you faster than a nicotine habit." Huh? We were suddenly outside the front of the famous/infamous Club 1815. "Today is a day that will live in infamy." Which president said that? Roosevelt? Truman? The thumping bass of the music found us and I suddenly kind of wanted to just call it a night and walk home. Maybe the cigarette had sobered me up enough. "He looks scared, Randy. Make him stop." "Give him a minute. Dean -- you have to change that expression. Ted went to a lot of trouble to make sure you'd get people to talk to for your story." OK. Fine. The inside of the place was somewhat insane. I instinctively grabbed Randy's upper arm like some little kid hugging his mom's legs on his first day of kindergarten. Nobody carded me but many sets of eyes turned my way. New Guy Syndrome. I'd never have this advantage again. Ted found a table that had just been cleared and we sat. Randy walked confidently to the bar to fetch us drinks, leaving me alone with lecherous Ted. "There's no story, is there? You are just chasing the bug." "No. There's a story. Really." "IF you are chasing, you just have to say so. I'd gift you and so would Randy. We're both bottoms, but fucking is fucking. My lover is the one who infected me...and we're still together after ten years. He has a huge dick and he'd get you pregnant on the first try." "Randy is positive???" "Yes. Shh. Here he comes." Randy gave us each a 7 & 7 and settled into his chair next to me. "What did I miss?" "Little Dino here wants the bug. He didn't come right out and say it, but you were right." "I didn't say he wanted it...I just said he was curious. He's a reporter, asshole." I just sat there like a potted plant. I shouldn't be here because I'd been outed. I looked around and saw that most of the men were dressed like I was. It was what they call "leather drag". I thought it was pretty hot, but you never saw guys dressed like this outside of a gay setting. Randy had once told me that you could tell tops from bottoms by what side of their body was most adorned with jewelry or chains or straps or something. I just don't remember which side meant what. The music was loud but I didn't see anybody dancing. The lighting was not 'high tech' at all. I wondered if this was the kind of place where AIDS began to first spread in the the early 80's. "OK. Now it's time to go meet the people you want to 'interview'. They're meeting us downstairs." "Downstairs,Ted?? It's his first time here." "He may look like Bambi, but he can handle this. Dean's got the hunger. Right, Boy?" "Yeah. I guess that's a good word for it. Let's go downstairs." There was a basement bar that wasn't as loud but just as committed to the leather fetish...maybe more so. We had just settled at the bar when I realized I had to pee. Badly. The tiny. dim bathroom had one of those long metal troughs instead of individual urinals. I had to go so bad and nobody else was in there. As soon as I unzipped and released a stream of piss, the door creaked open. "Alone at last!" It was a deep, smoky voice I didn't recognize. My dick retreated a bit and the urinating stopped. "Huh? I'm done." I turned and saw a man who was my size, dressed exactly like me, almost. He was late 30's probably and had a thick brown porn mustache. "You're the chaser, right? Ted told us you'd be down here, but he's been known known to bullshit people." "Ted told you I was a chaser and that I'd be here?" This was getting a little too surreal. "Oops. Don't rat me out. It might have been Randy. Is it true you still have your cherry? You won't much longer. I'm Matt...I'm sure we'll meet again soon." He unzipped and hauled out one hell of a penis. "Want to give it a little 'see you later' kiss?" The head of his dick was maroon, slick and shiny. Oh, I wanted to taste that penis. Was he a gifter? "I won't say a word. Will you come sit with us when you're done here?" "Let's go now. I didn't need to pee anyway...I just followed you in here because I wanted to be your first. I'm...well you'll find out later." OK. Maybe it was the booze or just nerves, but I touched my index finger to his piss slit. Sticky. We exited and joined Ted and Randy at the bar. Traitors. I guess you really can't trust anybody. They each looked shocked that I'd brought somebody back from the bathroom. "Matt! Surprised to see you here," Ted said with an arched eyebrow. "No, you aren't. I was lucky enough to meet with your Dean." "You didn't..." "No. No. I just let him get a glimpse. That's all. It was just a preview, guys...I swear." There was a drink waiting for me and I gulped it. The really overweight bartender was watching me and came over immediately and refilled my glass with a clear liquor that I didn't know the name of because his ham-like hand was covering the label. Whatever. I was in a sexy Fellini movie now. I reached my hand over and let it rest on Matt's crotch. I didn't even care if he had HIV...he'd been the first person to be honest with me all night...AND he had a magnificent cock! Randy was competing for my attention. He squeezed my wrist and whispered in my ear. "He's a jerk. Don't let him be your first giver." "You set me up. This was some kind of plan you had? We're no longer friends." "No. This all happened suddenly. Blame Ted. He organized the event." "Event?" "Shit. You're getting pozzed tonight, Dean. It's all set now. If you want to leave -- well, I'll help if I can." "What event?" The bartender turned a little blue light, siren-like thing. It didn't make sound - just spun and flashed. K-Mart Blue Light Special. My negative HIV status was on sale. So be it. About the half of the guys left the basement and went upstairs. The barkeep followed them up and locked the door. One guy was protesting, "Can I at least watch, Barry?" "Fuck no. Did you want an audience watching you that time in April? Either fuck him or leave." He was finally dismissed and the door was re-locked. I turned to Randy. "What's going to happen now?" "Oh, well...there is a warm up period where Barry puts on some porn and guys start taking off their clothes a little at a time. Most of them will come introduce themselves. Oh look -- your secret admirer is here." There he was, lurking in the darkest corner. The tall, dark guy from Belle's. He looked huge...6'7" or more. He had a leather trench coat on and looked so bad-ass. "Do you know him?" "Sort of. I think he's Eskimo or something. He's been after you since you first made a profile on the internet. He runs that website...and he knows where you live. He helped Ted set this whole thing up. I might have also helped." "What's his name?" "It's long and hard to pronounce. Everybody just calls him 'Eon'. Supposedly, he has a strain of the virus that can't be treated. That's just a rumor, though." Some of the crowd were bare-chested now. The bartender,Barry, brought new drinks and I had to wonder if he'd put something extra in mine. He was shirtless as well and his big hairy gut hung out like something alien. I estimated there were sixteen gift-givers here. Eon wasn't drinking and hadn't removed a stitch of clothing. Just stood there smoking. The TV over the bar was showing some vintage porn with no condom in sight. It was set on a farm or a ranch. The sound was low but you could still hear the slurping, slapping and moaning. More clothing was being shed. Matt - who I'd forgotten all about - bumped my shoulder with his. He had stripped down to his underwear and socks and was rubbing his erect dick. "You don't have to kiss it now, but could you kiss me? Hell, why not? Nobody else had come by to 'meet' me. I kissed his mouth and then pulled away. There was grumbling from the others. "I'm not really liked much, but I'm viral as fuck and want to be your first." I needed more to drink. Barry brought us fresh drinks and free shots. Randy was pulling at my sleeve. "Take off your jacket and shirt at least. Everybody thinks you're going to chicken out. And be careful of Matt. Why don't we trade seats...I'll deal with him." I stood up and took off all of my clothes -- even the socks and underwear. All sets of eyes watched and there were some grunts of approval. Others did the same - including Ted and Randy. I thought they were both bottoms. Was Randy really going to fuck me? My friend? The crowd gathered closer. Eon stood right where he was, sizing me up with his stare. I continued to drink as more hard, poz dicks surrounded me. Barry bought shots for all of us and said "It's time, yes? You get to pick your first AIDS fuck -- after that, it's whoever wants you next. You have ten minutes to drink and think while I go get the mat. Well, this was for sure happening. Ted was sporting a nice, fat boner. "You should pick me...I know how to be gentle. Your ass needs to warm up a little." "I thought you only bottomed." "I'll top for a good cause." Barry brought the mat and a big bottle of lube or grease or something. The group buzzed and moved in closer...but not Eon. Had he changed his mind? "OK, It's time to begin the breeding. Dino decides who he wants first and then the line forms. Well, Chaser...who's it going to be?" "Him." I pointed directly at Eon. It had to be him. There were murmurs from the crowd. "Better get the first aid kit, Barry," somebody said.Eon hadn't moved or changed his expression. Randy whispered in my ear. "That wasn't a smart choice, Dean. About half the guys here won't fuck you after he does. The rumor about his super strain are widespread. And he's got a giant dick....not in sexy way way. Just freaky. I wanted your first time to not be your last." Ted had left and then Randy followed. How bad could it be? Wasn't this what gay men did all the time? I was suddenly alone as people moved to make room for Eon who had finally walked over and sat next to me. Barry eyed us warily as he set two new drinks out for us. "Hi, Dino." "Hi, Eon. What happens now?" "We'll talk a little and get to know each other first, And then..." "This all happened pretty fast. Should I be worried?" He laughed and urged me to drink more. "No. This is a gossipy bunch of queens. I will not hurt you any more than what is inevitable. You've got a nice little boy body there." "Why didn't you just pick me up at Belle's? Why did this whole ritual have to be set up?" He lit a cigarette. "You enjoy the chase and I guess I enjoyed chasing you. Not usually how it works, but this is all for you." "Oh. Have you gifted before?" "Yeah. Four of the men carrying my babies are here tonight. I've developed a new lesion on my tongue. Want to feel it?" I didn't even have time to answer before his mouth was on mine and we were Frenching up a storm. There was a little rough spot there, like a little hot button. "Stand up." He removed his coat and nothing else. "Get on your knees and suck my dick." He'd hauled out that famous meat of his. It looked inhuman and darker than the rest of his flesh. "Make it hard." I fed on his dick like I was starving. It was too much for my mouth but I did my best. Ever so slowly, it got thicker and heavier. I could barely even get my lips around the head. Nobody ever told me I should practice this...I just assumed I'd be a natural at it. I thought my lust would give me all the abilities I needed. "Good. Now get on the mat and wait." I wasn't sure what position I should be in so I just lied on my back and looked at the TV light bouncing on the ceiling. Eon was greasing up his monster and his fingers. His shirt was off and I saw his huge tattoo of a wolf in the middle of his hairless chest. He wasn't exactly gentle as he poked a finger into my hole...and then another. "Relax. It'll be so much better if you can avoid tensing up." "It feels funny." "There's a numbing agent in this stuff. I'd never get any ass without this stuff. Ready?" "Yeah." Eon hoisted my legs up in the air and tried to enter me. No way would this work. "NO!!" "Shhh. Relax those muscles and let me in there." I yelled out again, and Barry or somebody turned on loud music to drown out my screams. Eon kept pressing ahead. Ripping, tearing, injury. I might die from this. I really might I opened my fear=filled eyes and looked into Eon's face. "Don't fight this. You only get one first time and you only get one true breeding. Imagine me giving you this gift and try to get your body to match your brain. There you go. See? There you go...I'm almost all the way in now." His voice was deep and so sexy. And he was right - I couldn't let pain ruin this once in a lifetime moment. He took advantage of my openness and started to thrust slowly but steadily. It was starting to feel okay, better than okay. His savage side came out as he got closer to coming. Harder and faster, faster still. "Okay Dino...It's time. It's....AHHH! FUCK! I'm seeding your ass!" His cock had expanded and pulsed as it shot. I didn't feel the load physically, but my mind did. My soul felt every venomous gush. Eon collapsed on top of me and I felt his heart thumping hard, pumping the infected blood throughout his giant body...blood that was similar to mine now. I had a million different thoughts in my head but I let them work themselves out while my animal self just leaned up and kissed his neck. "Thank you." I meant it. "Thank YOU. And you're welcome. You okay? You seem okay -- you're smiling." A few people applauded. "Yeah. I think so." Somebody handed me a plastic container of pre-moistened wipes. "You got three minutes before the next breeder's turn. Do what you need to do." Barry was trying to move the evening along. I cleaned up down there but didn't look at at the used wipes because I knew I'd see blood or poop or something that would wreck the moment. I don't think I even got a full three minutes before Matt was fighting his way to be next. If I could survive Eon, I could survive this guy. Hell - I think I could survived a baseball bat or a traffic cone inside me. I knew that my drinks hadn't been spiked with anything because my mind was wide awake and my thoughts were clear. "More," I thought. "Hi, Baby. Remember me? Ready for a back-up breeding? I'm used to getting Eon's seconds." "That's a great mustache, Matt." "Yeah. Thanks. I'm going to write my number on you with a marker. Lots of guys here will do that." He wasted no time in just planting his rod straight into me. It hurt, but either the magic lube or the defeated nerve endings in my ass kept it from being a painful experience. I could finally just enjoy the fucking. Matt's verbal skills and technique were superb, and I thoroughly enjoyed him. He came and I didn't get a second break before another guy was taking his turn. And then another. And another. Barry made me get on all fours so he could do it from behind. The only fuck that wasn't too memorable was Randy. He just wanted to blow his nut and leave. A few of the givers went at me a second time. "Hell, kid! You took almost 20 loads and it's barely even 2 AM! You can go use the bathroom by yourself now. If you want more toxic seed, we'll have to move this party to some body's house." Eon helped me to my feet and handed me my clothes and shoes. Swell guy. He walked me to the bathroom and told me he'd stand guard until I was finished. I sat on the toilet for a long time and tried not to hear the sounds coming from down there. I also flushed without looking at the aftermath. I got dressed and fixed my hair as best I could. It never once occurred to me to look into my reflected eyes to see the non-virgin, HIV+ changes. Who the hell cared?? The crowd had mostly cleared out when I returned. Only Eon, Randy, Matt and Barry remained. Ted must have left a long time ago because I don't remember sex with him. "He's back! Time for a toast!" I went and sat next to Eon as the shots were served. He kissed me on the cheek. "Have mine. I don't usually drink...kills my boner." "Your boner is amazing, man." I gulped both shots and kind of wished for another. "I'm going to have a beer - do you want a Coke or something?" "No. Have your beer fast and then we should go. The last call crowd is pretty crazy upstairs." Eon drove me home but wouldn't accept my invitation to come in. He seemed very tired, but made sure I had his number. I ended up quitting my job at the hack website and working for my first gifter. He needed help with his emerging web company and wasn't always feeling very well. We slept together as often as we could but didn't move in together. Either I loved him or was just obligated to him. Or both. He just called me from St. Luke's hospital. They are keeping him until his fever goes down. I need to wrap this up now so I can see him. THE END
  2. Thanks! As I just told another reader, I never really intended for this be a continuing story. Maybe there's more that needs to be told. Stay tuned.
  3. I really didn't plan for this to be a continuing story. I tend to end the tale once the gift-giver and bug-chaser complete their task. But that's not a hard and fast rule. I think I need to probably continue Kevin And Dennis's adventures.
  4. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION 1985 Xana, Kansas Worst year of my life. But then again, I've been saying that just about every year since I started high school. It really went to hell at that point people started to notice I was 'different'. Up until that point, I had a regular life. Almost regular. My two best friends were my sister Janice (a year younger than me) and the most popular boy in the world. He was everything I wasn't: athletic, good-looking, and fearless. Kevin and I started as friends because we lived on the same block and our moms would get together daily to watch soap operas and drink highballs. But then...but then puberty hit us all like a tsunami. Everybody was changing except for me. The girls got periods and boobs while the boys turned into actual men. The only different thing about me was my new love for music and acting. It was a discovery made when our music class would put on theatrical shows twice a year. At the end of the first semester we always did "A Christmas Carol" and something random in the Spring. I never got a leading part, but I didn't even care. Toward the end of my Sophomore year, I got the role of Linus in "You're a Good Man Charlie Brown". I was so excited because there was a solo part of me dancing and singing to my blanket. According to Janice, the whole school and even some of the adults were talking about my performance, and obviously gay I was. Apparently I was a little too into it and had practically glided on air. She claimed an older couple behind her were debating whether I was a boy or a girl. The news came as a heavy blow and it ruined my life. I was a "faggot'...and everybody knew it. Even Kevin turned on me. High school was going great for him and he couldn't risk hanging out with me. He couldn't even risk NOT bullying me out in the open. He would push me against lockers, spit on me and call me every possible homosexual slang term there was. And just to make everything worse, Kevin and my sister were dating. I felt like I'd lost everything and everybody. I held everything together waiting for this day...graduation. I wanted to get far away as if enough distance would erase the first 18 years of memories and pain. I'd skip college because that seemed like a continuation of high school and I'd already done my time. I had three possible plans in mind with what to do with the college funds set aside for me: 1. Move to Australia, work some menial job there and never come back. 2. Move to L.A. and try to get an acting job. 3. Take a trip to Hawaii and jump into an active volcano. What I ended up doing was just staying home and retreating into books, TV and booze. My parents were both functional alcoholics and not the violent, mean kind -- they were happy and clueless kind. They must have assumed I was just taking some time off to figure out a plan. My plan was to raid their liquor cabinet as often as I could. My sister did the same, but she was never at home. She'd broken up with Kevin for reasons she wouldn't go into. I'd already assumed she lost her virginity since Janice had been boy crazy since first grade. I was predicted she'd be knocked up and/or married before her senior year. We were both pretty much unsupervised, but she was the only one taking full advantage. I was just a boring, garden-variety delinquent. One July morning I got out of bed just in time to see Mom walk out the door with her big purse. This meant she was going over to hang out with Kevin's mom and get good and plastered. She'd left a note for me. Dennis -- If you can, please water the flower beds and also give the grass a good soaking. I love you! The fact that we had one of the nicest yards in town was a great disguise for the secrets inside. People talk in a small town no matter how green your lawn was. Our family unit consisted of two drunk adults, a teen slut and a fag. Whatever. I mixed a generous rum and coke in a plastic quart cup from the convenience store and went out to attend to the greenery. It was hot as hell and also very dry. There was a region-wide burning ban in place for the fifth week. I was almost finished with everything when I felt a tap on me shoulder. It was Kevin. "Hey man. There's two partying old chicks at my house so I thought I'd come over and say hi." Hi indeed. He was pretty obviously stoned...and looking really good. I'd made a point of never looking at him these past few years. He had filled out completely and still had the same dirty blondish hair I remembered. He was a few inches taller than me and solid as steel. He was wearing flip-flops, swim trunks and an ancient Foreigner concert t-shirt. Only a year ago I would have been thrilled to have him talk to me again, but now I had my guard up. "Why are you here? Won't you get point deductions for even being near me?" "I'm sorry. No. I really am. None of that shit matters now, OK? I should have never treated that way." "No you shouldn't have. But again, why are you here?" "Hey - can I have a sip of what you're having?" I hated myself for forgiving him so easily, but maybe I'd find out why he and my sister broke up. "Come on in. I'll make you one and we can play Atari or something." "Cool." We went into my dark living room and helped ourselves to the abundant booze. I was still suspicious, but this felt like old times. Kevin and I, squandering a precious Summer day. Only with cocktails. We sat like yogis in front of the TV and played "Burger Time". It was the only game I'd never beaten, but I was still beating Kevin's scores. After we'd had our fill of the crappy graphics and annoying music, Kevin suggested we go out in the back yard for a smoke. As nice our front yard looked was how crummy the back was. "I see your dad still has a hammock up. Remember how we took turns getting all wound up in in it and pretending we were one of Spider-Man's enemies caught in his web?" Of course I remembered that. Kevin produced a joint from somewhere and lit it. I guessed it might have been his third one of the day. Kansas deserves all the negative impressions people have of it, but the homegrown weed is hardy plentiful here. Janice and I gotten stoned together before we'd ever had a taste of booze. "So what happened between you and my sister?" "She didn't wait for me when I went to go visit my uncle in L.A. for three weeks. It wouldn't have lasted anyway, Dennis. She is a wild child. Did you know she had an abortion last Monday?" "No way!" "Yup. In Wichita. I had to pay for half even though I doubt the baby was mine. We should go to the pool." I wasn't in shock, just sad that she didn't tell me. Oh well. Janice and I were basically just strangers now. "Los Angeles, huh? I wanted to move there after graduation - to be an actor. Lost my courage." "You'd be a great actor, but it's a dangerous place. Trust me. I'm going to go there again and live with my uncle. Maybe I'll be a bartender or something. Maybe you can come live with us. Yeah -- that would be cool. My uncle would love you!" "I don't ever remember you talking about an Uncle in California..." "Well -- he's not my real uncle, but I'll explain more later. My parents are going to Chicago for the weekend....you can come spend it with me and I'll fill you in on everything. Can you?" "Yeah. Sure. My parents are going to the Ozarks this weekend. I guess you don't want me to bring Janice." "Oh -- maybe it's the Ozarks I was thinking of. You never know what they're up to." What? He was full of information about something. But what? I could have asked more questions but I had a real nice buzz going. For whatever reason I stood up, climbed into the hammock and spun myself into a cocoon, "Curse you, Spider-Man!!!" By Friday, I'd tried to put all the pieces together but there were too many missing. Were my parents going away for the weekend with Kevin's parents? Why did he have a fake uncle? Why was I so quick to forgive the guy who'd made my life hell for three years? And what was the deal with Janice? She and I used each other as a sounding board years ago. She probably needed one more than ever now. Oh well...it's not like she didn't know where to find me. My mom and dad were packed and ready to go by 4:30 that afternoon. It was an almost seven hour drive to the Ozarks. They would have left earlier but cocktail hour lasted longer than they'd planned. Mom had changed her hair and put on maybe a tad too much makeup. "So you're spending the night at Kevin's house? Good. You two used to be so close. He's a little cocky, but mostly a decent kid." They left the house in a flurry of cologne and alcohol fumes. Janice wasn't home. I helped myself to a drink while wondering what the hell I was supposed to bring over to Kevin's house. When I was a kid I always took my sleeping bag and pajamas, but that was a million years ago. Oh well -- I could always come back and get what I needed. I didn't want to walk half a block with an overnight bag in broad daylight anyway. "Hey! Come on in. Mom and Dad just left." "So did mine." "What a coincidence," he laughed. "So what do you know that I don't?" "Only thousands of things. Come on....we've got all weekend to talk." He led me to the basement for some reason. It was like all the other basements around here; bare concrete floors, mouse droppings and a ping-pong table that usually had boxes of Christmas decorations on top of it. It had changed. Big time. It was a large, furnished, plush area with carpeting and a bar. "Wow! When did all this get done?" "A few years ago. It's a 'play space'." What? It looked a little too fancy and grown up to be somewhere where you'd gather to play board games or charades. "And check this out..." Kevin walked over behind the bar a flipped on some dim colorful lights on the walls and ceiling. It was cool but still confusing. I sat on one of the giant leather couches and waited for the next magic trick. "I have some questions, Kevin." "I know. I'll tell you everything you want to know. In case you don't want to know any more as I'm talking, just say the word and we'll go upstairs and wait for 'Nightmare Theater'. Can you believe it's still on? Same old guy too." Talk." He was barefoot, wearing the same swim trunks and a Spider-Man t-shirt that he'd probably had since junior high. It was faded and way too small for the broad chest and shoulders he'd developed. "OK. I'll start out small and go from there. Remember, as soon as you feel uneasy -- we stop." "OK" "First of all, your sister is sleeping with Coach Glover, from school. They've been together for a few weeks now." "No way! He's old and married and has kids!" "Well, Janice has already dated every other guy in town. It's coach's turn now." I hated that guy. How could he fool around with young girls when he had a handicapped kid at home? When exactly did I lose her? "So are my parents and your parents going to the same place?" "Yup, but let's back up a little...does this room remind you of anything?" I looked around with new eyes. It was suddenly so obviously meant for sex and seduction. Why else was Kevin so cryptic? "It's a sex room, right?" "Very good! You've earned a drink. Come over to the bar and I'll serve you." It was so fancy. I took a seat on one of the stools and noticed the blue and red neon lights above the liquor bottles. Pretty. Kevin handed me some type of fizzy clear drink in a tall glass. "So your mom and dad remodeled all of this just for a place to have sex?" "Sex parties. They're swingers. You know what that means, right?" I did. I learned about them on HBO. "And guess what else? So are your mom and dad." Fucking hell! I could never look them in the eye again. "No. I mean...how do you know?" "Ready to go upstairs now, or do you really want to know?" The world had tilted so severely on its axis, that I was ready to hear everything. "Go on." "Well these people have parties all over the country. They all get in a room and it becomes a big orgy. And it gets very weird after they've smoked enough weed and snorted enough cocaine. Want to try some? Anyway, my 'uncle' Ray got super out of it and wandered up to my room where he fucked me in the ass." "No! How old were you? Did you tell anyone?" "I was legal...I was born three months before you. It hurt like hell, but just enduring it got me invited downstairs to join in. I fucked Miss Stucky from the library. Mrs. Strotkamp sucked my dick. I don't know if any of our parents noticed because they were either wrecked or ... busy." I gulped my drink all the way down. I knew too much and wanted to go home or go to Australia or kill myself. "Did you?...." "NO. I never did anything with your mom or your dad." "So your fake uncle molested you and you still went out to L.A. to visit him?!" "Don't say 'molested'. I could have kicked his ass if I wanted to. It hurt and all, but it wasn't that bad in the end. My California trip out there was a sex vacation. He hosted great swinger parties all the time. I had sex with so many woman and men." "But...but what about AIDS? Aren't you afraid of that?" He'd mixed me another drink. "Nope. By the time it gets here, everyone will have it. I already tested positive for the HIV. You can get it from kissing. These are The End Times, Dennis. Enjoy life while you still have it." This was too much -- way too much. I remember the days when I'd spend the night and we'd stay up and play poker while watching old scary movies. "So you've..uh..done stuff with gay guys?" "Oh yeah. It's no big deal. Sex is sex. You'll find out some day." I remembered all the times I heard him call me 'fag' and 'homo'. All I did was dance and sing to a blanket on stage, while he was essentially the same as me - actively. "It's not so bad sucking a dick when you focus on how it feels to get yours sucked. It's probably my favorite thing in the world to shoot a wad in somebody's mouth." He was looking at me carefully and I noticed how his face had changed. He was still genetically cursed with dark circles under his ice-blue eyes. The neon lights did him no favors. I finished off the second drink. "Is that all?" "Just one more thing. I talked to Uncle Ray last night and told him about you wanting to come to L.A. to be an actor. He's got a huge house near the beach and wants us BOTH to come and live with him. Wouldn't that be cool? Us in L.A.? It's a whole new world there." "I...So I...never mind." I wish I could be 12 years old again, sitting on Janice's bedroom floor and spilling out all the things I was thinking, feeling. We used to do that all the time. "That's all. Are you okay?" "Yeah. I...got any weed?" "Of course. You haven't heard the sound system yet. I picked up some great music in L.A. Bootlegs and stuff you'd never hear in Kansas." He magically produced a fat joint from somewhere and held it between his lips as he fiddled with some stereo stuff. "You should hear the thumpa thumpa stuff they usually listen to down here. Here's a mix tape i made from my collection. I like punk that's not the angry stuff. It has a melody, but not like what you're used to. Give it a chance." I was sitting on the floor, wishing we could just play poker or war or something. The speakers were hidden and I could swear there must have been dozens of them. The sound was rich and filled the room like a heavy fog. Any kind of music would have been a pleasure to listen to. "What group is this?" "'Heavy Disharmony'. The drummer gave me a blow job once, but that's not why I like it. This is just the sound I dig now. Like it?" I did. It sounded so different and so exciting...and kind of sexy somehow. Kevin came over and sat on the floor with me. "You always liked being on the floor -- I remember now." We shared the joint and listened without talking. It was good because I didn't want to hear anything besides this. "OK. This next song is a dud -- want another drink? I've got dry mouth something terrible." The song was in fact not very good, but the sound still shined. "My uncle says I could make a lot money if I started stripping in clubs out there. You think I could be good at that?" "Probably. You've got a good body. Like in a gay bar or something?" "Mostly. Those guys tip like crazy if you show a little ball sack...and even more if you fuck them." "Wow. The last time I danced in front of people, my life was destroyed." "You're taller and bigger now. You maybe need to work out a little. It can only help you get acting jobs if you're buff. I'll show you. Not to this song. The next one." "The songs are so long." "Because this was all recorded live. It's not three minute Madonna song, Dennis." Kevin stubbed out the roach and stood up. "This next song is one you're going to remember forever." I think he was building it up too much. But okay. The opening of the song was mostly drums and the bassist playing a ditty that I almost recognized somehow. Shit! What was this? Kevin stood a few feet away from me and started grinding his hips. He said I'd remember this song forever, and he was exactly right about that. He slowly peeled off his t-shirt and didn't miss a beat. He was only wearing those trunks and had obviously worked himself into a hard-on. Was he teaching me or trying to seduce me? I didn't care. Then the singer finally started in.... Spider-Man, Spider-Man/Does whatever a spider can/Spins a web, any size..." It was a punk/pop version of the old cartoon theme song. He smiled at me in the most delicious way. He was grinding away, humping the air. My face must have given something away because he started to tease down his swim trunks. There were his minimal pubes -- I wanted to smell them, inhale his funk. The dance was deliberately effective and I knew he's make a ton of money on the coast. It's about then that I realized I was still on my knees but standing up to his crotch level. My position was was just as suggestive as his dancing was. He stepped out of his swim shorts like a seasoned professional. ...To him, life's a great big bang up/Wherever there's a hang up/You'll find The Spider-Man Kevin's cock looked better, thicker than I would have guessed. Impossibly hard and sticking straight out. There's no way I could ever be as confident as he was. He said something, but I couldn't hear it above the music. He danced closer until his dick was just inches from my face. The momentum of all this had reached warp speed. The head of his dick poked me in the cheek, and then my right eye. I wanted him to stop dancing and just let me suck him off. Viruses be damned. I wanted this. As soon as the slick head of his penis went past my lips, he stopped the strip tease at last. I just swallowed as much of him as I could. There was a taste and a smell of a sour dishrag briefly -- probably from those damn swim trunks he wore constantly. He grabbed the back of my head and just thrust his strong hips back and forth like a machine. Is he strong? Listen,Bud/He's got radioactive blood I wondered if he was going to cum in my mouth and I wondered if he knew how much I wanted him to. But no. He stepped back as a line of drool strung out of my mouth and caught a random purple light from overhead somewhere. It glowed. He pulled a mat from underneath one of the plush couches and pushed me down on it. Wait -- didn't I get a say in any of this? It was an almost too familiar feeling of being abused in high school. I guess I'd given my consent by not even trying to fight back. I was on my stomach with Kevin's full weight on top of me. He put his mouth close to my ear "This won't feel good the first time, but I'll make it quick. Hang in there, buddy. He just jabbed his hard dick into my asshole before I even knew what was happening. gear GOD! PAIN! Maybe being everyone's punching bag for years had toughened me up because I didn't yell or cry. Those instinctive responses had been suppressed in me for too long. He pumped away faster and faster. This was gay sex. In a sex basement. It hadn't even ended and I was ready to do it again. He stopped, bent down to me ear again "I just blew my nut. How do you feel?" The music had stopped. "Uh...bathroom?" "It's to the right of the bar. There's a shower in there now. Just do what you need to do, take your time." I used the facility without looking at myself in the mirror. That would need to wait a day or two. There was mouthwash there - which I used while wishing there was such a thing as 'asswash'. When I came out, Kevin was back behind the bar and mixing us more fizzy drinks. "Everything OK?" "I'm fine. What time is it?" "A little after 10. Have a seat...want some peanuts or chips or something?" "Maybe later. So I guess I'm not a virgin anymore." What a retarded thing to say. I needed that drink. "No, but it was about time, don't you think? The good news is that you hardly bled at all. And I didn't even use lube. I bled like crazy the first time Ray fucked me. You were turned on and having fun -- that makes all the difference." "Yeah. Just think -- we could have done that years ago. But I guess you were too busy doing my sister. So I'm going to get AIDS now?" "No. You don't get it from just one fuck. You might possibly have the virus now, but it could be ten years or more before you get the disease. That reminds me...." He went and retrieved a cordless phone. Who the hell was he calling? Oh. Never mind. I should have guessed. "Hi! Did I wake you up from a nap or are you just out of it? Oh. Yeah -- he's here. Ask him yourself, dude. No. No. Oh just let him tell you. Uh...OK. I promise. I don't know, man. Ask him." I knew he was going to hand me the phone. He did. "Hello?" "Dennis! Having fun? Kev showed me your senior picture and you're a handsome young lad. Did you skip a few grades? You look like a kid." "No. Just a late bloomer I guess." "Well I can't wait for you guys to get out here so you can enjoy some sunshine. I'll hook you up with Hollywood people too." "Yeah. Uh huh." My butt hole hurt like a stomachache. Pause. "I'll let you boys get back to your Friday night. Good talking to you, Dennis." "Thanks. You too. Here's Kevin." I handed over the phone. "Yeah. Well -- he's a little shy. No. I know. Let me handle it, OK? Yeah. Bye." "So...that was Uncle Ray, huh?" "The one and only. Neither of you make good first impressions - no offence. He's super excited to meet you though." He handed me a fresh drink and then came out to sit next to me at the bar. "He knew that tonight was the night I was going to break you in. I told him it went just fine." "Break me in?" "I couldn't bring a virgin out to L.A. You understand. He wants me to get you used to the idea of sex for fun. Want to fuck again in the morning?" "Maybe. I need to think about stuff...talk about it." "Thinking is fine, but overthinking is a waste of time. Can you suck me again?" "Not now." I kind of wanted to taste his sperm in my mouth. There was no going back from here. In the chill of the night/At the scene of a crime/Like a streak of light/He arrives just in time
  5. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION 1995 I was in the middle of my sophomore year of college when I suddenly realized that all of my closest friends were from single-parent families or 'broken homes'. All of my crew had seen some trouble in their childhood. Alcoholism, divorce, suicide, periods of homelessness, etc. I knew nothing of those things in my own history. My parents were boring, white, middle-class and stable. I began to wonder why I had chosen these friends and/or why they'd chosen me. Years later I asked a therapist about this and her response was fairly sensible. "Maybe they're drawn to your stability...or you are drawn to their chaos. Or maybe it's just a fluke." OK. My best friend Andrea never knew her real father. She just referred to him as 'my sperm donor'. I always played with that term in my head. I'd imagine random dudes walking up to one of those red kettles you see next to people ringing a bell and jacking off into it. The whole thing would be close to overflowing with milky sperm by the end of the day. It was fun to fantasize about. I never talked about it, but probably everyone knew I was gay. I was never asked. 1999 I'd graduated with a degree in Industrial Design...which was just something I happened upon. You know your TV remote? The shape of it and the spacing between the buttons was all decided by an industrial designer somewhere. Not all that interesting -- except to other designers. I was recruited by a company in a decent-sized city with a depressingly-large Mormon population. I'd always thought those freaks were all kept in Utah, but apparently they had taken over other places. I'd put in a good year or two at this place before looking elsewhere. I pretty much hated everything about my new life. The job itself wasn't so bad, but most all of the citizens were religious zombies with six or seven kids. I couldn't escape them. The only people I talked to on a regular basis were the brassy, overweight secretary at work (I swear Bette Midler could play her in a movie) and one of the janitors in my apartment building. Roy was a friendly little Mexican bear with a winning smile. I guess he liked me because I didn't look down on his job or have the lofty attitude that so many of the white-collar young snots in my building had. I always said 'hello' when I saw him when he was mopping or vacuuming or whatever. He spoke perfect English (with only the faintest of accents) and came across as pretty intelligent. "Good morning, Roy. Are you always on the clock?" "Seems like it, doesn't it? I'm going through a divorce right now and I need all the hours I can get." "Sorry to hear that. Kids?" He shook his head 'no'. "No, I suppose that is a blessing." "Oh well...I'm running late. Gotta get to work." "Have a wonderful day, Tim." Well, it was the opposite of 'wonderful'. I fell om some rain-soaked concrete steps outside and broke my damn ankle, Because it happened on company property, the security team made me give a pee sample. My understanding is that if I were on drugs or drunk, they wouldn't be liable. Because I was clean, they had to cover all of my hospital bills and give me time off. It was a generous amount of leave because they were legally obligated. Luckily, it was a simple break and wouldn't require surgery. The pain pills kicked ass. I was pretty much helpless while medicated but I didn't care. I had cable TV and the internet. This would be a sort of drugged vacation. Worse things happened to people. I got around pretty well with crutches. TV game shows and reruns got tiresome within 48 hours. Computer porn didn't do much for my boredom because the pain pills had numbed me in all kinds of unhelpful places. I only left the apartment to get my mail, a newspaper or a soda from the vending machine. It was on one of those little ventures out that I ran into Roy. "Holy Christ! What happened to you??" "I broke my ankle, but I'm healing fast." "Your right foot - so you can't drive, right?" "No. Not for another sixty days." "Do you need things from the store?" "Nah. I have an attendant who comes by every other day to get me what I need. I don't even have to pay for any of it." "Thanks be to God. You look very tired." "Just the pills. I came down to get a Mountain Dew so I could wake up a little." "Stay there. I'll get it for you. Bottle or can? They have both." "Can's fine. Thanks." He returned with a Dew and wouldn't let me pay him. "It's cool. I got a key to the machine. I'll bring you another one later after I clean the windows down here." "I appreciate it, Roy. I'll leave the door unlocked because I sometimes fall asleep and don't hear the knocking." He seemed surprised by my offering of trust. "No no. Lock your door. I have keys to every apartment." "Oh. OK." "I will always knock first." "OK. Well...drop by any time. My schedule is all messed up when I'm not working." On the elevator ride back up, I wondered why I didn't feel uneasy about some guy being able to just walk right into my home. I guess it's the reality of apartment living. You never really own anything as a renter -- not even privacy. And Roy was a good person. I believed that, I watched some really dumb game shows for a few hours, and then there was the 'knock' I'd been looking forward to. "Come on in." Roy entered and was a little pissed off that I hadn't locked the door. He was carrying a six-pack of Corona and a Mountain Dew. "You think this place is so safe? It seems that way, but it's really not." "I'm pretty medicated, Roy. I forget things." "I'll lock it for you when I leave. I brought us some beers. You like Corona?" I'd never tried it. "Yeah, but I can't drink alcohol while taking these pills. Have one yourself, though." "Great. I need one. I like your place...your TV is very big. My soon-to-be ex wife kept ours and now I just watch a little portable thing with a broken antenna." He opened a beer and rested it on his knee. "Life sure hasn't turned out like I'd hoped." That was the kind of statement that is meant to prompt followup questions, so I obliged. "How did you want it to turn out, Roy?" "I wanted to stay married and raise a bunch of kids and give them happy lives. It wasn't meant to be." "Your wife couldn't have children?" "Wouldn't have them. Not with me anyway." "Oh. Sorry." "There's more to it, but I don't much like to talk about that stuff. Not now." He had a few more beers and then left the rest of the in my refrigerator. After a few more doctor appointments, I was told I was close to 100 % healed. Good news except they cut me off the pain pills cold turkey. I had no idea how much I'd depended on them, but at least I only had a few sleepless nights instead of some crazy freak out like you see on TV shows about addiction. I still had a bit of a limp but was assured that it would go away in a few weeks. During all this progress and healing, Roy was a frequent visitor. I wondered if I was his only friend. He had really been my only friend for the last two months. We talked for hours...well, he talked mostly while I listened. He needed an outlet for his frustration and grief about his failed marriage and lack of children. "I had nine brothers and sisters. Nine! We were so close and took care of each other." "Are you Catholic?" "Yeah, technically. But that's not why I want kids. I can't explain it. So, you back to work on Monday?" "Yup. I'm actually looking forward to getting back into a routine." "Well - we have to celebrate on Saturday night. I'll cook you dinner and bring some wine. You stopped the pain pills, right?" "Yeah, but you don't have to cook for me, man. We can go out somewhere." "Too late.I already bought most of the stuff. You have skillets? Pans?" "Yes. Rarely-used ones." He chuckled and left. My oven had only been used for cooking frozen pizza, and my stove had never been used. Mom had loaded me up with cookware when I first moved here. Is it weird that I was sort of thinking of the upcoming dinner as a 'date'? I told myself it wasn't. He was straight and not at all what you'd call 'my type'. So anyway. I got up pretty ear;y on Saturday morning and went to the mall. I needed the walk -- to help rebuild my leg muscles and also to burn off some nervous energy. I picked up assorted things here and there...throw pillows, scented candles, wine glasses and these really snazzy rock coasters with what looked like fossils inside. It wasn't a date, but I was preparing as if it were. I'm stupid. Roy was a friend - not a suitor. Of course he arrived early - before I had fully settled myself into the right mood. "Wow. It smells nice in here. Candles? I need to get some of those." He came with two loaded bags of stuff and went directly to my kitchen like he lived here too. "Cool - wine glasses! I forgot to even ask you if you had any." He clanked around at my oven and shelves while I just stood like a giant pigeon in the middle of my living room. I thought about turning the TV on but was thinking maybe I should go keep him company in the kitchen while he cooked. "You got some music? I like to hear music when I cook." "What do you like?" "It's your party, buddy. Pick something and I'll pour us some wine." This would require a little thought and I wasn't prepared. I stuck in David Byrne's first solo CD. I loved it and it was very influenced by Latin culture. It started and was maybe a little too loud. I went to the kitchen. Roy had pretty much taken over everything and was already browning some crumbled meat in a skillet and adding various seasonings. The oven was also on. He handed me a glass pf dark red wine. "Casa Medaro. It's not easy to find. Try it." I knew absolutely nothing about wine except that the few times I'd tasted it I hadn't liked it so much. "It's good, huh?" It was...which is good because he brought three bottles of it. "What are you making? It smells wonderful." "This and that. Pull up a chair and chat with me as I chop vegetables...these knives look like they've never been used." They hadn't. "Doesn't mean you don't have to sharpen the from time to time. My father taught me that." I finally noticed how Roy was dressed. I'd only ever seen him in his dark blue coveralls but now he was in a nice polo shirt, shorts and sandals. His short, powerful legs were covered with black fur and I had this image of him standing in the shower with rivulets of water tracing little paths through the thick black hair. His wife was an idiot for letting him go. The food was incredible and I might have overdone it with the compliments. We'd already polished off one and half bottles of wine by the time the meal was finished. I blew out the candles when we came back into the living room. Their scent wasn't making much headway against the cooking smells. I turned the music down a little and told my guest to make himself comfortable. Now what? I didn't want to overthink this. "Whoa. Cool coasters. Are those little fossils? You should have seen all the fossils I used to find in Coahuila. That's where my parents are from. Let's finish up the second bottle. My divorce was final as yesterday. I don't have any more legal bills, but I also don't have much of anything else either. Bitch got everything." "Everything??" "Yeah. In every way possible." "Your lawyer should have worked harder on your behalf." "Let's just say that she had me over a barrel. Let's open the last bottle. I have two more at my place if we decide we need more." He took off his sandals which I guess some would consider rude, but I liked that he felt at home here...plus it gave me a chance to admire his fat little toes. He padded back to the kitchen and fetched the tasty wine. I don't think I'd ever drank so much and still felt so alert and mostly normal. My antenna was up because I'd been around troubled people for so long and it seemed like he wanted to talk about something, but I couldn't push him right now. "Want to watch a movie?" He shook his head and handed me a way-too-full glass. "No no. Let's just talk. Tell me what your job is again...I still don't quite understand what you do." "I design everyday things to make them easier for people to use. Right before my accident, we were working on new ATM machines. They have to be the right height and simple to understand and also look nice. The bank rejected our first proposed design because it didn't look 'friendly'." Roy nodded as if he understood. "So yeah...I have HIV." What? Wow. I mean, wow. I wasn't expecting that. "Is that why you're getting a divorce?" "Pretty much. That's really your first question? Huh. I figured you'd ask me how I got it...." "I shouldn't have asked anything. I should have just said 'I'm sorry.' Blame the wine. I'm not a drinker." "So...do you want to know?" His eyes were full of hurt. "Only if if you want to tell me, Roy." He shrugged. "It was so stupid. I never went to college, but I always followed my friends when they went to Padre Island for spring breaks. Drunk chicks with hardly clothes on and lots of alcohol automatically guarantees a good time. But stuff goes on there. Bad stuff. That's all I can say for now." "It's fine, Roy. I mean it's not 'fine'...it's just... I'm fine. I was blessed with a really good pair of ears in case you need to talk." "I know this. My wife is still negative somehow. But she wouldn't go near my dick after I told her. I wanted so much to have kids... lots of them. Magic Johnson's wife didn't leave him and she had one of his babies even." "And that was a while ago. There are probably all kinds of new drugs now." "Yeah. Probably too expensive for me. You're a guy, Tim...don't you wish you could spread your seed? It's biological. I can't even give away my genes now." "Some people are missing limbs or have brain damage, Roy. Some people don't even get the chance to be alive. My mom had three miscarriages before I was born. I'm not diminishing your pain or anything, I'm just saying that life is a roll of a dice." He looked down and took another sip of wine. "I wish I had donated sperm when it was clean...then at least I might have some kids out there somewhere." I tried to cheer him up by telling him how I used to imagine guys donating sperm on the street. He looked at me funny. "That's a very strange thing to imagine, Tim. It's...it's so sad that nobody would even pay a cent for my seed now." "I would." "What? OK, no more wine for you, buddy. You have been over-served." "Not so much, really. You told me a big secret and now I'll tell you one -- I'm gay." His expression didn't change in the slightest. "Yeah. I guess maybe I knew that. You're too clean and too polite. I'm totally straight, but if I was gay I'd marry you so fast." That was a very nice thing to say. I would have accepted his proposal. "Thanks, Roy. You'd make a great husband -- even if you weren't handsome and couldn't cook such great food." He smiled at last. "You think I'm 'handsome'?" "Oh yeah. Very." "I still think you're just too drunk." Unless I was very much mistaken, he had dropped a hand to his crotch to hide a growing boner. "I can help you with that." Shit. Maybe I was drunk. "You...you'd suck me? Even with the HIV?" I hadn't even meant oral sex -- I was just going to jack him off, but okay. "It's pretty much safe. I'd even pay you for the chance." "Yeah. I won't touch you and I won't cum in your mouth. Ten bucks." "Deal." I hadn't even bothered to notice how things were moving. It seems like we were just discussing ATM's. I quickly got on my knees right between his furry legs in one liquid motion. He stood up and pulled down his shorts. No underwear. I had to wonder if he hadn't seen this coming (so to speak). His dick was not massive, but it was chubby and curved severely upward toward the tip. How his wife never managed to never get infected was one of God's mysteries. I was careful not to touch him with my hands. I just opened my mouth and let him put the head of his dick past my lips. "Ahhhh! I never thought I'd ever feel my dick sucked again!" He stabbed that dagger of a dong farther in with each thrust. I don't know if he knew this was my first time. He said he wouldn't touch me, but he grabbed handfuls of my hair as he did his thing. "Yeah...suck that cock!" I imagined he had his eyes closed or was looking at the ceiling - or anything else besides the male blowing him. "OK! Stop! I'm gonna cum! STOP!" I did. I missed that penis as soon as it was out of my mouth. He was shooting his load now over my head. I turned my face up to catch what I could and saw he was looking straight down at me. He knew I wanted at least a taste and he aimed it for my nose. Drops and dribbles landed on my eyelids and lips. It was so much warmer than I expected. "Wow." The CD had ended at some point and I hadn't even noticed. I stood up and savored the flavor of Roy for a a second before finishing my glass of wine. There were a few pubes in my mouth. "Thanks, man." He pulled up his shorts. "YOU are thanking ME??" "Thanking you for your kind donation. Thanking you warmly." It was kind of awkward to just continue the evening like nothing happened so Roy decided he should call it a night. "I'll stop by tomorrow and do the dishes. Good night, Tim." As soon as he was gone, I lied flat on the floor and beat off. If this is how satisfying sex always was, I'm sorry I'd never tried it before. After the orgasm, I realized I'd forgotten to give him the ten dollars. I'd finish the rest of the wine left in the bottle and wait until he was probably asleep and then go slip a twenty under his door. Hell, I'd leave a fifty dollar bill if I had that. I turned on the TV and found some B movie that only a drinker could possibly find amusing. I fished a twenty out of a little stash of money I kept on hand for emergencies. The building was quiet for a Saturday night as I took the elevator down to the first floor where Roy lived in a little studio apartment. I'd briefly thought of leaving a note too, but maybe that wouldn't be wise since he might have all kinds of second thoughts about what we'd done. I sure wasn't. I slept so soundly that night and woke up fairly late with only the smallest of hangovers. I showered, dressed and then went to wash the dishes. The twenty had been returned through the crack in my door. A little post-it was attached. You don't have to pay for donations, R Roy knocked on my door around 2 that afternoon. My heart did a cartwheel. He was in nice casual clothes again and looked like a million bucks. How did I ever think he wasn't my type? "How you feeling today, amigo?" "Fine. Really fine. Good to see you again." "I'm ready to help you clean up." "It's all done. You left your corkscrew and I even washed that." He plopped down on my couch and removed his sandals again. "The game is on. You follow the Diamondbacks?" "Off and on. I still have those Coronas you left a while back. Want one?" "Sure. Why not?" By the fourth inning, I was sucking his dick again. It wasn't planned or expected by either of us. I even touched the back of his calves this time. I knew he wanted me to swallow his load this time but he just wouldn't do it. He pulled out again and baptized me with hot seed. I got a big glob in my eye which stung like fuck, but I didn't indicate my pain in an way. He just pulled his shorts on again and we finished watching the game as if nothing happened. We chatted like buddies and drank the beers. The routine remained the same on an almost daily basis. We'd hang out, I'd suck him and he'd shoot all over my face. I kept trying to hold him in my mouth as long as I could...and one day he came in my mouth, and we didn't ever discuss it. By the middle of Summer, I'd swallowed a gallon of his cum. He enentually let me hold hold his hairy ass as he thrust. It was perfect. He got to release his seed and I got to be on the receiving end. On July 4th, he brought over a box of wine. I knew they sold it like this, but had never tried it. It was a 'blush' and Roy assured me it was "better than you'd think". It wasn't bad. Not bad at all. We were watching "A League of Their Own" on TV and enjoying the wine and friendly talk like usual. "Isn't it always weird how late it gets dark this time of year? It makes the days seem so long." It wasn't night yet but we heard random fireworks outside. "After dark, the park across the street is supposed to have one of those big public firework displays." "Can we see it from here?" "No. Not from this room, but my bedroom faces the park." I didn't mean for that to be any sort of suggestive invitation, but it probably came out that way. "Cool. We can watch it there. It should be dark in an hour. More wine?" We'd brought the box out to the living room and were just refilling during commercial breaks. I didn't want to put another movie in when "League" had ended. I wanted to talk as dusk approached. I needed to talk but had no idea how to start. "I read an article in Newsweek about all these great new AIDS drugs coming out. Some of them can make the virus undetectable in your blood." "Yeah, and I bet I could afford exactly none of them." "Too bad you don't look more like me. You could use my I.D. and insurance card to get care." "Yeah. If you had HIV, you could get those pills and we could share them." It's funny how an idea can spark and spread like fire through dry grass. I was thinking about things I never thought I'd ever consider. It was almost dark. "Bring the wine and let's go watch the show." My bedroom was as neat and nice as the rest of the place. Roy made himself comfortable on my bed and propped up on the pillows as I opened the blinds. I turned off the lights to better see the fireworks. I knew these things never started on time, but I wanted to lie in bed with him in the lush darkness. He'd undressed completely as if he had been reading my mind. "You know I'm not gay, Tim. Right?" "Yes." "Still, I'd like to fuck you and give you my HIV. Would you be willing?" "Oh yes. I was going to suggest that if you didn't." "OK. I've fucked a man before...it's probably how I got the disease in the first place. But you have to be sure you want to make this sacrifice for me. We can get those new drugs if you test positive." "My plan exactly." I turned over on my stomach without thinking too much about how it probably wouldn't be too practical for each of us to take half-doses of a medicine - it might even be harmful. I'd just let him have all of it, and I'd bide my time. There...solved. I wanted him to fuck me so bad. That was the goal. He spit on my butt crack and rubbed the hard head up and down to get some on himself. He spit again and then again. He was jerking himself off. "I want to make this as quick as I can for you. I'm almost ready... OK. Let's do this." I had never once imagined that it would be such a hot, searing pain. I winced and sucked in air between my teeth. "You OK?" "I...yeah..don't go in any more just now. Let me...ow...let me get used to it for a second." "Deal. Wow...it feels so nice! Hot and tight. Damn! How about just a little more?" "Yeah." I figured it couldn't possibly get any worse. But it did somehow. I could feel the sensitive skin down there rip a little. No way. I needed to stop this now, but then...but the the searing turned into more of an ache. Tolerable. It didn't feel good, but I could survive this. He was all the way in when he let himself collapse on my back. It was like a heavy, hairy cushion covering me and I liked that part. He kept up a steady pace of pumping and grunting. "I'm about to let it out..I'm ready to...FUCK!" He was shooting that tainted payload deep into my ruined ass. It happened faster than I could think. He probably did that on purpose before I changed my mind. We stayed prone like that for a good twenty seconds while he caught his breath. "Thank you, Tim. You doing that for me means so much." I needed the bathroom right away for obvious reasons. I took care of things as best I could and returned to the bedroom where I saw the still-naked Roy wiping off his dick of with some tissues from my nightstand. "You OK? The fireworks just started." They certainly had. "Yeah. You can use the shower if you want, I'll get you a towel." "Maybe later. Let's watch the show." We both relaxed on the bed and made random comments about the display...as if nothing even remotely new had happened. I couldn't stop my overactive imagination from picturing what the virus was doing in my body now. Was it blasting away my immune system like dynamite? Or had the fuse just been lit? Was it like there were little vandals in my bloodstream, randomly breaking things in random organs? The fireworks ended about an hour later and Roy said he was too tired and comfortable to get dressed and leave and the promptly fell asleep. So our breeding sessions continued for a few more months. It felt like we were lovers except that we didn't kiss or show any physical affection when we were together. I was just a release for a friend who liked to shoot his seed in warm places. I would also his means to medical treatment. Was I as okay with that and that only? For how long? I kept putting off getting tested and Roy didn't push me to get it over with. I was waiting for an appointment with my regular doctor in early November when I always went to get a flu shot. As November 2 approached, Roy hit me with the news that his brother had gotten a really good job in San Diego with a landscaping business. "He said he'd get me hired and the pay is really good - and comes with health insurance!" "Wow. Congratulations. It's supposed to be very beautiful there." I don't think I said that very convincingly. "When are you leaving?" "The week of Thanksgiving. I need to sell all my shit and just go." That's it? No mention of me or the damage he'd done to me? No apology? "We can go celebrate tonight if you want to." "No. Just go. We're done here. Goodbye, Roy." He looked surprised and hurt, but I mean -- what the fuck? I didn't give him much of a chance to say anything, just showed him to the door and locked it after he left. It was over, but it never would anything anyway. Of course I tested positive and my very cool doctor assured me she'd see to it that I'd have a long life. I also started seeing a therapist in the same building. He and I are still sorting through all of this. One concrete obstacle we keep hitting is how I could feel mourning for a love I'd never technically had. He encouraged me to write about it. I just did.
  6. Thanks for the follow. Your name looks familiar...did you have a tumblr site for a time?

    1. jaybird
    2. Toon

      Toon

      That's it!! Thanks, man -- I've got some archives to go through.

    3. jackingymboy

      jackingymboy

      Hey man, Ya' that's my tumbler. It's gotten kinda dark n' twisted over the years. but I hope you guys can get off on it. thanks

       

  7. NOTE: I am revisiting and rewriting a tale I'd posted a while back that was removed because of it's violent/ death-oriented content. It was certainly not intentional, but it disturbed a number of members and I was reprimanded. It has always bugged me that I'd put so much work into that story only to fuck up the ending. I resubmit this revised version that will hopefully make amends for my previous bad judgement. THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION 1990 I'm Joey. I tried to go by 'Joe' as I got older, but I guess I looked too much like a 'Joey' to be shed of that name. Whatever. I was 22 back then and still pretty pissed that Dukakis had lost the election. I lived in cozy little apartment near the company I worked for. It was a medium-sized city with a decimated downtown. 'White Flight' had left our once thriving city streets empty. This was no big deal to me because I'd never seen the 'glory days' when beautiful restaurants, jazz clubs and department stores thrived. I'd only known that section as decayed. The city council was making an effort to revitalize downtown by trying to build pricey lofts and office space. I kept track of the firs and starts of these efforts in the morning paper. One story that caught mt eye was about a little park near the bus station that was reportedly the scene of all kinds of unseemly activity (drug dealing, gay stuff and plain old vagrancy. The whole park would have been dozed over if not for the fact that it was WW 1 memorial, with statues of random generals. The lost souls who ended up there were spared. For now. This was also the time period when I realized I'd always be gay. For the longest time I thought I could break it like a bad habit by just not thinking about men. Of course that didn't work. I gave up efforts to cure myself and just surrendered to porn. There was an adult book store on Pennsylvania Street where I bought magazines and video tapes. I really loved the older pre-condom stuff. I developed a preference for certain scenes and certain performers. I liked 'em big, brawny and mean. Dick size didn't even matter to me as much as the way it was used. Jon Vincent was my favorite. Man! He always fucked his bottoms with no tenderness and a lot of verbal abuse. I had a type, an ideal. Even though I had no experience with gay men or even sex of any kind. I basically beat off a lot. There was too many lofts and not enough tenants according to the paper. Landlords were panicked and cutting rent across the board. Maybe I'd check a few of them out on the first weekend of April. The streets down there were set up in a very schizophrenic way. Some of them would change from two-way to one-way without much warning. They'd curve and change names as well. So I was lost. I never found the Bradford Building, but I did find the legendary park that had made the news so often. I decided it wouldn't hurt to just drive through it, It was a mild, sunny day and nobody would try to carjack my old clunker. It was nice and better maintained than you'd imagine. Lots of parked cars were everywhere. Most of them were empty, but a few of them contained a solitary driver. I saw a few young guys were wandering around like tourists, but others were lurking among the trees and bushes. I could pretty much guess the kind of stuff going on there. I hadn't arrived at a point where I could even imagine doing anything like that. I couldn't conquer my fears any more than I could my sexuality. Oh well. On the way home, I saw a little bar with a lavender neon triangle in the window. It was called 'Soaks' or 'Soakies' or something like that. I knew there were gay bars in the city but never driven by one before. OK. Here was one of them. I doubt I'd ever be able to step foot in the place, but who knows? Well, I knew by 9 o'clock that night. I'd go. It would be adventure for the year.There was very little chance I'd find my ideal there or anywhere, but this needed to be done. It was only 8 PM on a Saturday night, but it felt like I'd been getting myself ready for days already. Some aunt had given me a bottle of wine for graduation last year and I decided it was time to open it. Yuck! I would never be one of those 'wine people'. I drained about half of it before I felt I could leave the apartment. Maybe the whole bottle was needed because I still thought I might chicken out. It was like the time I took a public speaking class and just had to force myself to stand in front of my high school peers and act like it was the normal thing in the world. I did it back then so I could do it now. It was called "Soaks" and it was the only open business on the whole block. The whole front of the place was plate glass which indicated it had been some kind of retail shop in the old days. But it looked friendly and safe...but a little filthy. OK. At least was plenty of close parking on the street and coins in the meter weren't required after 6. I sat and waited in the car for a good fifteen seconds. The key was to just go in and pretend I'd been here a million times before. The first thing I noticed when I entered was the bartender. He was a very tall guy in his late 30's/early 40's. He had some blondish-gray stubble and a severely receding hairline. His arms were very long. Marfan Syndrome. Abraham Lincoln had it - a genetic thing I remembered from biology class. The second thing I noticed was the sparse crowd. The guys sitting at the bar were in their 60's and 70's. The dudes in the back were all young, tattooed and looked fresh out of prison. Mr. Marfan stopped me before I got five steps inside. "You got I.D.?" "Sure do." My face showed that I wasn't the least bit pissed off. I just fished it out of my wallet and handed it to him. "Oh. You're just barely legal -- don't blame me. It seems like a hundred years since I was asked for I.D." "No big deal." I tried not to study him like he was a slide being shown in anatomy class. "First time here?" I took a seat at the bar where there were empty stools on either side of me. I was still easing into this. "New visitors get a free beer." "Cool." He handed me a can of Miller Lite. A can. I assumed all bars served beer in bottles but I guess not. "Let me know when you need another. I own the place so you don't gotta tip." I almost said 'cool' again but caught myself in time. "Do you have a pinball machine here?" "Yeah, but it's out of order. Sorry. There's one of them touch-screen games right over there at the bar." I looked and saw what he was talking about, but there was a really drunk - almost comatose- old guy next to it. No. Not now. "Not much of a crowd for Saturday night." I sucked (and still suck) at small talk. "Take a good look because this is as crowded as it gets. I'm James by the way." He offered up his crazy long hand to shake. My own hand felt like a child's as I shook it. "I'm Joey. Or Joe. Whatever's easiest to remember." "Oh you'll be easy to remember. You just move into one of the lofts across the street?" "No. I'm thinking about lofts, but I'm still in midtown right now." "Can I ask why you're even in this place?" "I saw it earlier and thought I'd check it out." He noticed that I kept glancing over at the game. "You can play that. Don't mind Drucker. He's harmless. Need some quarters?" "Nope. I'm good for now." Years of dorm and apartment living had made me hoard quarters like they were made of gold. I sauntered over to the empty seat in front of the machine as if it was routine. I felt James looking at me. Sure enough, the nodding drunk guy next to me didn't even notice my presence. He smelled like my grandpa. Scotch. The crowd started to thin even more. I was waiting for somebody to approach me, but none of the did. My Jon Vincent was at some other bar tonight. That was okay. I was kicking ass at the trivia games. My initials spelled out 'J.A.T.' and I had the highest score in every category except sports. James came by and handed me another beer. "Tonight is a '2 for 1' special." It was a still in a can. but it was cold. Right after I ran out of quarters and was trying to figure out if I should leave or not, Drucker fell backwards and landed on the floor with a thud. "SHIT! James! Call an ambulance!" He looked a little annoyed. "No no. This happens every night. I call him a cab and charge it to his tab." I wasn't so sure. He was on the floor. I knelt down and tried talking to him. "Can you open your eyes? Can you speak? Just breathe, OK?" His eyes fluttered open. "It's Charlie Sheen! I can't believe it!" Uh. "No. Are you able to stand?" "I'll stand up if you kiss me, Charlie." No way was my first kiss going to be with a drunk, toothless old fart. And then he was out cold again. James walked from behind the bar in no great hurry. "Can you help me lift him up and get him out to the sidewalk?" No. Yes. It's not anything I'd ever counted on doing, but there was really no way I could say 'no' at this point. It wasn't so difficult to lift him with James' help but getting him dragged to the door was a bit more of a challenge. By the time we got him out to the street, the cab was already there. We poured him into the backseat and stood there for a few seconds before returning to the bar. "This happens every night?" "Pretty much. Sometimes I convince him to toddle home before he gets to that state." The place was empty now and it was barely even 11. "Glad I could help." "Well you earned a free shot, Joey. What would you like?" "Whatever. I'm not picky." Truth was I didn't know anything about hard liquor. I knew it came in brown or clear. "Here. Top shelf whiskey. I might as well use it all before the city shuts me down for good. That'll be fine with me because I own the whole building. I'll make enough to retire and go live on a beach somewhere." That sounded nice. "Hey -- want to hear some music?" "Sure." The shot was harsh but it went down easy enough. I think I actually even liked it. "I've got a bunch of mix tapes from the 80's. That's probably something you'd appreciate." Oh, it was. The bar may have been in sorry shape, but the stereo/speaker system was very decent. The opening sounds of 'Ghost Busters' came spilling out from the walls. Nice. I asked for another beer and insisted on paying for it this time. He lowered the volume a bit and emerged from behind the bar to come join me. He brought my beer and a whole bottle of that expensive whiskey. OK. This night had been full of the unexpected. James sat his lanky frame next to me. "I need to get off my feet for a little. We'll sit here in the VIP section. You mind?" "Of course not." "So is this really the first gay bar you've ever been in?" Did I tell me him that or did he just know? "Yeah. My diary was getting pretty boring, so I thought I'd add a little something new to it." He chuckled and poured us two more shots. "Most cute young guys like you usually go to dance clubs or the gym to meet men." "I always imagine places like that as being full of people who know how to be there already. They have their own secret handshakes and inside jokes. I...I don't feel welcome." "You think too much, Joey. Have another shot." James spun his stool around to face me and, when I didn't do the same, he turned me around too. I noticed how roughed up his jeans were. He'd worn two holes right over his bony kneecaps. There were some leg hairs visible and it was incredibly sexy somehow. Most of my porn favorites were shaved and waxed within an inch of their lives. The whiskey was starting to loosen my tongue and so I spoke about my particular tastes when it came to men and sex. I just came right out and admitted that I liked aggressive, verbal tops who were verbal. It's like I was reading a diary entry out loud. James nodded. "So what do you do?" "I just started at Plexico -- in the I.T. department." "No. What do you do when your dick gets hard? Just stay at home and beat off?" Id never felt so pathetic. I helped myself to another shot. "Well...I guess so.' "I'm sorry -- that was harsh. You're probably smart to go that route for now." I looked in his dark hazel/brown eyes. He was kind. I couldn't help but reach down and touch his exposed knees. Warm skin and bone. "Rapture" by Blondie played next. I was instantly a 13 year old again. Face to face, dance cheek to cheek/ One to one/ man to man/ Toe to toe/ Don't move too slow... Remember being that age? When music said so much and spoke to you in code. James returned my touch with his own. He stroked my hair with his skinny fingers. And then we were kissing. Warm, wet, whiskey-flavored lips and a touch or two of our tongues. Wow. Dear Diary.... "One more shot, Joey. After that, I'll have to call you a cab. Two more, and you'll have to come upstairs and spend the night." "Upstairs?" "My apartment is on the second floor. It's kind of a mess, but I wasn't expecting Charlie Sheen to show up tonight." "Oh, you heard that? I've never been compared to an actor before. Poor Drucker." "He's lived quite a life." James poured me another shot. And then another one. I wondered how long it would take for my stomach to start protesting. He was just taking sips from the bottle now. "Will you please kiss me again?" He obliged and it was a little more intense this time. The Bangles' 'Eternal Flame' began. Timing. I made a decision right then to just let James take over and direct the rest of the night. "For future reference - you don't have to ask. One more shot and I'll lock up and we can go upstairs." I downed it as he secured the door and register, set the alarm and tossed our shot glasses into a sink behind the bar. He shut off some of the lights and then led me to a door at the back which he unlocked. "Careful. These stairs are a little dangerous." He was for sure right about that. It was a steep climb and the steps were narrow. I couldn't imagine a guy with such long feet going up and down these every day. At the top of the stairs was a dimly lit hallway. It was very dark and retro...like a scene from some David Lynch movie. The inside of his apartment was nice, if a little unorganized. "Have a seat. Can you a beer or a Coke or something? Oh wait, I drank the last Coke this morning." "Beer's fine." He brought two cold bottles over to the couch and sat down next to me. Maybe it was my imagination or the booze, but I swear I could feel heat coming off of his body. Possibly he was running a fever. He put a long arm around me. "Where we we?" Then we were kissing again and this time it felt like he was consuming my whole face. We were both breathing deeply. The smell of lust combined with alcohol fumes. His tongue darted into my right ear which made me rock hard. I'd know from that point on that my ears were a weakness that any man could take advantage of. "I can give you what you've been looking for. Almost. I can't fuck you without a condom. I've got AIDS. I'd love to give you everything else, though." "Yes." I imagined the ways I could convince him to change his mind about the rubber. He stood up and started to strip with his back turned to me. He was so skinny, but also had some muscle definition in his legs. His butt looked a little odd -- like all the fat had been sucked out of it, leaving all the skin to just hang. He turned around and I saw his boner jutting straight out. It was a nice length, but kind of skinny... like the rest of him. "Take off your clothes, dumb faggot!" He noticed my mixed reaction. "You wanted verbal abuse, right? Or was that just a bluff?" I got out of my clothes in record time. "Good boy. Now get on the floor and crawl over to me. Now!" I did as told. It was as erotic as I could have ever imagined. "Stay! Now suck on this dick like your life depended on it...because it just might." He had a pocketknife in his left hand that I hadn't noticed before. Shit! He was good at this! His pointy cock was sizzling hot against my lips. I worked my tongue over the purple head and savored the subtle flavors and textures. Then he held the blade against the top of my ear. "If I feel any teeth, I'll cut your goddamn ear off. Think I'm kidding?" I felt the sharp blade press down a little. I don't think he broke the skin, but this was maybe going a little too far. Still, I loved having that hot boner in my mouth and performed what I thought was an excellent blowjob despite the fact that it was my first time. James must have liked what I was doing because he folded up the knife and let it drop to the floor. "Yeah. You got an AIDS dick your mouth, stupid fag. I can feel my oily, filthy precum leaking down your goddamn throat. Like that? Of course you do -- you're a fuckin' perv. " I thought I'd shoot my own load right there and then. "Sit there and savor the taste of HIV. I'll be right back. DON'T MOVE." I didn't. He came back with a bottle of baby oil and a wrapped condom. I was running out of time to talk him out of being 'safe'. "You're lucky, you dumb fuck. This is my last one. You better hope it doesn't break or I'll be flooding your guts with disease. Get on your hands and knees like a dog. Yeah. Like that. Good boy. Look at the floor and don't move." I heard him unwrap the condom and squirt some of the oil on himself. In seconds, he was working those greasy fingers up into my rectum. It was rough and so unromantic -- which was fine with me. I would be experienced after tonight, braver. "Stupid, tight virgin ass. You better pray this rubber is strong. It's going to take some work...and you aren't even worth it. Dumb fag." It started to happen. The solid, swollen head of his sheathed penis was suddenly inside of me. The fantasy shattered into pieces for me. Too much pain. What we'd already done was enough. "NO! Stop!" "Nobody said you could speak, asshole. Hold on. It feels nice in there....yeah!!!" He worked deeper inside of me...and it didn't stop hurting until it suddenly did. He kept up the abusive language..and that's probably what made me loosen up more. "There you go, boy. There's just a layer of latex...thinner than a human hair keeping you protected from millions of AIDS babies. Think about that, faggot." I did, but what I was thinking is that I wish he really were going to breed me good and proper. "Your ride is almost over...I'm gonna ....FUCK!" He stopped and pulled out of me. "Goddamn rubber broke." His voice and tone went back to normal. "Sorry, Joey. We can beat off together if you want. Shit. The thing was probably too old." "No. Go back in. You can pull out when you need to shoot." "That won't work. I can't. Won't." I stayed put and pushed my ass toward him a little. It was subtle, but my intentions should have been crystal clear. They were. "OK. But just for a few seconds.. We can't play around with....Ahhhh!" He had pushed back inside. The nerve endings on his dick must have been dancing because he stayed longer than a few seconds...and went back all the way to down his nuts. He resumed the pace but not the hot talk. I knew and James probably knew I knew what was about to happen. "NO! I ...." It happened. He hadn't really made much of an effort to pull out, and I guess that made him upset - with both of us. He sat down on the floor next to me and started sobbing. "No. I'm so sorry. So SO sorry. I can't take it back." We held each other for several minutes. "Are you mad at me, Joey?" His face was streaked with tears. "Not at all. I'm the one to blame...I wanted it." "I know, but.... I just ruined your life." "That's not certain. It's all up to nature now." He stopped crying and looked at me in the most tender way. "Will you stay the night with me?" I did just that. I went back to Soaks almost every night. I'd built up some upper torso muscles from lifting Drucker off the floor regularly. I might have even started a little bit of a drinking problem. Sometimes James and I had sex and sometimes he just didn't feel well enough. One night he came right out and told me not to come back again. "The city finally bought me out. Bad timing, though. I'm headed into a hospice on Sunday. It's the end, Joey. I don't want you see me like that. Please don't forget me." "Never." And that was the last time I saw him. I'd had all my fantasies fulfilled - which can be very satisfying unless you start developing even darker desires. END
  8. 1980 It's funny and a little depressing to think back at the time when I was so sure I wanted to be a newspaper reporter. I guess I could blame an old TV show called "Lou Grant". I was a little gay teen who had a confusing crush on a news reporter named "Rossi". I didn't know I wanted to go to bed with him back then, I just knew I wanted to sit behind a typewriter and compose copy about late-breaking stories. It's exactly what I wanted to do. Troy wanted to be a sports broadcaster, Shane wanted to be an actor and Karletta was going to have her own beauty salon. We were all 14 and the future seemed so close yet so infuriatingly far away. 1986 I never thought about any other line of work. Journalism. That was decided and I was in college now. The future kept coming faster and faster. I took all the classes I was supposed to. It would be at least two years before I could apply to work on the campus newspaper, but I imagined it constantly. Our school was pretty big and the campus paper had gained some prestige. I read it all -- except for the sports stuff or anything about frats and sororities. There was a lot of controversy about using university funds to supply us with free condoms. I knew about AIDS, and I knew it was mostly a gay sex disease that had no cure. I read it all with a detached interest. I knew I was gay, but had no idea if I'd ever do the butt sex stuff. Not anytime soon. I lived close to my parents and usually visited a few times a month. I did laundry and ate as much of Mom's home-cooking as I could. She always sent me home with food, little gifts and all their old magazines. My favorite was "Smithsonian". There was one issue with a feature about an AIDS activist in London. His name was Ian Furmedge and he was on the European forefront of raising funds for cures and treatments. He had the disease. One whole page was a black and white photograph of him where he was sitting at an antique wood table in his pajamas. He was thin, had a dark beard and his feet were bare. There was a window behind him. The shadows only complimented his thin, handsome face. I read that article so many times, always looking back at the photo. I needed to write him, but how? The only phone number I had was for the subscription department. They'd have no idea. I ended up just addressing a short note to him in care of the Smithsonian's address. It basically just said that I admired his work and also his photo. I thanked him for his efforts. College was hard - mainly because nobody made you do anything. If you failed, too bad. Nobody was there to keep you on the straight and narrow. I was not the most disciplined person back then. I just plugged along. I'd bought a nice frame for Ian's photograph and kept it on my desk so I could look at it all the time. My stoner roommate noticed it once and asked me who it was. "Who's that?" "My dad." He probably wasn't old enough to be my dad, but I was not an expert liar back then. "Really? You don't look anything like him. Is he sick?" "No. Just skinny." "Big feet. Huh. He just doesn't look like a dad." He wandered away in his own private haze. I'm pretty sure I had just failed my German 101 test. I hated that class, but journalism majors had to take eight credit hours of a foreign language. I wanted to just cry at how badly I was doing in that class. Back at the dorm, I checked to see if I had any mail. The slot was usually empty excepts for some little greeting card from Mom or credit card applications for my roommate. Any company that offered that moron credit deserved to go bankrupt. But today I got an actual envelope with an actual handwritten letter in it. It was from overseas! From Ian! Holy Shit! My heart raced. I was alone in the elevator with the prize in my hand. I sniffed the envelope for some reason. It just smelled like mail. Dear Bradley, Cheers from Eaton! Thanks so much for your very nice note. It's the only piece of fan mail I've ever gotten! I wish I liked that story as much as you did. It seemed a bit scattered to me. I'm pleased you enjoyed the photograph of me. I never like how I look on camera. Might I see a picture of you? Are you liking University? Is it stressful? I was born in Argentina and actually lived in the states for some years. New Mexico. I've never been to Denver. Is it quite beautiful there? I picture mountains and snow when I hear "Colorado". I'd very much like to visit there. There's a "World Health" conference in Boulder, CO in the Summer. I'm obliged to attend. Perhaps I'll see you there??? My health is improving at this time, and thank you for asking. I'm taking some new herbal pills from China. It might be all bollocks, but I feel much invigorated. It's good timing because I'm always busy. Are you active in campus AIDS causes? I wish to inspire you to do so if you aren't already engaged in that. It takes some courage, but it's so critical. Please do post me again. I want to know more about you. I picture you at the library, reading and studying. Always, Ian I don't think I took a single breath as I read it all. I hadn't even taken the backpack off my shoulder. I'd opened the envelope so carefully that the seal was intact. His tongue had licked it and I kissed every inch. Stupid and out of character for me. I supposed I was a teen-aged girl now. My Dearst Bradley, So surprised to get such a fast reply! Firstly, I loved the photo you included! So dashing...and so young. You're wearing a coat and tie -- was this a special occasion of some kind? I'm guessing you are 19 or 20. Yes? I'm 41. I probably look older nowadays but no gray hair as of yet. There is wisdom in that face of yours...as well as a bit of trouble. Pardon my query, but have you suffered a loss? Mate, we all wear our pain on a daily basis. Feel free to tell me anything as I am the most excellent listener/reader. Speaking of which -- would you ever imagine calling me? I know it is probably a bit dear to call such a distance, but it can wait a bit. I'm six hours ahead of you...which makes me a bit of a time-traveler (ha). I can tell you that future is fine and looking better each day. To answer your questions: 1. My favorite movie is 'The Maltese Falcon" 2. I listen to mostly classical music, but I do enjoy some pop songs 3. I'm not in a relationship right now. I just don't have the time at present. How about you? Are you with someone? He or she is very blessed indeed. I urge you again to contribute to your university's AIDS programs. Time is almost as valuable as money. It must be difficult to find spare time with your studies. Just try and accept that you are challenged by foreign language. Don't try to be the class prize in German class. Just do enough to pass (I predict you'll get a 'B' or better). Try absorbing the language willingly...without frustration or resentment. Anger and fear are harmful. More photos of me? Surely. I can send the outtakes from The Smithsonian shoot. Or would you something a bit more personal? I am not afraid to share. I'm thinking of you. Luv. I wonder what you are doing and wearing whenever I get a spare moment (not often enough!!) A kiss, Ian That night I called the campus hotline and asked about volunteer programs. The nice girl told me there were only millions of them. "What about 'AIDS prevention'? Or fundraising?" "Oh. Um... lots. Do you want something 'gay specific' or does that matter?" "Gay." I swallowed audibly. She didn't seem the least bit rattled. "Try calling GLSOC. They will help direct you to where the most resources are needed. Got a pen? Here's the number: --- -----. If you're on campus, you only have to dial the last four numbers." "Thank you." "No problem. Anything else?" "No. Good night." My Bradley, Such an uplifting letter from you! The photos stiffened me up nicely -- for a whole day!! I take it you took those in a mirror? Yes? I have the lot of them on my nightstand. You didn't show your willy, but I could picture it well enough from the outline in your skivvies. Quite nice! I am including some of my own. I'm a bit more furry than you. Hope you like them anyway. I know a bloke who works as a photographer. He will print any kind of XXX request you have. I am not pretty, but also not modest. I am here for you to see! I'm happy you went and signed-up with a program. It can make you feel vulnerable to hand out condoms and literature eight there in the open. You're right -- people will assume things about you. Swallow that and stuff it way down. It is worth the effort! We can make a difference, mate. I'm also pleased that you got an 'A' on your German vocabulary test. Congratulations, old bean! I knew you could do it, So funny how I once tried to inspire you and then you've gone and inspired me. Good luck on your final exams. Take care of yourself and get plenty of rest. Love, Ian I looked at each photo ten times. He was mostly in some stage of undress, but never completely nude. He was indeed a hairy man, which I guess I'd always kinda figured. A majority of them were taken somewhere tropical - a resort I'd guess. He wasn't quite so thin whenever these shots were taken. I wondered how I'd ever not think of these images all day, every day. In addition to my preparation for finals, I was also handing out condoms and manning the phone at the Help Line. German was going better after I'd taken Ian's advice. I stopped fighting this ugly language and just let it soak in. My trouble now was getting through a book called "Out of Africa". It was just so dry and so boring. Our final was going to be a surprise question which we would have two hours to complete. Themes, symbolism, etc. were all on the table. I'd read it twice and hope for the best. Sweet Man, Happy Christmas, Love! I hope you enjoy the season with your family. It must be a relief to be done with exams. I barely remember 'Out of Africa', but you were quite correct to zero in the underlying themes of mourning and purity. I gather you've got a brain in that skull of yours. Ha. I always knew that. Thank you for all the nice words about my photographs. You made me blush a deep scarlet!! To answer a few of your queries: 1. I am still doing well. There is a new pill I've been given that has a kick to it. We shall see. 2. Yes, I got a flu shot. Because of my condition, I am usually first in line for the vaccine. 3. The photos were taken in Greece a few years ago. 4. I wear a UK size 14 shoe. I believe that would be a 15 in the US. 5. I spend Christmas with my mum. She's a real plum and you'd like her. Alrighty then. I need to hear your voice so badly. Will you call ring me? Remember the time difference and call during your early afternoon. Or later. Or any hour. I'll leave you my home number and also my mum's in case you want to call during Christmas. I would love that so much. I love you, mate!, Ian It was nice to have time off from school. I'd been reading, studying and taking tests for so long. Would it ever end? My mom and dad treated me like a prince while I was home. I'd made the dean's list which surprised all of us. I'd been a very average student in high school. I'd missed sleeping in my old room..with our giant gray cat sleeping on my chest as I read old comic books late into the night. I ate and ate some more during my visit. One of the guys on my AIDS crisis team was spreading the message that gaining weight was important for being healthy. "Get Fat, Stay Alive" was his slogan. I wasn't sure that was the solution, but it wouldn't hurt to look beefy and ruddy while the plague invaded full force that year. "I wish you'd eaten like this when you were a kid," Mom noted. You need some extra pounds. Wish I could donate some of mine." The day before Christmas Eve, I told them I was doing volunteer work and that it involved global health and population control. My dad approved because it would look good to potential employers. Mom was just happy that I was coming out of my shell and being altruistic. Lying was become easier now. "I may get a grant to do outreach in London." "Oh my! Your passport is still in my dresser drawer. Take it with you when you go back next month. It's all up to date." "I may need to call them while I'm here. Can I do it from here?" "Call overseas? Well...." She looked at my dad. "Let's let Brad look in his stocking now." Inside the stocking (which smelled like our attic) was candy, a new Weird Al cassette tape, two twenty dollar bills and three MCI calling cards. So perfect! I couldn't wait to use them! "We switched to MCI a few months ago," Dad informed me. "It's going to kick AT&T's ass eventually which is why I bought some of their stock. You gotta get in early on emerging technology. "Thank you both so much! I am without proper words right now." I'd unknowingly started talking like Ian. "I need to rest now. I'll let you two men stay up and talk...but not too late. We have a big day tomorrow." Mom toddled off to bed while Dad and I sat at the kitchen table. He and I had been through some rough patches when I was a teen. I once went a month without saying a single word to him. "How about we have some eggnog, Son?" I nodded as he fetched two glasses and a bottle of Jack Daniels. No nog. Having a real adult drink with my father?...sure. "You think the Broncos will do anything in the play-offs? I am always a little pessimistic." We had that in common. "I don't know. Dad? I'm sorry I was such a shit when I was in high school." "That's all in the past. You make me proud, always have. It was my fault too. How's your eggnog?" It was just plain whiskey but I was game. It burned my throat and landed like a bomb in my stomach. OK. I guess this what adult men did. "Is it still snowing?" "I guess. I hope it keeps going -- so we don't have to go to midnight mass tomorrow night. I suppose you still don't believe in God? Your mother and I accept that. We will always love you -- no matter what." I had a feeling he'd been nogging already. "I've always known that, Dad." We had a few more drinks before he scooted me off to bed. I slept like a rock. Morning came fast. I smelled breakfast wafting up the stairs. I opened my eyes and saw that snow was still falling outside my window. Nice. Mom knocked on my door and then came right in. "Wake up, Sweetness! The mail came already and there's a Christmas card for you. It's from England! Season's greetings! I managed to find your home address at the library. They have phone books from all over the world. I hope it's okay to mail you there. I am just missing you now and always. I am finishing up some end-of the-year things before heading to Mum's. Do let your mother take plenty of pictures of you...and send me a few. I anticipate a call from you soon. Love, Ian. I was ecstatic. If the weather let up a bit, I'd have the house to myself tonight when everyone went to mass. I was going to call. I was. The day went by uneventfully. My sister was snowed in at the Boston airport and couldn't make it home. I was guiltily happy about that. She was five years older than me and had always been a bitch. I wouldn't miss her. Ever. Mom made a quick run to the grocery store while my dad and I sat in the living room and had more whiskey. "Can I ask you something, Brad?" "Is it what I think you're going to ask?" "Probably. I guess I don't have to bother with the question now, do I? Let's have another snort." "I'm gay and I've been that way since I could form thoughts. I'm not sexually active." "I don't care if you have sex, Son. Your mother and I were fucking before either of us were out of high school...just be careful. Was that card you got from someone special?" "He's very special, but he and I have never met. He..." I ran out of words. Ian. Mom came home with last-minute stuff from the grocery store. "It smells like a bar in here. What have my two boys been up to?" She grinned. Nobody is in a bad mood on Christmas Eve. "Look at the time! We're not having turkey this year. I'm broiling t-bones instead. The roads aren't bad at all -- I've driven in much worse." "So I guess we're going to Mass then? I hope they don't do a live nativity again." "Oh just go watch a sports game on TV while I get dinner going. Take your booze with you." There was some bowl game on. I hadn't paid attention to any sports except for The World Series. I was always studying, volunteering or thinking of Ian. Or else writing him. Dad and I had never bonded over a game on TV. "Oh hell...who cares about The Pringles Bowl or whatever this is? It's all about TV money." The smells of cooking drifted into the living room. Dad and had more sips of whiskey. "We should watch a Christmas movie. You think? I'll find one somewhere." He landed on some made-for-TV movie with a very holiday feel. We ate and it was nice. I had a nice buzz going so I didn't touch the glass of wine Mom had poured. They left for Mass around 10 PM and I went to my room and listened to the Weird Al tape. I had outgrown him, but what the hell...all my good music was back at school. I read a "Reader's Digest" I'd found in the bathroom. Dad usually talked my mom into going somewhere for a drink after the service, and I knew I'd be asleep by the time they got home. I had a dream about swimming in the ocean where all the sea creatures were rising up to the surface and speaking to me with English accents. I don't remember what they said. I snapped awake at 4:10 AM. I'd left the lamp on. I was so clearly awake. Ian and I were both awake on Christmas day. I needed to call him. BADLY. Deep breath. I fished out one of the MCI cards, Ian's phone number, and a photocopy of Ian's photo. "Hello?," a woman answered. "Good morning. May I please speak with Ian? Is he awake?" "I should say so! We've had breakfast already and opened gifts. Are you the American lad he talked about?" "I'm Bradley." "Yes! I was almost ready to say 'Bobby'. I'm a loon." "Merry Christmas, Mrs. Furmedge." "Hush that. I'm Dee. Oh...here he comes. It was nice speaking with you." "Yes? Is this Bradley?" "Merry Christmas, Ian. Thank you for the card." "I'm hardly believing this! You called! You sound exactly as I thought you might. How do I sound?" "Perfect." He laughed, coughed. "It must be quite early there." "Yes. My parents are still sleeping. Ian? It is so good to talk to you, but I'm suddenly at a loss of things to say." "Me too. Let's take about a twenty minute break and think of things to ask each other. Can I ring you back without waking the whole house?" "Yes. I have my own phone in my room. The number is --- --- -----." "Lovely. I will talk to you in a bit." I crept out of my room and went downstairs. The whiskey bottle was still there, next to the remote. That's exactly the kind of inspiration I needed. I took it to my room and sat at my desk.I dug out an old notebook and some pens. Even after a few shots, I couldn't come up with too much. I turned my radio on , hoping to find something besides Christmas music. 105 Hit Radio was doing top 40 business as usual. It didn't help too much. The phone rang. "Hello? Ian?" "I've not much luck, mate. We don't have to put so much pressure on this conversation. I've been meaning to ask you one thing for a while now...how long have you lived with HIV?" OH SHIT! He'd assumed this whole time that we shared the same virus! I needed to think fast. "A little less than a year." "Sorry, Luv. Still in shock, are we? Well -- you're handling it in a very healthy way. Activism is a form of therapy...at least for me it is." "Yes. Exactly." "I've some news that might cheer you up. Remember how I told you I had a photographer friend? He snapped a whole roll of nude pictures of me. I thought they looked quite artful. They're waiting for you back at your university address. I don't even know if it's legal to send such materials overseas, but it's done. I also sent you some literature about this Summer's conference in Boulder. It could be our chance to meet. Think you can come?" "I've already looked into it and checked with my supervisor at Outreach. She's going to fund it. She might go with me, but she's so cool. She's like Cyndi Laupner if she gained about 70 pounds." "You been having some drinks, Bradley?" "Yeah. A few. It's the holidays. Why?" "I can hear grain alcohol in your voice. It's not the best thing for your immune system, but it's allowed from time to time. One more thing... Can we arrange to stay in the same hotel? I'd like to make love to you." I finished a few more quick gulps from the bottle. "I...I think I'd like that so much. I've had a crush on you since I read the magazine article." "I hope it lasts until June." "I guarantee it will." "I should let you go to sleep, Bradley. Have a very Merry Christmas. I love you." CLICK I wondered how in the hell I was supposed to sleep now. I found an old paperback on my bookshelf that I opened and started to reread. "Love"? I'd just told a huge fib to a man who claimed to love me. I was on the spot. If he knew I was HIV-, there'd be no sex. I could not let that chance get away. I dozed off for what seemed like a minute, but daylight had crept into my room when I opened my eyes. Mom just burst into my room without knocking (some things haven't changed) and demanded I get up. "Come see what Santa brought you!" I would never be an adult in her eyes. Not ever. After gifts were opened and a big brunch eaten, we all wiped our brows and felt the relief mixed with melancholy that comes when Christmas is finally over. We lounged around the TV and watched one of those sleepy old movies from the 40's. More fake snow, sappy dialog and at least two covered bridges. Where'd all those structures go? "Supposed to be nice weather this week, but a big Winter storm is moving in on New Year's Day. When do you have to get back?" Dad had a fresh bottle of Wild Turkey that' he'd just opened. "I'm supposed to man a counseling hot line on New Year's Eve. Not many volunteers on campus until January 9th." "You counsel people? You're qualified?" "Yep. I took 20 hours of training, but mainly callers just need somebody to talk to." "Maybe I'll call it sometime." "You can talk now, Pops. Mom went up to take a nap." "Nah. Well... No. I'm fine." I was relieved he didn't start spilling out tearful confessions. We had a few drinks, but I insisted on mixing the alcohol with Pepsi. I was one of the few guys in my dorm who didn't drink or party with any other substance. My mom's father was a major alcoholic and it made me wary of my genetics. I'd just drink with Dad while I was home. I was usually too busy for numbness. The weather forecast did indeed look grim for January 1st. Record cold, record snow, high winds. I left on the 30th because I was eager to get back to the dorm and see if Ian's photos had arrived yet. It's not like I didn't visit home every other week. Mom loaded me up with brownies and other snacks. It was a short drive, but I gave Weird Al's tape another chance. Nope. I'm sure my roommate would appreciate it more than I did. The dorm was desolate and quiet as a tomb. The chubby girl at the front desk welcomed me when I approached to retrieve my mail. She had a Santa hat on that was meant to be whimsical, but mainly just looked retarded. There were two letters from Ian as well as a large manila envelope that I knew was full of photos. I'd save that one for last. Dear Bradley: I guess this will arrive after you've already left for vacation. I just wished to write you since I'm thinking so much about you, us. Am I moving too fast? I feel so good these days and it's all thanks to you. I hope we will talk on the telephone soon. I have a need to be intimate with you. Do you feel the same? I'm not sure how long of a life I'll have, but I intend to do as much as I can with the time left. I bet your finals went well. I'm sure they did. Love, Ian The second piece of mail was a greeting card. The cover was a goofy illustration of a teddy bear with a a heart-shaped patch on his stomach. It looked like something my mom would send. Cheers! I know this is a bit silly, but the little plush toy looks exactly how you make me feel -- warm, happy and a bit chubby. I've gained some weight back since Fall, and can wear my old jeans again without fear of them falling down. My doctor will be pleased. Thank you! I love you! Ian OK. Time to see the photos. Dear God!! He was a tall, furry dream come true. So many nude poses with his big, fat dick in various stages of hardness. Every single thing about him was perfect. I looked at each of them ten or eleven times before putting them back in the envelope and putting them under my bed. It was too late to call Ian now because I knew he'd be asleep. I called the GLSOC office just to see if anyone was there. Dan was. "Hi. It's Brad. I'm back. Need some help?" "Yeah, Bring me something from Arby's -- I'll pay you back. You can come keep me company until Shawna gets here." I had nothing else to do. So I went and took him food. Dan was a good guy, but a tad too intense at times...and so political. Conversations with him could wear me out. I stayed and listened to his chatter for awhile before finally leaving. My roommate came back a few says later and then classes were soon underway. It was work as usual, but this time I was more disciplined, more focused. Time flew by. Shawna had made all the arrangements for the conference. "Dan doesn't want to go, so you'll have a room to yourself. We both will. I'll print out an itinerary for you soon. I assume Ian already has arrangements since he's one of the speakers." She watched me carefully. "You fancy him, don't you?" "I admire him, Shawna. He inspired me to join the cause." "Whatever you say, Brad. Just remember what we're trying to do here." It was an insanely beautiful Spring...not that I had a whole lot of time to appreciate it. Finals were looming and I was more than prepared. I called Ian a few more times and told him how much I was looking forward to meeting him in person. It was often early in the morning when I reached him, and he usually made the comment he still had his 'A.M. stiffy' and would I mind if he whacked off while we chatted. I never minded but explained my living situation and how the roommate could barge in at any time. "Just talk to me...." I talked about how beautiful his dick was and much I wanted to feel it and taste it. It never took him long to grunt and finish. "My loads are huge these days. Perhaps there's more to Eastern medicine than I thought." "I can't to see that in person. Did you get a copy of my itinerary?" "I did. Thank you. Can you fetch me from the airport?" "Of course! There's no sense in you renting a car since it's so close to the hotel." "Thanks, mate. I can use that part of the budget to take us out for a nice dinner." I couldn't wait for June 10th to get here...and then it was here! Shawna and I took separate cars since I was going to the airport first. "I'm in room 762. Come find me when you get there. I want to meet Ian...if the two of you aren't too 'occupied'." She knew, somehow. The airport was fairly new and heavily subsidized by companies that had laid claim to all the restaurants, bars and shops. It was, however, easy to navigate and I got to Ian's gate an hour early. Those were the days when you could just walk right in with no security checks. I had a Stephen King paperback and plenty of time to calm my nerves and read. His flight arrived early and I stood up from my chair. I'm pretty sure I'd lost the ability to breath or blink. There He was! I was caught off-guard by the fact that he was walking with a cane. Eh -- who knows when and how things could flare up with AIDS? He saw me and smiled brightly. I couldn't help but run up and hug him. "Welcome!" "You should have seen your face -- it was like a beacon! A bright and shining beacon!" Our embrace lasted a long time because neither of us wanted it to end. "Let's get your bags...it's this way." "My doctor advised me to bring the cane because the altitude here is so high. Tall blokes like me could pass out very easily in environments like this. I've even brought little cans of oxygen, the same kind climbers use on Everest." The drive was short and scenic.I kept asking him if he could breathe okay and he finally demanded I stop the queries. "I'm fine, Bradley. Just being with you makes me stronger. It's so beautiful here. How do you get anything done without being distracted by all of this?" "You can look at the mountains from my parents' backyard. I used to stay out at night and try to watch for UFOs." We arrived at The Embassy Suites and parked. I carried both our bags to the lobby. I insisted Ian check in first so he could then sit down a bit. He had a giant suite on the top floor while my more modest room was on 5. "Let me rest for a bit and then I'll come get you. 501? Yes. It's been a long trip." He was helped with his bags from somebody on staff. I was too wired to sleep or even read my book. I'd just go see if Shawna was here yet. "Brad! Good to see you! Isn't this place nice? Why is your face all red?" "I'm out of shape and had to carry all my own bags." "Uh huh. Is Ian here?" "Yep. He's taking a nap now." "Let's hit the mini-bar. It's nice to have an expense account...I feel like I'm important." We each had a little bottle of vodka and relaxed. "What time did you get here?" "11 this morning. I wanted to get in as much time to prepare for tomorrow as I could. I'm not a main speaker, but I'm doing some of the introductions. I've gone over my notes a million times...and I still need to find the correct pronunciation of some of these names...especially the African ones." "You'll do great. You have a way of taking over a room and owning it." "Aren't you a doll. Want another drink? You can have anything but the wine...I'm saving that in case I meet some nice lady who likes chubby girls. My hopes aren't real high because it's almost all men here. Cute ones too. There's another vodka in there, but I think it's citrus-flavored. You mind that?" We drank a little more and watched a baseball game. I wondered if Ian was awake by now. I'd head back to my room and wait. The phone was ringing as I unlocked the door. "Hello?" "I had a wonderful rest, but now I'm famished. Care for an early dinner?" "Sure. Want to meet in my room, your room or down at the bar?" "I'm not dressed. Give me about thirty minutes to shower and get ready. OK? I'll meet you at the pub." "Sure." I'd just had a shower four or five hours ago, so I picked out something to change into. My clothes were mostly boring, but I'd upped my fashion game a little in anticipation of the conference...and Ian. I was ready in fifteen minutes. I went down to the restaurant and sat at the bar. It was too early for dinner so the place was deserted. The bartender was a young ginger guy who looked too young to serve alcohol. And yet he carded me. I wasn't old enough to buy a well drink so I just got a beer. I'd barely finished it when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Ian! "Looks like we had the same idea. I thought I'd get here first and have a drink while waiting. I never drink, but I am letting go on this trip. Even had a scotch or two on the flight." "You look great!" "As do you, mate. You look good in that color, and not many men are complimented by green." "it's only 5. I don't think they're seating people for dinner yet. Are you still hungry?" "Near starvation." "Well...we can get an appetizer and eat here." The bar menu was a complete mystery to Ian. "What on Earth are 'Loaded Potato Skins'?" "It's like pieces of baked potato with all kinds of stuff on top...cheese, bacon, green onions and sour cream." He looked doubtful. "Sounds very American. Let's get that!" We ordered and the bartender brought us another round of drinks. "It's probably going to be good. This is a four-star restaurant." "So tell me things, Bradley. Do you still believe in UFOs? I was a little tyke when we lived in New Mexico, and I remember so many tourists coming to look for aliens." "I pretty much don't believe in anything any more." "What about love?" "Yes. Because that is a real thing." We clinked our drinks. His smile was so beautiful. Our appetizer arrived and it was way too much food. Luckily, Ian loved them. For such a thin guy, he ate fast. "A bit salty, but I like it." I had exactly two of them before deciding I was too stuffed to eat a full dinner. "Yummy. Want another plate?" "No. I'm full." "Yeah. Me too. Why don't we sit here for a while and charm the barkeep. See which of us he fancies more." Well of course it would be him. It was. He sweet-talked the boy into serving me scotch as well. It was not unlike the whiskey Dad and I had shared. "We need to have a proper meal here sometime. It's kind of famous in the area. Hey - where's your cane?" "Left it in the room. I guess you'll have to let me lean on you if I get dizzy on the way back." "Can't wait." "Can't you now? One more drink and we'll go." As promised, Ian wrapped an arm around my shoulders as we got on the elevator. It was a long trip to the 10th floor and we locked lips the whole ride. He was an expert kisser and I never wanted to stop. Ding. We were here. His suite was very, very nice. All I'd ever wanted was about to happen. He shucked off his comically-long loafers and invited me to sit. He pulled out a can of compressed oxygen and inhaled. "Feeling light-headed?" "You could say that. Shed your clothes, Bradley. Relax and turn on the telly if you want." I got completely nude and couldn't help but notice how pale my body was. Ian stripped down and stood quietly, letting me look at whatever I wanted to. He had a full hard-on. I wanted to taste it, lick it. He read my mind and let it jut out inches from my face. No words were spoken as I took the pointy tool in my lips and savored the flavors. I always knew I'd do this one day. The sucking part was more of a challenge...I choked a little as it went over my tongue and aimed for my throat. "Well done, Luv. Lie back and let me suck you for a bit." I hadn't counted on that part. The fantasies had always involved my mouth and a penis. It would be exciting. My penis was not as large as his, but I was not ashamed of it. Oh my GOD! It felt perfect! His lips were amazingly expert and the fur on his beard tickled my balls in a delicious way. I sure as hell didn't want to ejaculate yet. "Stop! It feels just way too good." He pulled away while looking at me with dark, glistening eyes. He moved closer and hoisted my ankles over his shoulders. I felt one of his fingers poke in my anus. It was surprising and painful. "Oh no! I've been had! You're a fucking virgin who's never had a dick before! You're not even positive, right? What is wrong with you, Bradley? ??!" "It's not...I'm not...I'm..." He got up off the bed and opened his bag. He inhaled some more oxygen and then found a tube of something. "My fault, really. I somehow knew all this already. Why didn't you just come right out and ask me to convert you?" "It...it got too late. Don't blame me for falling in love with you!" That seemed to have taken the heat out of his anger. "Yes. I get that. But still.... There's good and bad news, mate. The good news is that you're going to get what you want. The bad news is that I can't trust you ever again. Without trust there can't be love." He looked sad but his hard-on bobbed and danced. "I understand, Ian. I'm sorry." He grimly oiled up his pecker and collapsed on top of me. He returned us to that same position as before as he rubbed some of that cream stuff on my hole. He was not even trying to be gentle with his fingers this time. I bit my lip. I deserved the discomfort. He wouldn't look directly in my eyes. I was getting so much and yet almost nothing of what I wanted. Maybe all sex was like that. He replaced his greasy fingers with his unsheathed penis. He pushed in urgently and completely ignored cries of pain that I couldn't help but let out. "Not now. Keep your mouth shut or I'll stop." I weighed that option for a few excruciating seconds. He'd obviously not lost any of his angry momentum. He pumped until the full length and width of him was deep inside of me. I wondered if I'd ever agree to go through with sex again. Ian was sweating and groaning and pumping with a frenzy. I felt like one big wound that was being violated over and over. At one critical point, the crashing waves of pain gave way to throbs of pleasure. I held his shoulders and he allowed that. His eyes were squeezed shut. He must have been getting close because his breathing was ragged and desperate. "Oh, Ian! This is...Oh!" I came. He'd driven the semen out of me. "HERE!!". He let out a volley oh his toxic seed deep within me. It was over. Was it worth it? It was. I'd answer the same even now. I met Shawna the next morning for breakfast. I had not slept but for a few minutes here and there. "You look like Hell, Brad! Did you and Ian have too much fun last night?" "No. I just had too much to drink." "You? I'm surprised. Well, I had a lovely time with Unia. She's a strikingly beautiful woman from Nigeria. Speaks four languages! We took a long stroll after dinner. She's speaking right after Ian Furmedge today." Just hearing his name gave me a sharp chest pain. "What's wrong? If I didn't know better... Oh no. Your heart is broken, isn't it? Shit. Let's get you a Bloody Mary and some food." Tears fell from my eyes despite my efforts to hold them in. "I'm just an idiot." The Bloody Marys arrived and the spicy cocktail did indeed make me feel better. I picked at the Eggs Benedict. Shawna ordered us more cocktails. I felt better about half way through the second glass. "Eat the celery at least. Want to hear the introduction I'm giving Ian?" I shook my head as the tears threatened to come flooding back. "OK. Why don't you just take the day off? You can start fresh tomorrow and take notes...and Brad?" "Yes?" "This too shall pass." Of course it would. It was a life lesson in the most extreme way. She ordered us each two more Bloody Marys and let me drink most of hers. I was going to be so dehydrated later. "You can stay here as long as you want, but I've got to get the hall now. This is all being charged to my room so order whatever you want." "No. I'm done. I'll ride up with you." Back in my room, I stretched out on the bed and read the collection of Stephen King's short stories. Most of them were quite good. Despite the addictive power of his words, I fell asleep and napped most of the day. No dreams. I raided my own mini-bar for a Snickers bar and a bag of pistachios. No way was I leaving the room. I watched "Sixteen Candles" on the TV and thought about my future. I'd have to get tested eventually and enter some kind of treatment. Fuck it. I'd go down to restaurant and eat a cheeseburger or something. As I put my shoes on, there was a knock on my door. It was Ian. "I'm sorry, Bradley. I treated you awful." "Come in. I deceived you and it was the worst mistake of my life." "You didn't come to my talk. I scanned the crowd, hoping to find you. Once I realized you weren't there, I hurried my speech and left out half of what I wanted to say. I talked to Shawna. She's a character alright! She wanted to know what I'd done to make you upset. What did you say?" "I told her nothing. She just saw it in my face. She's some kind of psychic or a witch or something." "Can we talk?" "Sure, have a seat. Can I get you something?" "I'm fine." He sat on the edge of my rumpled bed and let out a long sigh. "Do you accept my apology for being so nasty? I didn't mean to be." "Of course. I deserved it." "Nobody should ever be talked to that way." He took off his big gym shoes, peeled up the inner pad and produced a joint. "Fancy a spliff?" I couldn't believe he'd brought that on the plane with him. "How did you..." "These sneaks smell so rank, I knew none of those dogs would ever sniff it out." "I was about to head down to get some food. Want to come with me?" "I've a better idea. Let's smoke this and order room service. What are you watching?" I could smell his discarded shoes. "It's almost over." "Come lie down next to me." I did. He was so gorgeously long. Things were looking up. He used a book of paper matches to light the weed. I only knew about smoking from a Cheech and Chong movie I'd seen...and from watching my roommate. "It's not all that strong, but very soothing to the nerves. I had shingles last year and it blunted the pain nicely." "I'm sorry I wasn't there to see your speech, Ian." He passed me the joint. The fragrance was strong and pleasant. It was obviously better quality than the homegrown shit I'd smelled before. I inhaled and held it in. "I still love you, Bradley. I have to now because you're carrying my child." I suppose that was a nice way of putting it. This guy... "Oh look. The 'Amityville Horror' is on. Have you seen it?" "I don't think so. Hungry yet? You will be soon." We watched our clouds drift toward the ceiling. I started talking about the movie and the book, about how terrified I was. I talked about reading the book while staying home from school with strep throat. The pot made me so talkative. "I'll ring room service. Get some more of those potato skins up here. Tomorrow night we'll go out for a nice dinner." "Sounds good to me." We finished the weed and soaked up contented silence. After the potato skins were consumed, I might have dozed for a minute or two. I was awakened by Ian straddling my face with his enormous cock aiming for open lips. "Shh. You're still dreaming, mate." It was the greatest waking dream I'd ever had. I ultimately swallowed his thick, salty load. He indulged me with all sorts of 'first times' over the next three days. I liked everything except eating ass, but Ian assured me I'd come to love it eventually. OK. We had our proper dinner with Shawna and her new woman. It was a lovely evening and made me feel so lucky to be alive. I was harboring a deadly virus now, but feeling more immortal than I ever had before. When I drove Ian back to the airport, he came right out and asked me if I was going to write about us. "You've no doubt got the best story of anyone who attended." "No. I wouldn't compromise either of us like that. I have two hundred pages of notes to go through -- that's not including the taped interviews you arranged for me. You and I are off the record." We hugged a long time at the airport with promises to see each other again soon. Each of us exchanged several 'I love you's. And then he was gone. For now. I spent the Summer researching and writing. Shawna went back home to Wyoming, but we kept in constant contact. I sent her rough drafts of everything I'd written and she was very encouraging. I ended up splitting the rent on a small apartment with Dan. He was the best and worst possible roommate, but at least he had no problem with brutal honesty. He listened without judgement as I recounted my Boulder experience. Ultimately, my writing was published in widely-read journal put out by The World Health Organization. My interview with AIDS researcher Donald St. Pierre was published by the school newspaper. Shawna had arranged a really hefty grant to study in England and keep writing reports. I left for the UK that October and never came back.
  9. The Biohazard Bus

    I knew that people who'd lost a lot of blood tended to get dizzy and pass out. I felt fine, considering that little streams of life were still running out of me. I'd just read an article in National Geographic about victims of shark attacks. They'd lose so much blood that they fainted and drowned before the pain really set in. "It's a kid. One of Nick's finds, I presume. He looks almost dead. Sal....did you cut him?" "Nuh uh, Boss. He's just been worked over a little." How to describe Marco? He was a tall, Italian, good-looking guy in expensive clothes that were too heavy for Summer. He was young-ish but gaunt and obviously very sick. He was pure evil, pure demon. And hot. I was frozen in place. "What? Who said that?" Nobody had spoken. "Yeah - we definitely should take him down to Mexico. I can get a jet here in an hour." I remember one of the guys (Sal?) saying something about him suffering from dementia. Oh hell. Everything was very new and very ominous now. "You guys go to the back and get a beer. I need some time with this boy." Nick took a second to touch my back before leaving with the rest of the crew. "And get dressed. We'll need to get out of here afterwards." They stopped, took their clothes and scattered. It was just Marco and I. He shed his nice wool coat and let me see just how deathly thin he was. "Quite a night, huh?" I never once thought I was going to die until now. "It's an honor to meet you, sir." "Save it. Come here and take the dick out of my pants." I guess I had to. I walked to him on weak legs and knelt at his feet as if he were a saint or something. My arms and hands weren't working so well but I found the fly of his designer pants and opened it. He undid the top button himself which was very courteous. The crotch hair was dark black and abundant, but I didn't have time to see much of it before the biggest, fattest penis in the world sprang out. My vision was a little blurry, but I was still impressed in a perverted way. I kissed it and stroked my tongue up and down the pole. He stood completely still and let me work. It was at that point that I fell over on my side. "Get up. I don't fuck on a damn bloody mattress....so stand and turn around. What? Talk louder, God!" I was so dizzy, but I still somehow stood up. He bent me over a little and made zero effort to go slow. He just plowed that enormous tool right in to the hilt. "You might be my last fuck, Brian. Get ready." Brian? It would be the dumbest thing to correct him. "Too much blood...WAY too much. It better not get on my loafers - these cost 900 dollars." He did the thrusting motion I'd gotten somewhat used to now. "Oh GOD...you're so huge!!" I had the idea that compliments would make him feel good. The truth was that my nerve endings were long gone. I didn't feel anything but pressure and motion. No sting and no throb as he came. I wanted to sleep now. "There you go. You have the same seed as the rest of those morons got already. Let it take." I think he wanted me to stand still, but I collapsed. The shark had done its job. I thought of the ocean as my head hit the mattress. My bare legs were on the concrete floor. More bruises and more blood. I'd go ahead and die here, I guess. I was just playing dead though. Maybe he'd simply wander off in his own private craziness. Here's what I heard as he opened a door and exited. "He's dead, boys. Somebody take care of it. My limo is waiting. Nick -- we need to talk tomorrow. Not early. I'll call you." I used to pretend I was dead and imagine what it was really like. The white light, the dead relatives, my childhood dog running up to me with his favorite toy. But I was very much alive. A rush of heavy boots came up to me. Nick knelt down and shook me a little. "Jeff?" "Hi." "Thank God. I need to get you out of here. You're hurt bad." "If he's not dead, you need to give him those pills and leave him in the country somewhere. Far." Pete. I could still taste his cum. "I told you I'd take care of this. I'm taking the van." Things were so confusing. Where was I? Who was I? What happened? I must have had a car accident after the senior prom. Paula Abdul was singing. I was sitting in the front seat and Nick was talking a mile a minute. "We're going back to get your car. I know you can't drive, but I'll get you to the hospital. I have some stuff that will make you forget everything. I'm expected to drug you and dump you in the middle of nowhere...but I can't. If you want to forget everything, I'll give you half. I'm so sorry. Can you hear me?" We were back outside Chuckie's. My car was still there, like an old friend. Nick helped me to the passenger side because I guess he had also snagged my keys at some point. My wallet. I needed that because my insurance card was in it. "Can I please have the wallet back?" "It's already in your back pocket...with all your cards and all the cash. I'm not a bad man, Jeff. I just got involved with all this to make money. You're alive...and you can turn us all in. I wouldn't blame you. I'm moving. But I won't forget you." "I...I'm not breathing very well." "It's OK. You'll be OK. We're here. I'm about twenty feet from the ER entrance. Can you walk that far?" "No." "Well, I can't get any closer. Make it as far as you can while I park your car. I can walk back on my own. Or something." It was over. I was standing alone. I was cold and wished I'd worn a coat even though it was probably 75 degrees that morning. I wish the damn sun would come up. The warm sun. I made it about five feet before I collapsed. Blood and semen were dribbling out of my ass. I just needed a small nap and then I'd be fine. The asphalt in the parking lot was still warm from the day. So nice. "Hey! Do you need help?" If I remember right, it was a young married couple and the woman was heavily pregnant. I must have looked pretty bad because the guy seemed more concerned about me than with his poor wife. "I gotta get Kim checked in, but I'll tell them you're here. Hang in there." I either said or thought I said "Congratulations." Within less than a minute, a couple of men came out and asked me to talk to them, tell them what happened. I didn't feel like talking just then. I woke up in a very nice bed.The room was bright and a nice nurse lady was fussing with some tube attached to my arm. It was bright and sunny outside the window. I didn't know where I was and I mostly didn't care. "Hi." "Goodness! You're awake! You're in a hospital right now. How do you feel? Do you have pain?" "Some. What happened?" "The doctor will be in here soon and explain everything. Let me get him, and then we'll take care of your pain." She would be prettier if she lost a few pounds. You can't tell women stuff like that. I looked at the TV on the wall. "Facts of Life". God, was that show ever not being broadcast on some channel. Mrs. Garrett, Jo, Blair, Tootie, Natalie. It was nice to see them. "So I hear you've returned to the world! Welcome back!" The doctor was a pleasant red-headed man. His voice was warm and friendly. "Do you know what happened to you? Do you know how you got here? Did someone bring you? Who?" "I was going to go try and find a tire store. That's all I remember." "We'll get you some lunch. Try to think. Don't be alarmed, but a police detective will need to ask you some things. He's right outside the door now. Just don't try and get out of bed today. If you need the bathroom, press that blue button. You've got stitches in your bottom and we don't want those popping out." I talked to various doctors, cops and even a social worker. I gave no details...even though my brain was overflowing with them. Specific details. I had found the bus...it was real. I got to go home a week later. I couldn't drive myself because my car was confiscated as evidence. The thing that puzzled them the most was that only the passenger seat was soaked in my blood. They wanted to know who brought me to the ER. I told them I had no idea. There were stills from the parking lot security camera footage that they kept showing me. It was Nick's back as he walked away, "That's a big dude...you don't remember meeting or seeing someone that size?" I liked this detective the best of all of them. Mitch. "No." "Come on, man. Doc says you don't have any brain damage and that there's no reason you should have amnesia. You hiding something? Protecting somebody?" "I'm not." He shook his head and sighed. "Please try. You'd help us, the city and most of all - yourself. Would you agree to go under hypnosis? It could help us stop this from happening to anyone else." I wasn't legally obligated to see a hypnotist so I didn't. Once I was well enough to go home, the questions ended. My work gave me 12 weeks of leave. Supposedly they hadn't been told what had happened, but things have a way of leaking out. I guess my name was in the newspaper once or twice. My parents had no idea what I'd been through, but I had to tell them something. I played it down as just a mugging, and said I was completely recovered now. Mom wanted to come look after me, but I insisted I just needed time to rest. Dad sent me a check -- which was pretty much the only way he knew how to show concern. Not complaining. I used the time to write down everything I remember about that day/night. On the advice of the hospital's resident counselor, I went to a 'rape victim support group'...once. I was the only male in the room. I didn't need support or help or therapy. I was even strangely accepting of the fact that I most likely had HIV. I was supposed to get tested in a month, but wasn't really dreading it. It was what it was. You'd think I'd run out of details to remember about the incident, but they kept popping up every time I opened my blue notebook. I tested positive for the AIDS virus about a week before my time off from work was over. More questions, more advice, more lists of support groups. I'd learned to just keep quiet and nod. I really felt fine. At least I did until I retrieved my mail that evening and found a letter from someone that I knew instantly was Nick. I waited a good twenty minutes before opening it. Deep breath. Hi Jeff I hope you're still at the address that was on your driver's license. I also hope you are doing okay...I actually hope you're doing great, but I understand that things are probably complicated in your head. I now live in a small Missouri town just outside Kansas City. You might remember that I told you I was moving. I needed to get away from what I was doing and what I was becoming. I'm a good person. Marco's people would never think to look for me here. I am so truly sorry for what happened to you. So, so SO sorry!! I could have stopped it but I was too afraid of that bunch. I keep replaying the night in my head and imagining all the ways I could of kept you from harm. It keeps me awake every night. I guess what bothers me the most is that I really, really liked you. I wish I could turn back time for both of us. I want to date you and hold your hand at the movies and make love to you in a natural, gentle way. I suppose you'll never allow that now. Do you ever think of me? On the back of this page is my address and phone number. Please call me. PLEASE!!!! Love, Nick P.S. Please? I don't know. I guess I'll call.
  10. The Biohazard Bus

    I wish I could say I was shocked. It was all coming together for me now. The Biohazard Bus was real and I'd practically bought a ticket by missing clues. The free drinks, the CB radios, the careful scrutiny, the 'accidental' strobe light. I was caught off guard by Nick's betrayal but even that was exactly what the old guy had warned me about...giving your trust too freely. I'd have to deal with my carelessness now, take my medicine. Nick pulled me into the huge, black SUV. The dome light was covered with some black plastic of some kind. I think it was a trash bag. "You coming with us, Nick? Don't you have to work?" The voice asking belonged to the guy sitting next to me. At first I thought he was naked, but was wearing a jockstrap. "No. I need to come along this time. This is Jeff." A few of the passengers mumbled "Hi", but I couldn't see what they looked like because there was almost no light. I could tell I was in the second row of seats between Nick and the jockstrap guy. My best guess is that there at least four others. "Is he legal?," asked the driver. "Yup. I got a hold of his wallet at the bar and checked his driver's license. But get this -- he came looking for us. He wanted to see if it was real or a myth." "A volunteer? That's a first. I don't know how Marco is gonna like that. Did you slip something into his drink?" "Didn't have to. He drank a lot and then succumbed to my charms." "Yeah right. There's not that much booze in the world." I'll skip the remainder of the short ride except to say that I was bizarrely not panicked. I didn't once think to yell or struggle. Also, Nick had his arm around my shoulders again, but I was no longer stupid or drunk enough to think this was real affection -- he was keeping me under control and that was all. We ended up in a glaringly bright garage...like the professional kind, not residential. Weirdly, I first noticed how clean the concrete floor was. No dirt and no grease spots. Mentally, I was either in shock or denial or possibly I was excited. Probably a combination. I got a good look at my six captors. The jockstrap guy was about 50 - 55. average height, very skinny except for a beer gut, no body hair and assorted tattoos -- including one identical to the 'BB' tat on Nick's wrist. 'Biohazard Bus'. That had to be it. Jockstrap guy was also massaging his crotch into a full boner that was visible beneath the filthy jock. He seemed to be the leader. "Fuck! Nobody blindfolded him??! He can see us! Nick?" "It's okay, dude. I get the feeling that he's cool with all this. If not, I'll take care of it. Just don't film this time." "Fuck you. Just because you're bigger than me doesn't mean you're in charge...I'll taze you. Marco will expect to see something." "Well, fuckin' call him down here and he can watch for himself." Nick moved closer to me. "I don't know. He's been in bad shape lately." "I'll call him," a tall black guy around my age said. He had a great body that was a marred with long scars on his chest and stomach. Jockstrap leader seemed doubtful. "This is not how we do it, Nick. You better be right about this or you'll be in the kind of trouble there aren't words for." The other three guys ranged in ages from 30 to 60. One was white and other two were mixed. None of them were gorgeous but they weren't awful either. They were stripping down, leaving on their socks for some reason. A range of hard-ons bobbed up and down as if there was a breeze in here. The black guy came back from wherever and said "He's coming. He sounded almost normal. Almost. Dude's head is all wrong. Hope I die before that dementia shit kicks in." "You probably will. Go get the mattress, Sal." Sal walked over to the wall and drug over a red air mattress and plopped it on the floor. "Good job. Get his clothes off so I can breed his cute little ass." Nick - who was still clothed - stepped me and Jock. "I get him first, Pete." "Don't use my name, goddammit! You're pushing it now. Why do you think you get to go before me?" "I may have the virus, but I don't have all the other bugs you guys do. I don't want to catch your shit." Pete paused, considered. "Well...I guess you got a point. We need you to stay healthy as long as possible so you can find us more fresh ass." Nick looked down at me. "It'll be okay. Get your clothes off." I did without really thinking too much about what was about to happen. I was naked, but I didn't have an erection...until I saw Nick get naked. He had a dick that was a work of art. It was big but looked below average compared to his giant frame. He had a nice line of hair that went from between his nipples and went straight down to his pubes. I popped a boner instantly. "Whoa! That's a nice boy dick! I think he's in love with you, Nick," Sal said in a teasing voice. "I know he is." He gave me a smile and a wink. Pete cursed a little as I went down on the mattress with Nicks mass of flesh covering me. We were kissing again. Deeply, roughly. His facial stubble was wearing my lips raw. He whispered in my ear with that delicious deep voice: "I will be as easy as possible. You've never done any of this, have you?" I answered with my eyes. I didn't know what sex felt like. If it felt as good as masturbation did then I didn't see the problem. God, to be that stupid again. "Get on your hands and knees...it's easier that way." He was still whispering but then shouted out "Get me the lube somebody!" Sal or one of the others brought him a king-size tub of Vaseline. I got on all fours, but looked over my shoulder to watch him rub down his super hard dick with the jelly. I could do this...I knew I could. I wanted it. It wasn't until he stuck a greasy finger up my ass that I thought twice. It hurt in an unreal way. I grunted. "Try to relax a little, Jeff. Push your ass out like you're farting." He put another thick finger inside me. I tried to relax, but tell me -- how in the world does one TRY to relax? Pete got impatient. "Marco wants to see rape, Nick. Not a fucking Falcon video. Just cum in him and let us have our turn." I hated that guy. "He's a virgin, you asshole! If I don't ease him into this you guys will have to fuck a corpse!" "Wouldn't be the first time." I knew Nick was on thin ice with these thugs. "Go ahead, Nick. Cum in me." Some hoots and hollers erupted from the small group. I was thrilled with the whole scene now. ..or at least I was before Nick's fat cock head went inside of me. DAMN! I was sure I was going to die. I yelled "NO!" "Ain't nobody can hear you, kid. We really should have taped this." I don't know who said that. I didn't learn any other names. Nick was as gentle and slow as he could be without pissing off the BB crowd. It felt horrible, like my guts were being stabbed. I just decided to ride it out. There was an identical tub of Vaseline in the bathroom of the house I grew up in. I used it for the frequent chapped lips I had back then. I always wondered why we had such a big thing of it if that's the only thing it was for. I pictured all the other things about my childhood bathroom, anything to take my mind off the pain. Only now it wasn't so terrible. He had the length of his shaft all the way inside of me, but still being gentle. "Lift his head up a little so he can suck me." Ugh. That Pete guy. Okay...how bad could it be compared to what was going on down below? As Nick sped up the pace of his fucking, A dick was suddenly pushing between my lips. It was fairly large, but not in a bizarre way. "Do a good job or I'll break your neck." I found it hot. A man's private organ was in my private mouth. I just sucked as much of it as I could and that seemed to satisfy Pete. I was more focused on the dick that was deep inside my body. It was exquisite somehow, the sudden throb of pleasure from within. "Shit. I'm gonna fuckin' cum now, Jeff. I'm so sorry." My nerve endings didn't feel Nick's sperm shoot but my mind did. My soul did. You'd think that climax would have liberated me of my own load. It didn't. I was so empty when he pulled out and sighed. I regret that he and I were done, but I concentrated on sucking the dick snaking its way toward my throat. Turns out I was a natural cocksucker. No gagging, no gasping. I don't think Pete was expecting that. His breath quickened and he grabbed the sides of my head. "No. Not..now... I..." He shot his goo in my mouth. I swallowed. "No way is this guy a virgin. He's done stuff." The black guy (Sal) said, "Just look at all the blood, man. Look...it's all over the place. Nick's cock is as red as a stoplight. He gets two minutes to recover and then I'm going to fuck that shit." A bottle of beer to hydrate. I caught my breath and looked at the other dicks around me. Sure -- I could handle whatever they wanted to do. I was also still hard. I didn't once consider disease or my fate, I just lied down on my back. It's exhausting to get everything you ever wanted. I may have closed my eyes for a second. "You want it like that? I like it." Sal was standing over me with his long black wand hovering and bobbing. I wondered if those scars came from knife wounds...from prison maybe. He dropped to his knees and stared into my eyes. "I'd eat your ass, but it's a mess." "I understand." I didn't feel the bleeding. He lifted my legs up over his shoulders. It may sound odd but I was ready to be fucked again....ready to be full of cock once more. Sal was all too happy to do to do just. His tool was thinner than Nick's, but there was still a quick jab of pain when I was entered again. "Shit! He's still tight as fuck...even after all that." His breath was a little rank as he exhaled heavily. "It's secondhand, but it's so nice in there." His two fleshy lips pressed down onto mine. It wasn't the slightest bit romantic, but I found it sexy nonetheless. My hands wandered up his back and felt more scar tissue back there. I wandered if he'd been in a gang. My ass was making wet sounds as he just plowed in and out like a farm animal in heat. I winced and sucked in air between my clenched teeth. "Get your damn bald head out of the way, Sal. I want to sit on his face." I don't know who said that, but I soon found a heavy,hairy ass covering my nose and mouth. There was no poo smell--which I'd assumed there would be. I knew I had to work up the desire to lick and kiss the hole forcing it's way down. So much of what I was doing now seemed natural...as if I were getting instructions from an unknown part of my brain. Moans and cuss words came from both guys. I think they were close to climaxing when a loud 'slam' sound came from somewhere. "WHAT'S THIS?? I told you to wait for me!" Both dick and ass left me in an instant. Nick walked over and lifted me up by my shoulders. "Just stand, Jeff. Can you? Be calm." I was feeling okay until I looked down and saw that my socks were completely soaked with red blood. I was standing in a puddle of it. No way could all of this had come from me. "Marco is here. I'm so sorry."
  11. (names have been changed) 1985 Who knows how urban legends get started? In the little Nebraska town (which could hardly be called 'urban') I grew up in, there was a story about an evil green skeleton that lived in the creek next to our grade school. He's grab you if you got too close to the water and then drown you. The origins and details kept changing over the years and supposedly, somebody had an actual picture of it. Our playground came right up to the chain link fence that kept us away from the creek. The boys made a game of who could get closest to fence. I once made it within two feet of it before running back. Our bravest, most toughest kid went all the way up and actually touched the fence! We couldn't hardly believe it. Years later, I spent the night at Kenny Grossmon's house and we snuck out at night and went to creek. Kenny had brought a flashlight and a little bottle of water he got from the bathroom at the Nazarene church. It sort of was like holy water as far as we were concerned. There were wild weeds and scrub trees surrounding the creek. We were both acting and talking casual, but we were both scared. We made it close enough to hear the water before a branch or something snapped and the sound made us run all the way back to his house where we watched Elvira and didn't talk about what we'd done. 1995 So I'm in my early 20's now and living in a big city, far away from the green skeleton. I work in a warehouse for a chemical company. I'd majored in English, but this job paid way more than anything I could make teaching. I wrote embarrassingly bad poetry sometimes, but never had dreams of showing it anybody or ever being published. I'd found my way into the gay world -- mainly from going to bars and meeting guys in my neighborhood. I'd even had dates here and there, but never any sex. AIDS showed no signs of ever going away or even being treated effectively. I didn't trust condoms because they could break. I once bought a box of them and played with them. They were just so fragile. It was from a friend of mine that I first heard about 'The Biohazard Bus'. Another urban legend that kept changing and was the subject of many bar conversations. Supposedly, there was a bus full of HIV+ men who would drive around the streets at night and capture guys right off the sidewalk. They'd all take turns raping the victim with no condoms on. It sounded so fake. I mean -- a whole bus?? How did they ever not get caught? The details were sketchy and ever changing. No, it was a van. No, it was an SUV. No, it was a stretch limo. The green skeleton sounded more legit than this bus. I finally got connected to the internet which provided me with a whole new way to waste my time. It was so primitive in those days, but I found a local bulletin board for gays and lesbians. It was mostly about community events, parades and charity stuff. There was one headline about the Biohazard Bus with 398 posts. I went right to the last few to see if there were any new developments. It was then that I realized I was maybe a little too curious about this. Keno: I know a guy who got abducted by them. He was coming out of Chuckie's by himself. Cub31: That is a shit bar. It's on Highland Street which is where many bad things can happen to you. People get shot. Keno: Only walk out of any bar with somebody else with you. I had never heard of the bar they were talking about. Or Highland Street. Why oh why was so drawn to this story? Danger and sex are an intriguing combo, I guess. There was a part of myself I was denying at that point. I will tell you that I was pretty sure I'd end up at Chuckie's eventually. I just had to find it. I started by searching the yellow pages for any businesses on Highland Street. There wasn't anything listed. I asked around. My seedy neighbor -who I'm almost sure was a drug dealer - knew where it was. "That area is pretty dicey. Your car will get stolen." He gave me some general directions. Back then, our city's downtown had been decimated by the suburbs and malls. I didn't even know if the streetlights worked there. My heart sped up at the thought of driving there. I decided I'd try and go to Chuckie's during the daytime. A Saturday afternoon, possibly. Was noon too early? I didn't know much about anything back then. It was a sunny June afternoon (around 2 PM) that I ventured out. I kept forgetting to breathe. You'd think alarms would flash in my brain or something...or that common sense would kick in. Nope. I passed the little bar called Chuckie's. twice. I couldn't do this. Maybe if I knew judo or something, I'd feel safer. This place was scary enough in the day...what the hell would it be like at night?? At least I knew where it was now. Fuck it. I parked right around the corner from the bar. "I'll have one beer and then go home," I told the scared,pale boy looking back at me in the rear view mirror. I can't even remember how I made it to the front door. I was technically sober, but nerves made me sort of stumble a little. A beer would be so good now. I'd earned it. Chuckie's was super dark and smoky. Not very crowded at all. The bartender was a jolly-looking guy in his late 40's/early 50's. "Hi! You here for the bust?" The bust? Did he think I was a cop or something? "The bust?" "Beer bust. For ten dollars you get a cup and all the beer you can drink. How old are you?" "24." "I'll believe you. I'll give you a discount...7.50. You get a free shot at the top of every hour -- which you just missed. I'll start you out with a freebie. It's nice to see a new face in here." I handed him a ten and got my mini cup of beer and complimentary shot. I was new at drinking, but I knew you did the shot first and followed it with a chug beer. Right? OK. I relaxed a little. There was a Chuckie doll up against the mirror behind the bartender. My guess is that this place had been named before the 'Child's Play' movie came out, but they just went with it. To this day I still don't know how to 'fit in' and strike up conversations with people. I stayed put on the bar stool that had been mended with duck tape. I heard the familiar sound of a pinball game in the corner but it was next to a table of scary-looking guys. "How come I never seen you before?" "I don't get out all that much. I needed to buy tires, but I got lost trying to find the place. I stopped here." Lie after lie poured out of my mouth. The truth was too sick. "No tire places around here. I'm Leslie, by the way. I've been here for years." "I'm Jeff. I moved here three months ago. It's not that busy today." "It'll pick up. Most beer busts take place on Sundays, but we changed ours to Saturday. The guy who owns this place is a mafia son with a coke habit...he wants to start making more money. Plus...." I waited. "Plus this area is the subject of many rumors." A-ha! He knew about the urban legend. I played dumb. "Rumors?" "Oh, nothing. You know how queens love to gossip." Leslie and I talked for a while as he kept refilling my cup and sneaking me extra shots. I began losing track of how many I'd had. I'd need to leave while the sun was still out. "Well...it's getting late, Leslie. I should go." "What? It's only 5:30. You got a hot date or something?" "Nah. I just don't know the area very well and want to leave while it's still daytime. Plus -- I think I'm a little buzzed." "The sun will be out for at least another two hours. We can always call you a cab...or have our bouncer escort you to your car." There was no bouncer among these guys. "His name is Nick and he's a huge guy. Nothing will happen to you." Fine. I just needed to slow down with the beer. "Does that pinball game work?" "Yep. It's brand new. Need quarters?" We made the exchange of bills for coins and he refilled my cup. I'd played this particular machine before. It was making the rounds, I guess. The beer was giving me stomach acid. I should have asked for a coke. In a minute. I played a dollar's worth of quarters and racked up the top three scores. I didn't want to sit down so much as I didn't want to stand anymore. I turned to leave and saw Leslie talking into what I thought was a CB radio. No way. Here? He caught my eye for a quick second and put the microphone thingy down. How weird. I walked about two steps before somebody grabbed my belt loop in the back. It was one of the scary guys I'd seen earlier. He had a Village People-type outfit on and was maybe in his 60's. "Have a seat." I didn't get a danger vibe from him. "I'm Butcher." "Nice to meet you. I'm Jeff." "Already heard that. You've been talked about since you came in." Was that good? Bad? "I...I guess I'm just new is all." "You need another beer, Jeff. So do I." He held up two fingers and Leslie scrambled right over with a pitcher to refill us. "Thanks, Leslie. I'm giving the game a rest now." "Well don't pay too much attention to this old drunk. He talks nonsense. Right, Butcher? You're full of shit, aren't you?" "Get away from us." Butcher had a seriously-lined face that you usually only see on old farmers who've worked out in the sun their whole lives. "You don't like him?" He made a spitting gesture. "Not at all. Let me ask you something....do you have a best friend?" I kinda didn't anymore. The best friend I'd ever had was Kenny Grossmon who'd moved away my sophomore year of high school. I never knew what became of him. I was about to tell him about Kenny but he continued talking. "You can't ever trust people. Not even best friends. You die when you trust too much." Top of the hour...it was 7 PM already. Leslie brought us shots and refills while he watched me carefully. "I haven't really trusted too many people in my life. My mom, maybe. I grew up in a small town." He nodded, probably wondering if I was a hick too dumb to talk to. "I got a lot of foreskin on my dick. I can fit a whole pool ball in ii." OK. I needed to excuse myself now. This old guy was no Yoda...just a cryptic drunk. "No, really. I live in the hotel down the street and you could come with me." "Maybe next time. I gotta go now." I forgot my cup and hurried back up to the bar. Leslie had been watching. "I'm glad you're back, Jeff. Did Butcher try to do something? Nick is finally here and he can get him out of here for you." "No. He was just getting too drunk, talking all weird." "Did he say anything about me?" "Not really. He doesn't like you too much. Why?" "You know why? He believes some conspiracy shit and lives in the land of make believe. I can't believe his liver hasn't given out yet. He'll pass out before 9." "Is that why you have a CB radio here? To call cabs for guys like him?" He paused a second. "Yeah. Or cops. Or a security company we use sometimes." "Makes sense. So this place is dangerous?" "Not so much...what did he tell you?" "He was vague." I wasn't about to repeat his foreskin story. "It's the top of the hour! Let's do a shot and I'll introduce you to the bouncer." I swiveled around to look at the front door. The incredibly huge guy was talking on a CB as well. So weird. I also noticed it was after dark now. Shit. At least this Nick due was as big as the Incredible Hulk. I could make it back to my car -- if it was still there. "The shot was something different this time...sharp cinnamon-flavored jet fuel. It woke me up a little. "Can I ask you something, Leslie?" He'd given me a fresh cup of beer. "Sure." "I've heard stories about this place, this street. Is there really a bus full of HIV guys who abduct people off the street and rape them?" "Butcher told you about that, didn't he? That story has been around for years and it's completely false. Why? Did you come here to find that out for yourself?" "No. I mean... sort of. I have a fascination with morbid urban legends. And...." "Say no more. I get it. I live nearby and walk home every night...by myself. I can tell you it's not true. I've seen drunk bums, drugged-out zombie kids, and runaways. But no evil AIDS bus. Ah -- here's Nick. The giant dude came and sat down next to me. He was large, but not all that muscular. He was wearing a tight t-shirt that just said 'SECURITY' on the front. He cast a shadow over everything he was near. "Is this him? Is this Jeff?" His voice was scary deep. He shook my hand. His own hands were the size of catcher's mitts. How was I known so soon? It's not like I'd talked to everybody or made a spectacle of myself. "Good to meet you, Nick." He and Leslie exchanged looks, and I swear there was a secret between them. "Yeah. We were just talking about the myths surrounding this place. He's heard about the bio bus." More looks. "Not that shit again. No wonder we're losing money. If Mario wants to turn a profit here, he needs to quash that shit." I could listen to that sexy voice all night. "Gimme a shot. Leslie. That scummy Dave guy kissed me on the mouth and I need to wash the taste away." We all had another shot. I guess these were my friends now. "Jeff here is interested in urban legends." "Oh...like the hook hanging from the car door? Stuff like that?" "Yeah. What purpose do they serve? How did they start?" I told them about the green skeleton we'd all been afraid of as kids. I was talking too much. I needed to sober up in the worst way. "I think the more important question is why do you go looking for them?" This Nick guy was so astute for a bouncer. "I'm curious. And this bus story got inside my head." There was more to it, but I was done talking about it. I noticed Nick's arm tattoos. He'd paid good money for them because they were well done and sharp. The one on his thick wrist was beautiful calligraphy. 'B B'. The bar had thinned out and we were pretty much just a group of three. Butcher had left at some point. "Time for shots! It's only 10 on a Saturday night and we're empty." Ten?? I'd been here far too long. Oh fuck it. I'd take a cab. We drank our shots. Nick kept getting closer to me and finally wrapped a big arm around my shoulders. "He's mine, Les. I'm sorry, but you've got a boy of your own somewhere, right?" Their conversation sounded like noise at this point. I was drunk but felt so warm and safe with Nick. "Call him a cab, Les. I'll walk him out." Yeah. It was probably time to go home. Leslie turned and made a 'call' or whatever you call it in CB language. I wanted to hear in case he started using that trucker language like they did on TV shows. He had stretched the cord and was talking too softly for me to listen in. He came back with a worried look. "He says it'll take 45 minutes." Okay. Whatever. I'd stop drinking and just go play some more pinball. As much as I liked Nick, there was no way I could picture myself dating him. It would look weird going out with some giant tattooed guy. People would talk. They'd assume things. I stood up from the stool and checked my front pocket for quarters. "Whoa, Hot Rod...where do you think you're going?" He had his hand on my shoulder. "I need to sober up a little. Thought I'd go splash some water on my face and play a little pinball." He and Leslie looked at each other. "Well...OK. Two games or ten minutes...whichever comes first. I'll bring you a coke or something. Deal?" "Sure." The bathroom wasn't nearly as bad as you'd think. It smelled a little like piss, but it seemed mostly clean. I rinsed my face and that didn't seem to help much. Right above the mirror, someone had scrawled "BEWARE" in marker. I just now remembered that detail. I left and went right to my machine. "You're time starts now!" Nick shouted from the bar. Why? What was the big deal? I was a paying customer after all. I mean, what the fuck? I guess my motor skills weren't all that impaired because I won a free game and beat my own high score. I guess I'd only freaked out because drinking was sort of new to me. Maybe I'd even be clear enough to drive home on my own. I hated the idea of leaving my car here and then trying to figure out how to retrieve it tomorrow. I was weighing the idea when Nick approached. "You've still got a few more minutes...I just wanted to watch you. You should see how you move when you play. You lean and work your hips and, well, it's sexy." He'd brought me a glass of Coke. "All he had was was diet. But it still has caffeine..." I'd lost the game because of the interruption, but I was done anyway. We sat down together at the same table Butcher had been sitting at earlier. Looking across at him finally gave me a chance to look right at his face. He wasn't bad looking at all - just big. His eyes were thinking eyes. "I don't think I'll be needing the cab. I feel a lot better." "I don't know, Jeff. You have to prove it to me. We'll take a walk around the block and then I'll decide if you're okay to drive." "A walk? Around here?! I don't think that's a good idea." He stood up. "Look who you're with, kid. Nothing will bad happen...except I might make a pass at you." He winked, laughed. "Just kidding. Finish your Coke and we'll go." I'd never had diet Coke before. It was kind of nasty, but I needed something carbonated that wasn't alcoholic. We headed for the door and Leslie and Nick said a few quick words to each other as I stood there feeling about 98% of my normal self. "Ready?" "Yeah. Can you just walk me to my car? I appreciate the concern, but I'm fine." "We had a deal. Don't go back on your word now." I was in a spot...I didn't want this guy mad at me, but walking around the block seemed pretty pointless. "OK. You have a flashlight? It doesn't look like most of your streetlamps are working." "Already got it. Let's walk, Jeffy." We headed in the opposite direction of my car like two dumb characters in a horror movie -- where the whole audience is yelling "Don't go!". It was strangely thrilling. I felt adrenaline chase the remaining alcohol out of my system. "Why doesn't the city fix some of the lights?" "We're low on the list. There are pot holes around here that are two years old." We went around the corner where it was darker still. "Hold on a second." He bent down and kissed me on the mouth. I responding by kissing back. Then it was over. Just like that. "That was nice. Think you'd ever go out with someone like me." "I know I would." "Cool." "Can we go back to the bar? This street is completely dark." "It's okay. I'll turn the flashlight on." He fumbled around with it started flashing like a disco. "Shit. Wrong button." "Why does it have a strobe?" "It's a signal for emergencies and stuff." I guess he wasn't able to find the normal light because we were walking again into total darkness. Headlights caught us from about fifteen yards away. As the vehicle slowly approached, Nick grabbed my wrist painfully hard. "Your ride is here."
  12. 1990 Was it really almost thirty years ago? How did so much time go by without my consent? It was a great time to be young and starting a new life in a new city. I got a job as a copywriter for a struggling ad agency that didn't pay all that great. I didn't mind because anything was better than being a poor college kid. I moved into a very old apartment building near the middle of the city. The whole area had high hopes to become "quaint", but it didn't seem to be working very well. The rent on my studio apartment was the same as what I'd paid for the student slum I'd just moved out of. It was on a rounded corner of the building which made my place curved and unique. It was noisy and very gay. This neighborhood had become a 'safe place' for low-income misfits. Young people with crappy jobs and alternative lives congregated here. My 'gaydar' had never quite worked which caused me to always get interested in guys that were batting for the other team. I ended up jerking off a lot. So be it. It didn't take long for me to join up with a ragtag crew of gay men who lived in my building. We'd all meet up at a park around the corner to gossip, drink and smoke. The park was actually quite beautiful for this area. It had an old iron archway at the entrance. There was no playground equipment or sandboxes because no families ever came here. We'd just take over a pair of picnic tables and hang out till all hours, passing bottles of whatever. This happened every single night, but I missed a lot of gatherings because there were TV shows I was addicted to and I hadn't yet splurged on a VCR. Twin Peaks was my number one favorite show back then. I'd sit and not take my eyes off my little 19" screen in, even if it was a repeat. I kind of hated missing out on the gatherings because this group loved to talk shit about whoever wasn't there. Vicious appraisals and rumors would fire them all up and I always wondered what was said about me. The de facto leader of the club was my next door neighbor, Kurt. He was pleasant to everyone but there were daggers hidden in his smile. There was a period of time when Kurt decided we should all have nicknames. Mine was 'Puppy Dog' - which I guess is better than other things I could have been called. That didn't last long because we kept mixing them up after the drinking had gotten underway. Let me editorialize here for a minute. I'm almost 52 now and the gay community has made so much progress in this country, but we still tear each other down on a personal level. Why? Weren't we all whispered about, laughed at and bullied when we were younger? Didn't we hate being called "fag", "homo", and "sissy"? It needs to end. We're all on the same side after all. A guy named Gene got it the worst. I'd seen him once or twice, but never actually met him. He worked for a sanitation company and, according to the group, smelled pretty rank all the time. He first encountered their scorn by using the park to cruise for blow jobs. It was a pretty large park with many trees and I had no idea what happened in the far shadows. Kurt had made it an unspoken rule that there was to be no sex within our club. He also didn't want a bunch of random horny men lurking about. Gene was also called "demented"."retarded" and "criminal". Everybody seemed to have a personal anecdote about Gene. "I was in the elevator with him once and almost passed out from the smell.","I saw him looking almost clean once like he'd showered and washed his hair, but the smell was still there. He can probably never get rid of it.", "Why does he come here at 3 in the morning, looking to get his dick sucked? No sane person would put their mouth on him.", "I was once trapped in a conversation with him and I couldn't make any sense of what he was saying." I didn't belong with this group. Poor Gene. I was stupid enough to try to defend him. "Garbage Men make a pretty good salary. They're Union." Kurt looked wounded. "Who cares? He obviously doesn't spend a dime on soap. You know what you say when you see him? You say 'Hi, Gene' ...you know like 'hygiene'. It's getting to be an old joke but it's still funny every time." Was it funny? Not in my opinion. Every time we saw a figure in the distance, the crowd would yell "Hi, Gene!!" Stupid. I decided right then to make this gathering an infrequent event for me. Kurt trapped me in the hallway and asked why I'd been so scarce. "I took on some freelance work and it keeps me very busy." I didn't sell the excuse very well and he started looking at me differently. Judging. I didn't want to give him any new ammunition to use against me so I stayed civil when I made small talk with him. I was really loving k.d. lang at the time, but I never played music very loud in case he tried to use that against me. Ultimately, I decided I didn't care anymore. It took me 22 years, but I finally started to not give a shit what other people said about me. I blasted my music after that. Apartment-dwellers know that you have to pick a really good time to do your laundry....not a peak hours. I usually did mine early on Saturday mornings when the rest of the building was sleeping off whatever they'd done the night before. That Spring I developed some severe insomnia. I was wide awake and staring at the ceiling one Sunday morning before the sun was even up. I decided to just go ahead and do a load of whites. I had a pocket full of quarters and a new book I'd started...I might even do two loads if sleep never came. Of course the laundry room was in a depressing basement. Most laundry places were glum. I started getting to the task at hand. 75 cents to wash and 50 cents to dry. I stayed there and read my book undisturbed. Say what you will about this chore but I always liked the smell of soap and fabric softener -- it was a fresh, hopeful scent. Right after I'd loaded the dryer, I saw him. Gene. He seemed like he was sleepwalking or on drugs or something. He looked dazed. Was he just now coming home? Or going out? I just gave him a smile and went back to my book. I wasn't about to say "Hi, Gene" because of those guys in the park. It seemed my smile was all he needed to walk right up to where I was sitting and say "Don't you sleep?" "Hi. Yeah. Lately, I've had trouble staying asleep, though. Thought I'd get this done since I was wide awake." How to describe Gene physically? It's not easy to penetrate that aura of weirdness to really see him. He was about 6'2" with a fairly average build...maybe a little underweight. Around my age. His jet black hair looked like he had cut himself. He did seem a little unclean, but whatever odor he had was masked by the laundry detergent smells. "I'm Troy. I moved in here a few months ago." "I'm Gene -- which is short for 'Genius'." Was he kidding around? His expression didn't tell me. "I've seen you around. You're on the seventh floor, right?" "Yeah. On the rounded side." "That's nice. Know anything about giant squid?" Huh? He might actually be crazy. "No. Not much." "He sat next to me. I smelled something a little foul but it wasn't so terrible. I grew up on a farm and had smelled far worse things. "Why do you ask?" "They can kill you. They shoot this thick cloud of ink out of their bodies and it's heavy and sticky." I didn't think that was true, but I just nodded. "Can you imagine? You're underwater and one of those fuckers releases that stuff all over you. You're glued to a rock or a reef and you can't breathe....so you die." "Wow." When would my stuff be dry? I didn't care if it was damp or not -- I was going to get away from this guy. "So you know that Kurt guy, right?" "I know him, but we're not friends." "He's out to ruin me for some reason. I never did anything to him or any of the park gang. Don't bother me none." "He's a viper in a ballerina costume." That made him laugh. He may have been a little unkempt but he had an honest smile -- perfect, white teeth. "What do you do, Travis?" "It's 'Troy'. I'm a writer. I work for an ad agency downtown." "Wow. You look like you're 15...and already a 9-5 professional? Impressive. I work for Duffy Sanitation. I only work 30 hours a week, but the pay is good. I am saving up enough to get the hell out of this place...maybe go take some college courses. I like to write too. I'm working on a book when I have time. Maybe you can help me with it." "Fiction? Like a novel?" "Yeah. There's a giant killer squid in the chapter I just started." OK. This was interesting now. I fed more quarters into the dryer. "Well -- I don't think squid shoot ink that traps people. I've read about them and they use the ink to get away from predators. It just clouds the water so they can escape." "Not in my story. It kills divers." He wasn't crazy -- just a writer. Same difference. "What are you doing up so early, Gene?" "Just stuff. I like to walk very late at night and see what's up in the park." "Is there ever anything 'up' at this hour?" I held my cards close to the vest. Nobody goes off by themselves to a park at this hour. "Sometimes. It's a pretty big park and the huge Cottonwood trees at the far West end and they hide some interesting people." I guess Kurt got some things right about him. "Isn't that dangerous?" "It can be. You should go with me some time." Oh hell -- Kurt and his posse would have a collective heart attack if they saw Gene and I cruising the park together. "Sure, but I usually don't stay up this late or early. I've just had trouble sleeping lately." "Try smoking hash. That'll solve it." He had to be kidding, right? I could never even handle regular pot. It made me nervous and helpless. "Nah. I'll probably call my doctor and try to get some Valium or something." "Just don't get addicted. I smoke hash almost every day before work. It's not like the day goes faster or anything -- it's just that it gets new and interesting. It's loud work and most of the guys wear ear plugs but not me. The noise is amazing when you're high. I can feel it in my dick even." I'd known some people in college who could function perfectly fine when they were on drugs, but I'm pretty sure I'd never be one of them. "Wow. They don't drug test you guys?" "Just the drivers. I think your clothes are dry by now...it's been over an hour." He was right. They were most likely baked to a crisp already. I took everything out of the dryer, folded the t-shirts and paired the socks. I did it mainly because I knew that if I left now, this bizarre conversation would end. I also wasn't even close to being sleepy. Gene watched me and kept talking. "Remember when you were just starting school and the teacher would tell the class to put their thinking caps' on? All the kids pretended to put on hats but I never did. I also never said 'God' when they made us say the pledge of allegiance." I would have liked to have known him as a kid. We might have been best friends. "I never took the words of that pledge to heart -- it was all just automatic parroting. Same with The Lord's Prayer. I had no clue what any of it meant." I was done and Gene grabbed my basket to carry it for me. "Oh, you don't have to..." "It's okay. I got it." Well, I guess he was going to follow me to my door. Would he want to come in? "Thanks. So you don't work on Sundays?" His aroma was a little more intimate inside the elevator. Either I'd gotten used to it or he didn't smell that bad. "Nope. Saturdays neither. We won't run into your neighbor, will we?" "I doubt it. He's never awake before noon or so. Don't worry." "I'm not worried for my sake...for his. I'll kick his ass and he knows it. I already know why he hates me." "Why?" "Long story. I need a beer first...got any?" We'd arrived at my floor. "No. I have a bottle of wine that somebody gave me when I graduated. I don't know if it's any good." "Yuck. No thanks. Put your clothes away and we'll go back to my place. I buy the good of beer." Well...why the hell not? I was curious if nothing else. Once inside, Gene complimented me on every single thing that caught his eye. My lamp, futon, candles, the neatness... "It's smaller than my apartment, but you've made really good use of the space." I thanked him and began putting my clean clothes away. He went on to study my collection of tapes. "Bonnie Raitt, Blondie, Lindsay Buckingham, Nirvana...you've got great taste. Never heard of k.d. lang before. Is it a she or a he? Country?" He picked it up and tucked in his back pocket. "We'll listen to this when we get back to my place." His hand was groping his crotch but I didn't read anything into it. Guys just do that sometimes instinctively. I did it even when I had no sexual thoughts at all. "OK. I'm done. Ready to go?" We left and I saw Kurt's closed door. He would flat out shit himself if he saw me leaving my apartment with Gene. I almost wanted him to be awake and see this. "I'm on 3. I don't have a nice view like you do, but I get to see the sun rise every day. You ever write poetry?" "No. Well...sort of. I've written slogans -- which sometimes rhyme. So why do you and Kurt hate each other?" He looked down at me and shook his head. "Not yet. I'll tell you everything after I have a beer in my hand." Ding. We arrived and I didn't even take one second to think what I might be about to see. He opened the door and I was expecting anything but what I saw. It was normal. Plain. He had a really nice stereo system and some assorted furniture that didn't look showroom new but not dingy. I sometimes saw random old chairs and sofas on the curb. I'm fairly certain he didn't get any of his stuff from the street. Yes, the smell couldn't be called "pleasant", but it was not horrible either. I thought of a friend of mine who'd worked a year in a candle store. She and everything she owned smelled like candles. I guess you couldn't help but bring odors from your job home with you. "That looks like an expensive stereo, Gene." "JVC. It's not all that fancy." He took out the k.d. lang tape out of his pocket and put it in. "Rewind it so we can listen to all of it." I noticed there was no dust anywhere. I'd left the tape at the end of my favorite song "Diet of Strange Places". I rewound it just a little so he could hear what I considered to be one of the best songs I'd ever heard. I'd never played this for anyone Starving, I've got this hunger/ Growling from deep within By the time I turned around, Gene had taken off his shoes and socks. He was sitting on the couch and stretching his legs. "Wow. It's a woman. She's got an excellent voice. How'd you find her? She'd been on TV several times, but I couldn't even answer before Gene went to the kitchen to get the beers. I guess he really really wanted one. "Can you play that song again?" "Let's listen to the rest of this side and then I'll rewind it." He arched an eyebrow as if I was challenging him. "Sure, Troy. Are you all comfortable there on the floor?" I actually was. "Yeah. This is good beer." It was. "It's imported." He suddenly got up and sat down on the carpet next to me, mimicking my way of sitting. "Don't sip that like it's one of your wines. You take good healthy swallows of beer. It's not like you have to get up for work today." I am an amateur when it comes to drinking. Well, OK. He'd already finished his. I chugged and handed him the empty bottle. The lack of sleep and the fast beer seemed to make me feel completely content. "Okay, Gene. Now tell me why you and Kurt have this feud." He sighed. "I'll start by saying we know each other already." Another sigh. "He and I moved in here at about the same time. We were pleasant to each other at first. I started checking out the park after a week and kept seeing him there...not at the picnic tables. He was cruising the shadows just like me. You won't believe this but I saw him get fucked by strangers. He knew how cute he was and used it to get so much dick up his little ass." I was blown away by these revelations. "Um. Did you and he...?" "Yes. Twice." "With a condom?" "There are no condoms in a park at 2 in the morning. I've gone through periods of time when I liked fucking...on both ends. But it's so much easier to just get your dick sucked. You shoot a load either way." "Wow. So he hates you for doing that with him?" "That's not all." He was deflated by the confession, but went and got us two more beers. I had so much to think about. Too much. This beer was so good. "He hates me for knowing something else." "Give me a second to have some more swallows." I was bordering a state of shock. Sleep would just not be possible for now. He was watching my face for any trace of what I was thinking. The tape turned over automatically. I finished half the beer before he continued. "I know he was HIV. I only know because we run into each other at the free health clinic on Poplar sometimes. I've got it too, by the way. What are you thinking right now?" I had no idea what to say. I'd just wing it for now. "I guess I have to say that I'm sorry." "For what?" "That you have the virus...and also that you haunt the damn park for sex when you're good-looking and smart enough to just date like regular people." He arched his eyebrow again. Maybe I'd said the wrong thing. Beer. "You think I'm 'good looking'? For real?" "Yeah. And tall and honest and.... Just go get a decent haircut. I'll take you to the place I go." He flashed that dazzling smile again and I felt the floor disappear from beneath me. "Look....the sun is coming up. It's never the same but always perfect." I turned my head to watch. He was right -- perfect. Pink and lavender were meeting up in such a beautiful way that words couldn't possibly tell you how perfect it was. I turned back to thank him for pointing it out to me but we weren't eye-level anymore. Gene was standing. He was rubbing his crotch again, but this was intentional. His eyes were so brown that they were almost looked black. I touched his bare ankle. I was developing some feelings for Gene. And now? I'd be passive and wait. He was the host. "Remember me telling you what I liked the most?" Of course I did. He unbuttoned the fly of his jeans and let a bare naked dick jut out into the air. It bounced even. I was still on the floor at his feet. "Do you think you'd like to help me out? It's not entirely safe, but I won't cum in your mouth...that should be okay." I let my hands wander up and down his legs. They were harder and more developed than I would have guessed. He did physical work after all...not to mention all his park walking. I figured my hands were answering for me. Yes. I wanted to give him the best blow job he'd ever had from a beginner. I knew what I felt like doing but wasn't sure it would be enough. The penis wasn't huge or anything, but it was so straight and so hard -- he could punch a hole in the wall with that thing. I'd have to move myself up on my knees a little higher. His hidden virus didn't once enter my thoughts. I put my lips on the plum-colored head. His gasp was one of absolute pleasure. "Yeah...go slow. Take your time." I could've listened, but my hunger for his beautiful organ was bordering on insane at this moment. I did what I could to take the whole thing. "Shit! I didn't expect you to make me feel so good. Keep it up and I'll shoot down your throat in about ten seconds." I redoubled my effort and, sure enough, he tensed up with a load ready to release. "Fuck, man!" He let a few heavy spurts loose on my tongue. Semen. HIV semen. I could do this every day. I pulled away and tried to recognize myself and where I was. I took some deep breaths and stood up...a little unsteady. "How'd I do?" "You earned first prize. Let's go to my bedroom and relax. Need another beer?" I had barely touched the last one he'd brought me so I said 'no'. k.d. was still singing and I heard new things. I was also loving the taste in my mouth. "Nah. I'm fine." "Leave the beer and let's go to bed." "Lead the way." His bedroom was pretty nice....the smell lingered, but I thought it was sexy now. I'd buy him some nice candles from a fancy store. "Get out of those clothes and get comfy." I was amazed at how calmly I did as told. His bed was super comfortable. He was fishing around in his nightstand. I almost asked him what he was doing but was too mesmerized by the sight of his nice bare ass. I could hear the music coming through the wall. He found his hash pipe or pot pipe or whatever it was. "You can have exactly two hits. It's not hash -- just really good weed. I'm afraid of letting you escape into your private thoughts. Infection from oral sex is pretty rare...so don't get wrapped up in regret just now." I was still rock hard and my boner didn't seem to care that it was so obvious and visible. Sex was unfair that way. Both partners should cum at the same time, every time. I felt kind of ridiculous. Gene was doing his weed thing and trying to light it. I wasn't real excited about this, but the smell was nice and exotic. He passed it to me and I made a good amateur effort to inhale it the correct way. How soon would this start working? My lungs absorbed the smoke. I suddenly didn't want a second hit...I was not a 'pot person' and likely never would be. Lets just see how it went. Nothing so far...except the music crept in and got louder. It's almost as if the stereo was right there in the room. You're drivin' me crazy/ Hey now, baby,please "I'm going to buy a CD player next week. This will be the first disc I get." He took a few more puffs of the magic herb while I just looked at his nude body. "You've got really nice legs, Gene." "Yeah? I don't have a sit-down job like you do. Manual labor is better than going to the gym. Damn, Troy....you have an intense erection. Horny? I'm flattered." It seemed wise not to say anything right now. He was fingering his balls and working himself up into an emerging boner. "Give me a minute to rest and we'll do each other again. Whatever you want. I didn't mean to be so selfish earlier...I just really love getting blown. I can blow you next or you can do me again. Take a minute to think. Really think. I don't want to hurt...." His words turned into scribbles as he talked. I was just happy to be near his warm, feverish body. My instinct was to kiss his mouth like we were in a romantic movie. I ignored the bizarre dreams waiting for me. My Gene. I decided I wanted him to fuck me,bust my cherry. HIV never figured into the decision. I wanted him to shoot a load inside of me even though I'd never been fucked down there. How bad could it be? Gay men did this. He needed to relax and build up another load. I waited. "So?..." He knew how to read me, so why didn't he just take charge??" "I want you to fuck me, Gene. Like we're on our honeymoon." "I was afraid I'd get you to this point. Shit. I have a dirty cock and no rubbers. I want to fuck your ass so much, but it's just too dangerous." He was high, but still reluctant to do the wrong thing. You have to admire that ethic. And I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to have some bare, raw sex with him. But I was going with the mood. It was already mid-morning, and the sun was snaking itself through the blinds. I was just really wanting my cherry to be popped by the wonderful dick which belonged to this wonderful guy. Viruses were a random thing...and so was mortality. None of us were guaranteed a long life. Despite all our fatal thoughts, Gene's cock was standing up straight like a soldier. My own boner had never gone away. "Let's follow through with what would happen eventually." "You sure? Put your thinking cap on, Troy." "I never take it off." "OK. No going back from here." He was stroking his meat faster and harder. It made a wet sound even though there was no lube involved. He leaked a lot of pre-cum which impressed me. How bad could this be? "Once I start, I don't stop. You're about to get a powerful fuck that will change you forever." He may have been trying to warn me, but all it was doing was making me hotter. "Yeah. It's going to happen eventually. I'd rather it be with you than with some stranger. Know what I mean?" He was thinking. "OK. You aren't too stoned to consent to this, right?" "Weirdly, no. I have a history of freaking out when I smoke, but I'm fine. I feel very clear." "It's good stuff. Very kind to the system." He had worked himself up into another impressive hard-on. I still couldn't get over how straight and steel-like it looked. "You have the most perfect dick I've ever seen, dude...not that I've seen any besides in magazines. But still..." "Thanks, Troy. Yours is nice and healthy-sized too. You'll fuck me one day, right?" "ANY time." That made him even hotter. "I don't have any lube. I wasn't expecting company tonight. I have Crisco in the kitchen...lemme go go grease my stuff up. Be right back...." He left me alone with k.d. lang's perfect voice still serenading me in the morning light. This lonely achin' heart of mine/ That now, folks, feels sublime Gene returned with his proud boner all shiny and perfect. I wanted that tool to take my virginity, but more importantly, I wanted this man to take it and be my first. His disease didn't factor in at all. I wanted this. I wanted HIM. "Move on down to the end of the end of the bed. Stay on your back so I can look at you and see if you're in too much pain. I really, really don't want to hurt you." "I'll be okay, Gene. This is for you too." I wished he'd fall in love with me and want to fuck every night...even though I'd never done this before. It must feel good if the whole world was doing it. "Ready? No turning back once I get inside you. I'll try to pull out before I cum, but I don't have a real good track record in that department. " I searched my brain for hesitation but didn't find any. "I'm ready." It was awkward getting adjusted, but he'd done this before so I just cooperated. It was almost like doing a reverse sit-up...with some help. His dick felt even larger than it looked, especially as it tried to find my little opening. He found it and a wave of pure pleasure washed over his face. Glorious anticipation. Then he was making a concentrated to poke his way in. I didn't expect the pain -- it felt like a cruel violation. "Too much?" "No. I mean -- please go slow." "OK. This is the worst part. It'll feel better pretty soon. Hold on." I took him literally and reached around to grab his butt with both hands. He moaned and that made me open up a little more. His hard rod inched forward and the pain was still pretty intense, but not any worse. In about six seconds, something inside of me down there ached in the most awesome way. Prostate. He must have known it after I let loose a sigh of satisfaction. "Found it!" I ejaculated right as he said that. No wonder gay guys were dying from this act -- it was worth dying for. Then he fell into a rhythm of going in and out, in and out. I was in ecstasy, plain and simple. He sped his pace up and I felt his butt cheeks clench and relax over and over again. He had his eyes closed. "I'm getting ready...I'm going to...hold on..." I really didn't want him to pull out. I wanted him to have his moment just as I had. "FUCK!" He tensed and then collapsed on top of me. His weight was delicious. "Wow. Thank you, Gene." "I came inside of you. Shit, I'm sorry. It just felt so good." "Don't be sorry. I wanted you to." "I guess I kinda knew that. I'm grateful, but a little scared for you." Gene and I ended up as a 'couple'. We fucked constantly and talked about moving in together. Kurt's little group broke up as guys moved or got tired of his bullshit. Gene kept dragging me along to with him to the clinic and I finally tested positive the week before Easter. He still craved sex with strangers from the park, and I went with him sometimes. It was kind of thrilling to watch him spread his seed. He always came home to me...my garbageman, my first and last love.
  13. 1994 I had stayed a virgin all through college, but that quickly changed as soon as I graduated. I moved to a city with such a visible gay community that I couldn't help but find my way 'over the rainbow'. It was welcoming, warm and usually smelled like alcohol and cigarettes. Also dangerous. It was the Midwest, and the AIDS epidemic had finally made its way here in a major way. A bath house I'd never even gotten a chance to go to was now closed. Adult bookstores disappeared, but gay bars seemed to multiply. Looking back now, I 'd guess there had been twenty of them located in this mid-sized city It was in one of them that I met Benjamin. He knew everybody and had scored us so many free shots that night. He was Cuban and darkly attractive. He was older than me -- by a lot. He'd lied about his age from the beginning. We parted ways that night after exchanging phone numbers. We fucked the night of our first date. He was experienced and couldn't believe I made him wear a condom. He told me he was clean, but I was insistent about safety. I had a new life and a new career, and didn't want to get deathly sick. Benjamin lived farther out from the city...somewhere in a hick-infested neighborhood. Our second date was at his modest house. It seemed nice and decorated like his grandma had picked out all the colors, furniture and little touches here and there. He had a son living with him who was a ridiculously handsome teen (he was actually 22 at the time). Ben claimed he had gotten married at the age of fifteen and I believed him for minute or two. He was a liar and that didn't bode well for us as a couple. He drank gin and tonic, which I'd never tried. It was a fine drink that I grew to love a little too much. This relationship had an expiration date, but I seemed to be the only one who knew it. He introduced me to tons of people...especially at the ratty little tavern near his house. That's where I was introduced to Stan. Stan was Benjamin's hairdresser. He was maybe 30 or a little older. Tall, blonde, lean and a major fashion victim. I hadn't been much interested in what styles trendy. I won't say that Stan was handsome, but there was something appealing about him. He fully owned being gay and I was still learning the ropes. I guess he had a lover and it was news to Ben. "You finally settled down?! Are you being faithful?" "Most of the time." I guess this Stan guy wasn't keeping up with the news. Being afraid of AIDS was a full-time preoccupation for me. "Does he know?" "Oh yeah. He has boys on the side too. It's how we both got the same diseases." THAT's what his appeal was. He was out there enjoying sex and satisfying his inner slut. Nobody lives forever and he was going to get full use of his youth while I was biding my time with Benjamin and being scared of all the consequences of 'having fun'. Stan flitted away among the sparse crowd while Ben and I played darts. For whatever reason, darts were a big thing among the gays in this city. They had leagues and everything. I didn't get it. It was not that much fun to play even when you'd had some drinks in you. But it was a better option than just sitting and trying to have a conversation with my boyfriend. We had almost nothing in common other than being gay. "So he cuts your hair?" "Every month. He's very, very good, but a little expensive. You should let him cut your hair." It drove Ben crazy that I gave no shits about my hair. I normally went to Super Cuts and paid six bucks. It's not like I had a complicated head of hair or anything. "OK. I'll go the next time you go." I surprised both of us by agreeing to go spend forty bucks on a haircut. It seemed to put him in a good mood. He scheduled us for back-to-back appointments with him a week later. I agreed mainly because I wanted to see Stan again. Why? I think you can guess. The salon was much nicer than what I was used to. It even had a 'skin care technician' who wore a white lab coat. Half of the hairdressers there were gay dudes. Ben went first while I sat and looked at one of those big fashion magazines with thick,glossy paper and about fifty cologne samples. The thing was 60% advertising and every page made me feel more and more like the hayseed I was. I didn't belong here. My clothes were mostly from J.C. Penney's and the last person to cut my hair was a homely pregnant chick with a ton of regrettable tattoos and no wedding ring. When it was finally my turn, Benjamin and Stan came out to get me just as I had started thinking of ways to escape. "Ready?" "Let's go." I was led back to the shampoo area which Super Cuts didn't have. Stan said, "Relax and let Janet take care of you while I take a smoke break." Janet was a beautiful young gal who was gentle as she steadied my head at the lip of the sink. The shampoo smelled expensive and she took her time lathering and rinsing. It was wonderful to be pampered like this and I was wishing she'd never stop massaging my scalp. But Stan was back and ready for me. He was dressed very fashionably - with more than a hint of gay slut. Where do you even get clothes like that? "What are you wanting today?" "Something basic. I work in a pretty conservative place and don't want to upset anybody." "I can do conservative -- with an edge. You OK with that?" Was I? I had no idea. I remember being 9 or ten years old and telling my mom that I wanted to be a punk rocker when I grew up. Or a chef. I was undecided at that point. I just nodded and prepared for whatever. I kinda hated facing that big mirror they have at every hair-cutting place. My natural expression had developed into a frown over the years. Sometimes it looked like a scowl. I watched Stan as he maneuvered around me with his comb and scissors. I thought about what he looked like naked, got lost in some fantasies where I was sucking his dick. "How's your boyfriend?" "What? Who?" "When we met a few weeks ago you told Benjamin and I about this guy you were with." "Oh, right. Him. We broke up already. He needed money so he volunteered for a clinical medication study and it fucked him up." "Medication for what?" I could have guessed, but would they really test an AIDS drug here? "H.I.V. There's promising stuff coming - maybe even a cure. He was willing to take a chance that he wouldn't get the placebo. He got his wish, but it damn near killed him. The pills fucked with his heart and he ended up in the hospital. He might still be there for all I know." "I'm sorry." "How are things with you and Ben?" "The same." "That didn't sound very enthusiastic." He had a grin that the devil himself would be proud of. "No. It's just that he wants me to move in with him, and we've only been dating for a few months." I said too much. He and Benjamin were friends and he'd likely tell on me. I couldn't exactly backtrack now. "He's the marrying type. I never have been. I suppose it would be nice, but I've got a wandering eye...always looking for the next fuck." "Yeah. At least you know what your path is. I'm new. I'm 24 and want to see what's out there before I commit." Again...too much info. "Well don't settle down with him. He's a nice guy but very needy. He's old, too." "He's not. He's only 34, right?" "Yeah...if that's code for '45'. He's only three years older than me." I knew it. "..." "He does this all the time. He lies about his age and tries to get cute young guys with a job to move in and help him pay the mortgage on that dumpy house. He might have a good heart, but he is not to be trusted. You're a kid -- go have some fun." He looked into my mirror eyes and winked. "..." I just had no words. "Leave me your phone number and I'll fix you up with some guys around your age." Well, at least I had some dirt on him in case he ever tried to rat me out to Ben. I sensed he wouldn't. I wrote my number on a slip of random paper while he briefly lifted the scissors away from my head. When he was done blow-drying me and applying gel, I thought I looked great. I had a little 'edge' as he'd promised...but it was within my comfort zone. "Perfect!" It was maybe a week later that I finally let go of Benjamin. I retreated back to my apartment in the city and let my answering machine screen all incoming calls. He finally gave up and was probably out scouting for another sucker this very minute. I didn't go right out and enjoy a bunch of sex which I'd planned to do. I was happy being alone and isolated. Books, movies and music were more important to me than bars and dicks. Stan had never called me, and so I went back to Super Cuts which did a good enough job for me. Things were going great for months. And then the phone rang. "Hello?" "What's up?" The voice was familiar somehow. "Hi! How are things?" I still wasn't sure who I was talking to. "Oh, it's been a total mess. I'm not at the salon anymore...it got way too dramatic there." It was Stan. OK. "My mama died and left me her house. I work from there now. The only clients that followed me here were a bunch of old ladies who always liked me for whatever reason. They've been dropping like flies since Christmas and I'm trying to build up a bigger client base." That's why he was calling. He didn't want to do anything gay with me. He wanted a paying customer. "Did Benjamin follow you too?" "Oh...you didn't know? He moved to Florida with some new guy he found." Good for him. I never wished him harm - I only wished I hadn't wasted so much time with him. "I'll give you a deep discount on your first visit." That sounded sexual. I guess he knew he had his charms. "OK. I had a haircut not long ago, but I'll drop by in a month. How's that?" "Good. I work noon to six every day except Monday. I've got another side business going so just call and leave me a message when you want an appointment." He gave me his address and phone number which I put on my fridge with a little round magnet. I was glad he called but can't say exactly why. I was going through a phase where I liked bigger, beefier, harrier men. I talked to a few of them at bars now and then but never made a connection. If they didn't have lady voices, they had awful grammar -- which was something that bugged the shit out of me. My ideal was impossible to find, but I still had hands and a VCR...so I was fine with being celibate and single. I remember my older brother telling me all about sex. He was a big jock stud who always had a girlfriend. He was pissed that Mom had found one of his adult magazines in my room. She wanted to know where I got it, and I just told the truth. We were both in trouble. "You're not old enough for this, dude. Cool it. You've got the rest of your life to have sex. Look around...every adult likes to fuck. Mom and Dad do it, your teachers do it, every adult you see at the grocery store does it. Guys AND girls. Don't get ahead of yourself now." Stan's house was in a very odd neighborhood I'd never been to before. The houses looked fairly normal when I turned left on 65th Terrace but then you started seeing weird dwellings. Tiny houses painted in garish colors. Some of them looked like they were meant to be something else in another part of town. I found Stan's address and pulled into the driveway. Wow. I guess his new side business was 'junk dealer'. The front of the house looked like a duplicate of Fred Sanford's place. The yard was full of hubcaps, assorted car parts and panes of glass. Everything was coated with layers of dirt and/or rust. It wasn't sad so much as interesting. My dad once took me to a junkyard just because I'd never seen one. I was fascinated to the point where I was rendered completely mute. Dad let me wander around and look at all the wrecked cars, old appliances and all the various pieces of someone's discarded life. My favorite thing was an actual staircase from somebody's house. It was just there, leading to nowhere. I'd been told not to touch anything, but I couldn't help but climb a few steps. If we had this in the backyard, I could invent about a million games and fantasies built around the stairs. I lived almost totally in fantasy world back then. Dad found me and was mad when he saw me on it. He hustled me back to his car and I never found out what that staircase led to. As soon as I knocked on the door (doorbell was broken) about a thousand barks erupted from inside. Dogs. Junkyard dogs, probably. "Come on in," Stan called from inside. The door was unlocked. The second I got in, five or six little mutts of various colors jumped all over my legs. "Have a seat while I finish with Margaret." There weren't many places to sit. Just one spot on the couch. The minute I took a seat, all those little dogs competed for my attention. One of them smelled pretty bad and needed a bath in the worst way. I could see him in the kitchen, drying the hair of some ancient woman who had her eyes closed like she was dead. I didn't to stare. The coffee table in front of me was littered with ashtrays, cords, remote controls and random things. There was an ancient paperback book that looked intriguing. "Alfred Hitchcock Presents - Short Story Collection". It was autographed!! I wanted this. I'd have him add it to my bill. A horn honked from outside that set the dogs off again. "Oh, that's my cab," the old woman said. She was alive. "Let me just give you some spray and then I'll help you out." Stan helped Margaret to the door and told the dogs to stay back. I'm guessing they knew already not to hassle old ladies. He closed the door and said, "Goddamn. I'm tired. You're my last appointment, but I need a little rest first." He plopped down on the couch next to me. There wasn't much room so he was sitting so close to me that our legs and shoulders touched. "I need a cigarette. Want one?" I didn't even answer before he'd already lit one and handed it to me. I guess smoking was a lot like drinking...people liked it better when they weren't the only ones doing it. "So. Are you in the...'antique' business now?" "Sort of...I mostly do flea markets these days. I've done them in Iowa, Nebraska, Kansas...nearby states." He had a Southern drawl even though he was from Missouri. Was that considered 'The South'? Maybe he'd just adopted that accent to seduce men. Or maybe he was like me and had done everything possible to masculine enough to pass scrutiny from friends and family. "It ain't so bad. It's my main income now." Ugh. I hate when people say 'ain't'. I've walked away from potential hook-ups at bars if they used that word. Stan seemed to have adopted a more casual fashion sense. He was wearing sweatpants, flip-flops, a t-shirt and a backwards baseball cap. I guess he was off his fashion game for whatever reason. "I was looking at this Alfred Hitchcock book. Can I buy it from you?" "Oh yeah. Shit. I don't even remember where I got that -- from a yard sale probably." "How much?" "Three bucks." "Sold!" "We'll settle up later. Let's go to the kitchen and get started now." We both stubbed out our smokes and stood up. I watched him walk in front of me and noticed he'd put on some weight since the last time I saw him. The sweatpants shaped his butt nicely and it was easy to see that he wasn't wearing underwear. Margaret may not have noticed, but I sure as hell did. I thought he was looked hotter in casual clothes than he did all spiffy and fashionable. He'd even stopped dying his hair and you could see that it was actually dark brown with a patch of gray here and there. His kitchen was chaos, but not filthy. He sat me down and shampooed me over a little mini-sink. During the process, his groin brushed my arm for a brief second. I felt the chunk of meat under his sweats. Damn! I was impressed. At this point, I wasn't thinking he had done it on purpose. Once he put a towel around my neck and draped me with one of those smock things, I could look right at him in the mirror without giving myself away. He'd was heftier and had some definition in his chest. "Have you been working out?" Find me one gay man who doesn't love being asked that question. "Naw. I just get more physical activity in the new business. You know...lifting, loading.... unloading." I was almost ready to think he was flirting a little. Almost. Hmm. I'd test the waters. "Well, you look very fit." "Thanks. How do you want it? I don't remember how I did it back when I first cut your hair." "Conservative with an edge." "Oh right. Gotcha." I sometimes like to just close my eyes when I'm having a haircut, possibly snooze. Not today. I wanted to watch him and look. His crotch touched my shoulder and the back of my neck a few more times. I could swear his dick was growing each time, but his eyes gave nothing away. Stan was concentrating on the job at hand. I didn't want to push it just now while he was using scissors on my hair. He had to be doing it purpose, right? Maybe he was just trying to get a bigger tip out of me. I'd fell for that scam with bartenders before. Well...if that was the case, I'd go ahead and flirt back. "You seeing anyone, Stan?" "Not so much. I keep busy and just feel so old when I go to the clubs. They're all kids like you, and they don't want some old junk man." "I bet that's not true. I'm not even thirty yet and they look like children to me too." "Well, have fun while you can. You need to get as much cock as you can while guys still want to offer you one." He seemed like he was almost done with the scissors. So I adjusted myself back in the chair so that his groin was right up against the back of my head. He was fully erect. I could feel it. Once again, his eyes gave nothing away. I'd have to work for this. He was putting some mousse on my hair and combing it. When his crotch touched my hand, I just reached and grabbed the head of his dick through the sweatpants. I had notched up the flirting to a new level. Risking everything. "Well, FINALLY! You could have done that while we were sitting on the couch, but no....you made me do most of the work." I continued to hold his hard-on. "I didn't know for sure. I tend to hesitate with things." "I guess it's wise to be careful. I never was. Oh yeah. Squeeze that dick exactly like you're doing." I did. I made an attempt to tug down his pants. "Wait a minute while I sweep up the hair and feed the dogs. My bedroom is right off to the left of that doorway. It's kind of a mess, but there's a TV in there and you can switch it to whatever you want." I went into the dark room where the TV was already on. The room was indeed a mess, but at least the bed was made. It smelled like cigarette smoke and cologne. I had to give Stan some credit, though. I'd gone home with a few guys who lived in crap-hole apartments but their bedrooms were always neat and the lights were low and strategically placed. This told me they'd already planned to bring somebody over for sex. One dude had even left an unattended scented candle burning. Stan wasn't planning this...at least I don't think he was. I took off my shoes and and clicked through the channels. I wondered if he had booze in the house. A gin and tonic would be so good right now. The bed was so comfortable that I closed my eyes for a few seconds, a few minutes. "Hey! Don't go to sleep on me!" He was back. "Sorry. I worked all day and usually take naps on Fridays. It's kind of a ritual." He was carrying two full glasses with translucent red liquid and ice cubes in them. "I made us some drinks. I need one. How 'bout you?" I was polite and didn't ask what the drinks were. I'd settle for anything. Was it paranoid of me to choose the one he didn't hold closest to me? I had heard tales (from girls mostly) about being drugged with pills mixed into their alcohol. Stan didn't even notice my awkward maneuvering. He just stood there, smiling and looking so hot. He kicked off his flip-flops and lied down next to me. We were propped up against the headboard in an almost sitting position. I liked the drink. It was quite potent and had cranberry juice in it...that's all I knew. "It's so nice to rest. I'm tired of working." Maybe that was code for 'you take over the seduction now'. Who knows? I moved closer and we rubbed shoulders. I looked down at his body. His feet were boxy - with all the toes being the same length. My brother had feet like that and shoes never quite fit him right. His boner was relentless and making a tent out of his sweatpants. OK. I just reached over and grasped it like I did before. I took another swallow of the cranberry courage and the set the glass down. I pulled down the sweats to his lower thighs as his dick bounced up and took pleasure in its new freedom. "WOW! You've got a massive penis, Stan. I mean, Wow." He laughed. "You're surprised? I wear size 14 EEE shoes after all. My ass is nice too. I bet 90 percent of this city's gays have had a taste of either or both. You can suck my cock, but not until you get naked. Deal?" Oh he had a deal alright. I stripped in record time, but I still wasn't as fast as he was. I took one last swig of the drink and just jumped into bed next to him. I wasn't new to this kind of thing, but I'd never been so close to a naked POZ man before...that I knew of. "OK, Stan. I'm nervous and not very forward. Tell me what you want and I'll do it. " "OK, kid. There's safe stuff we can do, some mostly safe stuff we can do, and a lot of completely unsafe things we can do. I just now remembered Benjamin telling me about how you were a 'Condom Nazi'. There's none of them here unless you brought some with you. I want your mouth on my dick -- which is mostly safe. I haven't been blown in about a year...would you do that? Please?" He knew he didn't have to ask. I slid off the bed and went to the end of the bed. I crept up between his legs and took the tool in my mouth. It was clean, slick and throbbing. I felt his heartbeat through the wide shaft. It wasn't my first time at the rodeo -- I could deep throat a dick pretty well after my time with Ben. Stan was bigger than my ex, but not in an impossible way. He grunted with pleasure and I didn't hardly gag as I went all the way down to his pubes. "NICE!!" He adjusted both of us so that he was sitting on my chest and mounting my face. He was experienced and polite enough to let me come up for air briefly. He pulled his dick out from my lips without moving from my chest. I saw the glistening organ bobbing above me. "Thank you, Stan. I enjoyed that." "Me too. I can just finish off all over your face or I can fuck you. It gets more dangerous from here on." "Let's keep going. Please?" "So glad you said that. I'll pull out. okay?" "No. I don't want you to do that. Be an animal with me." "Nope. I know you feel that way right this second, but I don't want you to get AIDS. I'd never forgive myself, and you'd hate me in time." He was serious. "OK." "You'll thank me eventually." I doubted that, but I was so hard and horny that I just agreed. "I don't have any lube except some hand lotion. It's pretty greasy, though." It was the same brand my mom had always used to get rid of her raw, dishpan hands. I waited while he slathered it all over his tool and then smeared a glob on my hole. I'd always loved this part of the sex ritual...the pre-gaming. So much anticipation and lust. I waited for the ride to begin. He pushed into me with not much resistance on my part. It hurt, but I knew better sensations were coming. So to speak. He let out a huge breath as he went in an inch or two. "So tight! Try to loosen up a little." I felt tidal waves of pleasure crash over me. My contentment must have relaxed those inner muscles enough for Stan to get his bare dick all the way inside of me. To the hilt. "I'm so full of you." "Yeah.. it's really, really good. I'm going to pump a little and pull out pretty soon." "OK" He thrust like a madman and I felt a drop of sweat from his forehead fall onto my face. His pace and his grunting let me know he was close to cumming. I loved looking at his face as he was lost in pleasure, but I was lost in a memory/fantasy of climbing that junkyard staircase and reaching the top. Here was open sky that I knew would hold me if I dared move further. He grunted and his hip movements got faster. "SHIT...I..have to stop now." I reached around and held his bare ass close. He was strong enough to break away from my grip but made no effort. He moaned and unloaded that load of semen directly inside of me. "FUCKKKK!!!" He collapsed on top of me. I'd also cum at some point. He breathed heavily and rolled onto his back. "You wanted HIV? I mean...why did..." "It was perfect, Stan. Don't make me feel bad about this." "OK. Let's just rest a bit. I need to go piss first." After he returned, he pulled the comforter over us. I had an intensely satisfy nap. When I woke up, I saw that it was after midnight. Maybe it was a good time for me to leave and go home. I dressed in the sparse light and pulled out my wallet. I'd leave him cash for the haircut and the book..plus a generous tip. I left the money next to his scissors and walked to the door. All the little mutts were sleeping in any clear spot on the couch they could find. I drove back to my apartment and couldn't believe how the day had gone. There was plenty to think about, but not now. Not tonight. Stan called me the next day, and almost every day after that. We went to dinner about twice a week or to movies or just up more sex. He may have claimed he wasn't marriage material, but he certainly seemed to be boyfriend material. I had no idea what kind of material I was made out of now...it was brand new.
  14. 1982 It was the Summer after my 13th birthday when my dad decided I was old enough to get a job. He was in the military and hated seeing anyone not do anything. "You've wasted enough vacation time lying in your room with a book. Too late to be a real kid now, David. You're going to contribute from now on." What kind of job? I was thirteen. Was that legal? Maybe he wanted me to do something at the base he worked at...like build guns or diffuse bombs. He and I had absolutely no connection. "You'll be spending your days helping Mr. Murphy next door. He's 79 years old and needs help doing things around the house. Go to the store with him, help him make meals and keep him company. That's not so hard, is it? "No sir." I'd maybe looked him in the eye maybe three times in my life. He was pure army. I was pure pansy. The next morning Mom walked with me next door to Mr. Murphy's house. I hadn't seen him up close...ever. Picture Santa Claus on a crash diet. He had a white beard and twinkling blue eyes, but he probably didn't weigh much more than I did. I felt good things from him. Kind things. "Master David! It's so good to meet you formally!" "Hello, Mr. Murphy." "Oh, just call me Gus. I hear you've come to help me keep things ship-shape. You ready to get started? Want some cookies?" I was in a mood. I'd just started a paperback by an author called 'Stephen King' and wished so badly I could tear through it. But okay. I washed his breakfast dishes and dusted all the thousands of little corners and crevices of his living room. I knew that Mrs. Murphy had died a few years ago. Calvin Foth and I were having a water gun fight in the backyard when the ambulance came. I just assumed she'd died from being old - I didn't know there was an official cause. My mood got better as I swept and polished. Poor man. I'd have plenty of time to read my book at night. I checked out cook books from the library and tried out different recipes. Turns out I had a natural flair for cooking. I made him brownies and pies. I liked eating dinner with him much more than I liked being at my own house where Dad's mood was usually dark and scary. Mr. Murphy talked to me about his time fighting in the big war and about living in Europe. He talked most about his departed wife. The man clearly loved her. If Gus was telling a great tale, I'd come home after 10 PM. "You need to leave there sooner. That old man needs his sleep." Dad never once asked me anything about my life, he just gave commands. The bible says you have to love your parents no matter what, but I actually hated my father. Maybe the bible didn't know everything about life. Maybe it was bullshit. If I were ever brave enough to keep a diary, I'd write about what I just told you. But I knew better than to try and hide anything in this house. Gus was right in the middle of a story about hiking in Switzerland when he just paused, closed his eyes and died. I never saw death in person. The ambulance came and my Summer job ended. I cried -- even though my dad kept reminding me that he wasn't even family. Like that matters. I skipped school to attend his funeral -- which was the very start of my rebellious teen years. Dad was an asshole, and now he would start paying. I kept watering Gus's lawn and weeding his flower beds even though he wasn't there to pay me for it. I was refilling his bird feeders when a fancy car pulled into the driveway. I was technically trespassing, but Gus loved his birds. A very butch woman with short gray hair got out of the car and marched right up to me. "Who are you? What are you doing here?" I didn't even have a chance to answer. "I own this property now and you have to leave. I'm going to sell it the second as I clear all the crap out. Shoo." Crap? He had war medals in there...and like one billion framed photographs. Was this bitch his daughter? No way. He wouldn't have raised an evil toad like her. While I normally would have just silently slunk back to my house, I turned to this new owner and said "FUCK OFF!" I didn't even care if she saw my address and called my parents. I was slowly developing a spine. FIVE YEARS LATER I was in the middle of a bitter, sometimes violent battle with my father. He'd mostly ignored me since I went through puberty. I'd grown broader and taller but still had a girlish voice. I didn't know I was so obvious until I saw a videotape of myself at some wedding or something. I walked like a woman and my gestures were a little too delicate. I knew then that I was a FAG. My dad started avoiding me at all costs. It wasn't until I announced I didn't plan to go to college that he exploded and confronted me face-to-face. "What if I kicked your fairy ass right out now?! You're an adult and can go do whatever...work in a purse store maybe. I should have been wearing a rubber the whole time your mother and I slept in the same room." I just took the abuse calmly which only seemed to make him angrier. This was a nightly thing. I stopped getting haircuts at the base's barber shop and I hung around the worst of humanity, hoping for some bad influences. I smoked and shoplifted and made buddies with all the kids who had given up on a future. Just as I had. I had a full-time job that Summer and planned to find an apartment and never come back. I'd need to save up a little more money while I waited for my escape. That horrible woman kept the house for sale almost four years before giving up and replacing the sign in the yard with "For Rent". Ha! I'd been in the backyard when I overheard her bitching about what a disaster the garage was. "I found an empty shell of snakeskin that had to be five feet long. Whatever's in there can stay in there." Thank God (who I know longer believed existed) for snakes...and the busted housing market. "Did you see who rented the house next door? Some goddamn Mexican guy" Dad was so racist, but usually held his tongue because it wasn't cool to be that way with new recruits who were mostly minorities. He only exposed that ugly side to us. "I guess I should stop even taking care of the lawn. Neighborhood's gone to hell. He's got tattoos all over his damn body. All in black ink..which means he got them in prison. I've seen enough kids with those -- and they all have a record." I had to meet him. It would flat out kill my dad if I made friends with him. Didn't see him for weeks even though I was always looking for signs of the ex-con when I snuck out for cigarettes at night. Maybe I'd just start smoking in my room. What would happen? I didn't dare do it because it would hurt my mom. She was harmless, but I felt sorry for her and the life she'd had. I didn't love her, but I didn't wish her harm either. One day I noticed the new neighbor had put up some concrete religious statues in his front yard. Catholic. But he'd also set a birdbath right smack dab in the middle of the lawn. As gloomy as I was, I still got a rush of secondhand joy when I saw a sparrow or a starling enjoying a bath. Dad would not us to have a birdbath. "Those things are breeding grounds for mosquitoes." I had just started a rare three-day weekend when I decided to move closer to the new neighbor's yard. It was mid-morning. There was a little gate hidden in Mr. Murphy's overgrown hedges. I had my cigs with me and decided have one -- just on the edge of the property where I could get a closer look at things. I wondered if his birdbath already had mosquito larvae wriggling around inside. Maybe I could dump it out and fill it back up with fresh water. No. The early morning sun was too bright and exposing. I'd just finish my smoke and go back home. I saw that the backyard was as overgrown as it had ever been. I liked it being a natural habitat for all sorts of wildlife, but he'd get fined by the city if they still gave a shit about things like that. There was same old rusted out swing and the rotting picnic table. The bitch daughter had never bothered to take care of any of this. I threw my spent cigarette into dew-soaked crabgrass and prepared to go back to my room to start a new book I'd bought called "The Color of Light". "Hey!" I was busted. I thought about bolting for home, but didn't it. I really hadn't done anything wrong. It was the supposed criminal Latin man I'd been hoping to get a glimpse of. He was shorter than me and his skin was a nice even brown. Jet black hair. He was only wearing a pair of cut-off jean shorts. Sure enough, he was covered with tattoos that were all in black ink...and looked very amateur. Everything added up to an attractive, dangerous man. "Sorry...I live next door and came out to sneak a smoke. I'll leave now." "No. Why. I don't know anybody here and you seem like a friend." I don't think I'd ever given off that impression before. "I really liked the old man who lived here before you moved in. He was very old and I helped him with chores and stuff." He walked closer to me., barefoot and smiling. "Yes. Is your father the military man? He does not seem to like me much, Yes?" "He's an ass. Ignore him. He's working himself into an early heart attack and I hate to say it but I can't wait." "Yes. You look a lot like him, but you don't push hate out of your pores like he does. Are you in school?" "Just graduated." "Ahh. I never got that far. I was more interested in earning money than sitting in classrooms." "What do you do?" "I..I sell things. Scrap metal mostly." I didn't even know if that was a real thing, but he didn't seem dishonest. "I do a lot of things. God, this wet grass feels so good under my feet. It feels like freedom." "You do some time?" God, that was too abrupt and too rude. "Oh sure. Who hasn't?" I then noticed the security ankle bracelet he was wearing. "I'm Jorge (pronounced 'hor-hay') by the way." "David. It's really good to finally meet you." "If you need some extra money, I could pay you to help me get this place cleaned up. The garage is full of shit." I already knew that. "Well I work as a manager at Food World, but I've got three days off now. My dad's mower won't be able to cut all those tall weeds, but I can help you find you somebody who can. "I know plenty of amigos who can handle the yard. I need help with the garage and the basement. We can start as soon as you're ready." "Whenever, Jorge." I wondered if that was even his real name. "First things first. I always need to get stoned before I start the day. You smoke?" "Oh yeah." Total lie. "Good. I can pay you in weed or money -- whatever works best for you. It's good shit." "Weed is good," I said in a fake voice. It would be the pinnacle of my teen rebellion. My dad would be so enraged. "OK. This stuff is a little damp so it's hard to keep lit." I had zero idea what it felt like to be high. Maybe I could fake it. Jorge used intense concentration to light the 'fatty' (what he called it). He huffed and breathed in deeply and noisily. Like a viper hissing. I imitated his moves and noises, but didn't actually inhale too much. The taste reminded me of the incense they burned in the bookstore I went to sometimes. Jorge didn't buy it. "No. I should have known you didn't smoke. I met your papa the other day and he would probably murder you if you smoked pot." "You met him?" "Yes. I was outside enjoying the fresh air when I saw him walking to his big car. I saluted him, but he frowned and looked away." "Shit. You're not supposed to salute an officer unless you're in the service as well." "I don't think he likes my skin color either." God, this guy had some intuition about people. Maybe he honed that skill in prison. He continued to exhale his clouds as I stood there like a six-year old holding a yo-yo. "So he's a captain or a general or something?" "Something like that. I have never cared enough to listen to him talk about his job." "That must be something....a dad like him with a son like you." I did and didn't know what he meant by that. I'd tried as best I could to butch up and make my voice deeper, but my gay vibe must be broadcasting anyway. Really nice, kind people act like they don't notice, but I know they do, "He's pretty much a monster...and my mom is a walking corpse most of the time. I don't think either of them has ever hugged me. We're basically just roommates." "Never hugged? That sucks. My pop was a drunk, but mama loved me to death. I hate that you don't know what that feels like." And then he reached around me and hugged me. His tatted-up arms were strong and his chest felt so warm. I had no words. He stepped back and looked me in the eye. "Now you have been hugged,David." I tried to say 'Thank You', but all that came out was "Thaaaa..." "You ever shotgun?" Fuck. He was talking about guns now. "Since you don't know how to smoke, I'll do it for you." He inhaled deeply from the fatty and planted his lips directly on mine. Was it my gayness that caused me to open my mouth and put a hand on his back? "Breathe in as deep as if you were about to go underwater." Okay. I understood now. But we had kissed in the technical sense of the word. "Better, yes?" "I don't feel high." "You will. One more time?" I nodded. We repeated that magic moment and I held him a little closer. I could kiss this little man forever. "I think I'm feeling it now." Or was I? Was this like Nyquil where you had to wait a half hour before you felt it? "Good. I need to take a whiz and then we'll tackle the garage." He wandered a little ways into the tall weeds and let his shorts drop to his ankles -- as if just pulling down the front would have taken more effort. Whatever. I a least got to see his tiny brown butt ...nude. I'd usually kept all my jack-off fantasies on the idea of a big, hard penis. It had never occurred to me to appreciate the male ass for the beautiful thing it was. Wow. He turned his head around and seemed pleased that I was watching. He knew exactly what he was doing - and so did I. I'm glad my t-shirt was so baggy and hanging low because I had a wicked erection. "OK. I'll open up the door and let the dust out a little, scare the spiders away." He was all business now. It made me feel a little better that he knew what to do because I was floating and listening to all the neurons in my brain firing randomly. So this is what pot did. I felt weak and sleepy. And hungry. I couldn't go back on my word and go home for a nap now. I had to remember how my normal David self acted. I think I got the walking down pretty good, but didn't dare say a word out loud. Too chancy. "It has an automatic door opener, but that fat bitch didn't give me the remote. It's no big deal, though." He squatted and lifted the door effortlessly. I saw the muscles in his back work. He had to have lifted weights while locked up. There probably wasn't much else to do there. Dust and old smells came rushing out the opening. I'm sure Gus's daughter had sold anything of value in there...despite the monster snakes. I either told Jorge or thought about telling him to be careful. Wonderful midday sun streamed in and shined upon stuff that probably hadn't seen light in over a decade. Holy Hell! There were so many cardboard boxes and random tools...all covered with years of dust. Buckets, crates and about two billion paint cans. "Shit, Jorge. How are we going to clear this out and get rid of it?" "Just put all the useless shit in the driveway for now. I have a guy coming to haul it off." I could have been a good boy scout and told him that a lot of the stuff in here couldn't go to the regular dump because it was classified as 'toxic'. I kept quiet. I was amazed that he's come inside this squalid crypt barefoot. "You should probably put some shoes on, man. There's nails and other sharp crap on the floor." "Yes. I think I'll put on some long jeans and a shirt too. Why don't you go home real quick and change into your crummiest clothes and we can start." I hurried home and found Mom vacuuming without really looking at the floor. She was lost to her private,sad thoughts. My rattiest jeans had holes at the knees and other bare spots developing on the butt. I found some old high-tops that had seen better days, and a long-sleeved t-shirt. Gloves? It would probably be a good idea to find some work gloves, but I wanted to get back to Jorge as soon as possible. "Hello?" He wasn't in the garage. I'd wait. He didn't seem the type to fuss with changing clothes. After a few minutes of me just standing there and remembering stuff. Maybe Jorge had left for some reason. I decided to get started with the massive stacks of paint cans. They didn't slosh at all -- mainly because they had aged into solid rock. When they were finally all out and stacked in the driveway, I decided to start in on the cardboard boxes. I found old newspapers and magazines and tons of random receipts. One of them was full of old photographs. Many of them were of a young girl in a party dress or sitting atop a pony or at some amusement park. Was this that bitch daughter of his? He'd put them here among the trash which was where she belonged. They probably had a falling-out at some point. Gus was too good and kind, but even people like that know when to throw out a piece of rotten fruit. Just as I picked up the final box, the king of snakes whipped by me. Bull Snake. He or she had been keeping mice out of this place for a long time. I watched the snake wriggle out into the front yard. So long. After sifting out tools (some of them looked like they'd never been used) that I thought Jorge might find useful, I was feeling a little dehydrated. I needed water and needed to release water at the same time. Was he ever coming back? What time was it? I started to get a little pissed-off. There was a door from the garage to the house and I wondered if it was unlocked. It was. I was now back in Mr. Murphy's kitchen where I'd seen him die. I'd get a glass of water and pee in the sink if I had to. Then I'd go home. Fuck this. The TV was on and the air was fragrant with weed smoke. He'd been in here the whole time. I had every right to find him and ask what the hell was going on. There was Jorge, completely naked and passed out on the couch in a sitting position with his feet up on the coffee table. Goddammit. I would have been more angry except that now I had a chance to see him nude. He was muscular and compact. His dick was impressively fat and uncut. I'd only ever seen one or two penises that had extra skin like that. Two Hispanic kids in my gym class had been left intact as nature intended. I got a chance to study the tattoos up close. There were some weird symbols and random Spanish words. Damned if I knew what they meant because I'd taken French instead of Spanish in school. My dad hated French people as well as anything or anyone European. One of the tats said 'Property of V.L.P'. The TV was showing some bizarre game show where people were pulling levers and trying to get a good poker hand on a big video screen. I sat carefully on the couch and watched because I knew a lot about poker from all the shady pals I'd made over the last few years. Jorge muttered and snored. Next to his left foot was a half-smoked joint in an ashtray. I had my own lighter and so I snagged it and lit up. I had a better idea how to smoke this on my own now. I remembered that I had some days off, and it felt good to relax a little. I kept inhaling and exhaling my clouds. The TV wasn't all that big, but it filled my eyes. I picked a player to root against which is what my dad always did during 'Wheel of Fortune'. He usually wanted a minority to lose. I was practically inside of the show when it went to commercial for margarine. They showed a promo for the five o'clock news that ended with 'coming up next'. Dad would be home soon. It was that late already? Jorge was still sleeping soundly. I took the opportunity to study more of his tats. There was plus sign on his shoulder that I hadn't seen before. My stupid brain thought it meant he was optimistic and thought positive thoughts. I'd ask later. Would he wake up if I just barely touched that big dick of his? I couldn't stop my fingers. It reminded of the bull snake in a way. It seemed to react to my finger. Was I way stoned or did it jump a little? What if I touched it with my mouth? He was very obviously still deeply asleep. I knelt on the floor and moved my mouth over to his groin. I kissed all that extra skin. The thing moved again. Maybe he'd appreciate this. So I put the whole end of his penis into my mouth. The dick got harder and heavier on my tongue. I looked up and saw that his eyes were still shut. I was plum amazed at the flavors I tasted...a trace of soap, sweat, pot and a few other things I couldn't name. I moved on down the shaft and involuntarily gagged a bit. I hoped the sound from my throat didn't wake him, but didn't check. He sounded as if he were dreaming. "Si. Si.", "So nice.", "Don't stop now." I would take advantage of him and earn my pay for an afternoon of hard work. I badly wanted to make him to ejaculate and thought I could coax it out with my mouth. Did I want that? Did I really want a man's semen in my mouth? I'd deal with that if and when the time came. I worked the length of his dick I knew I could handle comfortably and used my mouth like it was a masturbating hand. Yeah...I wanted his dick so much -- and everything that came out of it. "No. Stop, David." Shit! He was awake. I pulled away immediately like I'd been caught stealing. I felt so embarrassed and guilty. I still had all my clothes on and could just make a run out the front door. Would he kill me? Tell my dad? "Bye. The garage is half empty now." He seemed shocked and disappointed. "Leaving? Why? That was fun." "I..I..." I had no words left. "Please don't go. I'll get us a few beers and even make dinner if you want." I stood there and watched his hard dick bob up and down as he yawned and stretched. At that very second, there was the sound of a car door closing nearby. Dad was home. He'd be walking in the door and asking Mom where I was. She'd stand there mutely as he went upstairs to change, radiating oppressive vibes throughout the whole house. I still couldn't make words, but I did sit down as Jorge got up and went into the kitchen. His boner had lost a little of its heft. "You really did half the job already? Wow. I'm sorry I left you alone. I am a pig sometimes." He returned with two bottles of cold 'Corona'. "You were probably just tired from moving in. My family has moved several times and it can be stressful." "Poor kid. I owe you overtime pay and a bonus. We'll work that out in a little while. Maybe cream? You want my cream, yes?" I almost didn't know what he meant. But. OK. "Whatever you think is fair." "Life is not fair. I'm an expert, kid." He took a long pull from his beer and put his bare feet back on the little table. I noticed the ankle bracelet again. He must be on parole or probation or something. "What did you do, Jorge?" "Many things, many bad things. Remember how you told me that you don't salute an officer if you're not in the military? It's like that with us, too. You don't ever ask that question unless you've done time as well." I'd never heard that. "Sorry." "It's okay, man. I'll just tell you that I never killed anyone. More details later." "Again -- I'm sorry. The biggest snake in the world is now out of your garage," "How big?" "BIG. Like maybe six and a half feet long. He might have some friends in there, but I doubt it. Snakes are pretty much loners." "Good, good. So you came in for a break and decided to suck my dick?" "No. I... I don't know. I just...." "Hush. I know. I been locked up long enough to know that gay guys love cock. I might be gay even, but never really had much of a chance to find out. Not two days after I got to prison, I was raped in the ass. Little guys like me are hot property behind bars. I was owned by a guy named "Virgo" for awhile. I worked out to compensate for my little size and only the biggest guys bothered me." "..." I thought about how hard his life had been. "I never had a girlfriend or a boyfriend...or went on a date." I noticed he had moved his hand down to his crotch. His stare was intimidating. "What happened to Virgo?" "He got real sick and was moved to the floor where they keep sick people. Lot of AIDS there. He might be dead for all I know." I don't know how he managed a full boner while saying all that, but he did. "Do you hate him?" "Oh yes. I wanted to make him hurt the way he made me hurt. I wanted to destroy him, get revenge." His boner got a bit more red and longer. "I'm here anytime, Jorge." That wasn't what I meant to say, but I was still the slightest bit off my verbal game. "Si. You're here now. Leave this room and come in again. Take your shoes off. Socks too." I was wondering if he had the AIDS virus too, but it was kinda late to ask that now. I took a few deep breaths and returned to the living room. There was Jorge, completely nude and hard -- with dark sunglasses on now. I padded closer to him until he said "Stop." "Fresh meat! You are about to be owned. Any idea what that means, asshole?" I didn't. Or maybe I did. My mind was no longer clouded with weed, and I should have been able to say something. "ANSWER ME!" "No,Sir. I do not. I'm sorry." "Save it. I guess I'll just have to show you. Stand still." I wondered what the fuck I'd gotten into. He stepped up right to me, and even though he was shorter than me, he seemed huge and intimidating. I could feel heat radiating from him. His strong hands groped me in very impolite ways and his fat little fingers worked their way through some of the threadbare places on my old jeans. He seemed especially interested in the hole that had almost developed over the crack of my ass. Oh hell. I should have guessed what he wanted: Prison Sex. And revenge. He was being a little too rough for a reason. I guess I'd asked for it. Jorge had found his way through the hole in the denim covering my butt. I hadn't put on underwear that morning and his stubby finger found its way right to my puckered hole. He pushed it in and I protested a little. Too soon. Too much. "Shut the fuck up! You'll wake up the whole block!" He was in the middle of his own private revenge fantasy. The fantasy I wanted to give him. But he was different now. He was an angry inmate all of the sudden. I'd play it by ear. "No! STOP! Don't!" "Shut up, New Meat!" He pulled my pants all the way down and started probing my ass with the wet head of his cock. He was going to put that fat thing of his inside of my body. Through the butt. Whoa. He spit on his erection and inserted it right through that opening down there. GODDAMN! It hurt and I screamed loudly. He could have gone into my nostril and it wouldn't have hurt like this. "Scream again and I'll snap your neck. Shut up and get used to it." He might have been lost in anger, but he did make an effort to go slower and easier. He was coming down from his anger just a little, straddling two realities. My lips kept shut tight and stifled the yelps. He pumped in and out and said some harsh words in Spanish. He and I were in different places. "I'm gonna give you your bonus now, David. Ready?" I wasn't Virgo anymore. He had gotten that part done with the initial ritual of insults and pain. "You wanted my cream! You wanted thi...FUCK!" He convulsed on my back as I was bent over in Mr. Murphy's old living room. He'd cum inside of me...this tattooed ex-con with who-knows-what in his bloodstream had just put his unsheathed dick up my ass and spurted his DNA all the way up into my guts. I didn't have a boner at this point, but felt satisfied nonetheless. How does that even work? I felt stupid that I hadn't also ejaculated. Would Jorge be mad? "Thank you." Did I really just say that? I felt like a kid. "No," he panted. "That went too far. Fuck. I'm so sorry, David." "Just far enough, Jorge."' "You think that now, but you'll regret that I violated your body the way I did." "Future and time are just concepts. I'm happy now." He was still naked and his dick looked used and streaked with my blood. "OK. I appreciate the work you did today. Go home and sleep now. If you feel like it, we can do the rest of the garage tomorrow...and I won't bail on you again. Promise." "Cool. See you soon." I was fully undressed and alone in my bed when I let myself think that I'd maybe been infected with AIDS. No amount of Flintstones vitamin could change that. I just wanted too see him again. I wasn't high anymore and don't think I'd ever opened the single beer he'd given me. Where was my usual panic and dread? I was almost always anxious about one thing or another. but not now. Not tonight. As soon as I discovered that this foreign peace was easily settling over my bones, sleep snuck in and I was gone. Dreaming..., and ready to go back for more. I would have too, but he was gone by the next morning. At the breakfast table, Dad said "Well the cops came and picked up that little slime-ball next door. He was cuffed and hauled away." "For what?" "Damned if I know. Scum like that can't seem to keep out of prison once they've been in. It's probably easier to live off tax dollars than to go out and get a real job." I'd finally moved out and gotten my own place by the end of Summer. It wasn't much, but it was better than being around my dad. I kept asking shady-looking people if they knew anything about Jorge, but he'd simply vanished. I didn't know his last name. I came down with a really intense flu in August. My dad - who never had any sympathy for anyone - was alarmed enough to take me to the emergency room after my fever spiked and I couldn't get out of bed. I found Jorge at last...inside of me.
  15. Note: I usually try to post complete stories and then move on to something else, but I got a few responses from members who thought there needed to be more, that it was incomplete as it was. (I appreciate all comments -- even the negative ones) I started in on new characters and new adventures, but "Bull" kept creeping into my head and I realized I missed him. So here it is -- the last chapter of Ken and and Bull's story. Well Christmas break was eventful, but nice. I brought my new man home to meet the parents in Connecticut. I only gave Mom a few days notice, but she seemed delighted that I'd made a good 'friend'. On the unbearably long flight from Phoenix to Hartford, Bull held my hand and acted like an actual boyfriend. It was a weird transition time for us because he'd pretty much established himself as the alpha male during our stay in the hotel. He was in control, but had acted like we were Joannie and Chachi since then. He was romantic and gentle. A southern gentleman. I wasn't complaining. We'd kept our fooling around to a minimum during finals week. I went to the library and researched as much as I could about HIV and AIDS. Apparently, you could get infected and tests wouldn't show anything for up to 90 days. The newly infected generally came down with a really bad flu a few weeks after they are exposed. I hoped it didn't happen during our trip. Talk about coal in your stocking... Of course Bull charmed the hell out of my parents. My dad - a businessman - wanted to know all about his father's cattle operation and the overall economy in Texas. I just let him shine while I noticed how little things had changed in only five months. Different TV, different sofa, some new candles here and there. My old room was full of boxes and stuff that made it unusable for now. Mom put us up in the guest room. "The mattress is new, but we never got around to putting a television in there. I'm sorry." We'd be sleeping in the same bed. If they only knew. We were almost snowed in when our flight was scheduled to leave for Dallas. We barely made it out. Bull was holding my hand again. We'd had no sex of any kind in my house...even as we were lying inches apart in the dark. "You didn't have to get my parents Christmas presents." He'd given them nicer gifts than I had. He gave me a really nice black cowboy hat that I wouldn't wear until we were in Texas. "That's what a good guest does. Your mama was thrilled with that amethyst necklace. Purple. It's a royal gemstone." Texas was everything I thought it would be. Big, American and Boastful. It was also very appealing to my artist's eye. The sky was so big and the landscape was so flat. You could put a simple red box on the ground and it would look meaningful. I had to take a photography class next semester and was always looking at things that would photograph well and get me an 'A'. I may have had sex with an HIV + man and dedicated my life to him, but I was still an honor student inside. SECOND SEMESTER As crummy as our dorm was, I was glad to be back inside of it. I really wasn't a New England kid anymore and not a Texan either. This place I shared with Bull was home -- in every sense of the word. Mom had given me a wall calendar with cute photos of pigs in it. Why? I have no idea. I put it up where my 1991 one had been. I was anxious for more weeks to pass so I could go to the student health center and get an HIV test. Two and a half more months. I put away the new sketchbooks and art supplies Bull had given me and unpacked. My jeans were getting a little tight at the waist. Between my mom's cooking and all the Texas BBQ I ate, I'd probably put on some needed weight. "I think we're the first ones back. I doubt the dining hall is open. Let's go out to eat...what's your pleasure? Never mind. I know where I want to go. We'll have some drinks to erase the jet lag. Wear your new hat...you look good in it." Sure. Cowboy hats weren't so unusual in Arizona. I kind of liked how I looked wearing it. I also sprayed on some of the new cologne he'd bought me -- getting rid of the airplane smell. "Your hair is growing in nicely, Babe." I had no idea where he wanted to go eat, but I used the silence of the short journey to initiate a conversation. "Hey, Bull...did you talk to me while I was asleep during the trip?" "Every night. You start talking a few minutes after your head hits the pillow. Weird. I answer you and try to make you feel better about things, your concerns." "Oh..like what?" But he couldn't answer right away because we were at "Bucky's" -- a pretty popular bar and grill. Maybe I didn't want an answer. Once we were seated and Bull had ordered drinks, he looked right into my eyes. "I know everything about you. Never forget that, Babe." I felt a chill. "You are worried about getting AIDS. I thought we'd already cleared all that up. I don't have it, OK? I'm a clean, healthy Texan. Do you think we would have done any of the stuff we did if I thought it would harm you?" This sounded so familiar...he'd probably said it to me several times while I was asleep. OK. He presumed his body had killed the virus -- even though the best drugs in the world couldn't. I'd just concede this argument. Life is a roll of the dice. I didn't want to get him mad at me again so I made my face relaxed and smiled as genuinely as I could. We ate cheeseburgers and drank. A lot. We'd only had some beers at his ranch a few times. I still wasn't sure how much alcohol it took to loosen my tongue enough to say the things I wanted to. "Remember how you told me you couldn't make me do anything I didn't want to do?" "I remember. It's still true." "Have you tried? I mean -- it's not like I want to start thinking I'm a coyote or anything. But have you tried pushing it a little?" "Maybe. What exactly do you mean?" We came across an actual rattlesnake during our visit to Texas. It was all coiled up and shaking its tail's noisemaker as a warning. Bull wanted to crush it with a rock or something but I just wanted to stare at him in awe. Right now, however, I felt as if I'd stepped on a metaphorical rattlesnake...or was about to. "I want to get a little depraved eventually. Do absolutely anything you want to do." "I've kind of been working on that already. I sure as hell wouldn't mind mixing things up a little. I didn't need your permission, but I appreciate the willingness to please me." "I ..." and the words ran out. He had the ability to render me a mute at times. "Patience. Patience and trust are what I need from you now. Classes don't start for four days and we'll have plenty of time to test some boundaries. Are you still going to take that photography class?" "Yep. It's expensive as hell. They give us the film and the chemicals, but we have to buy the photo paper and a camera. Dad slipped me enough cash to get what I need." "So you'll do all the developing and printing yourself? Nobody else will see your pictures?" "Well. The darkroom is always open. I'd normally want to go when it was quiet. Why?" "Patience. I'll fill you in on something when the time comes." More drinks. The talk turned less serious. "My parents really liked you, by the way. Especially Dad. You are definitely a 'man's man'." "I really liked them too. And your cute little town. Just seeing the place you grew up and the streets you rode your bike on -- it was enlightening." I was so glad the tone of the tone of our talk had slipped back into casual mode. Bull was my best friend first and foremost. "Remember the rattlesnake? I was just thinking of him. Snakes are amazing...all reptiles fascinate me. They give no fucks about us unless we mess with them." "Ever eaten rattlesnake?" He knew damn good and well I never had. "Are you going to be OK to drive?" His face was flushed. "Oh yeah. I'm just thinking about things.. Let's go." On the drive back to the dorm, I let him brood in silence with no interruptions. We were talked out I guess. It's funny how much I used to dread the start of school, but now I was really looking forward to it. I was taking a class just called "Color 1" and had no idea what that would involve. I wondered if I should go buy a camera now or wait until the professor gave guidelines. I'd wait. I was getting so good at putting things off. Back in the room, Bull chucked his boots and stretched out on the bed. "Give me a minute to rest my eyes and then I'll go get something caffeinated from the vending machine. Don't let me sleep too long." I switched on the TV and muted it while he rested. I was getting used to just seeing movies without hearing them. Maybe I'd become an expert lip-reader. After he started to snore a bit, I decided to wake him. Not just because he'd asked me to, but because I missed his company. No. Wait. I'd go get him a Mountain Dew from the machine downstairs first. When I returned he'd already awakened. I gave him the soda. "I heard you leave and knew you were getting me a coffee or something. How would you have woken me if I was still sleeping?" "By groping your crotch, most likely." "Good. That's my little, horny teenager." He drained the Dew and put the empty can on the floor. He knew I'd pick it up and throw it away because I was always cleaning up after him. I liked doing that even though I wasn't exactly a 'neat freak'. Maybe he'd said something to me in my sleep...maybe he'd given me orders to take care of details he didn't want to bother with. I was happy to be allowed to take care of him in any way I could. "You can turn the volume up on the TV a little. I like this movie." 'The Breakfast Club'. No matter how basic your cable package is, that movie is almost always showing somewhere. "I saw this at the drive-in with some slut who was giving me a hand-job the whole time. I missed a lot of the story." I remember my little pals and I seeing this at a Saturday matinee. Afterwards, we all tried to decide which character was most like each of us. I was immediately labeled as 'Brian', but I felt more like 'Allison'. Which one was Bull? Probably the jock. I didn't ask him, though. He was allowing us to watch TV with the volume up. He was being generous. It was the kind of thing he did when he wanted some intimacy. If he brought me a Diet Coke, I knew we were going to fuck. Well, guess what he did during the next commercial break? Yep. "Here, Babe. It's a little reward for putting on a few pounds. I bought some for me too...because I really need to lose weight." "No. You're perfect." I meant it. "You just see me as I want you to see me. I don't have that luxury. You drew so many great pictures of me, and I'd look at them and think 'If I really looked that way I'd quit school and become a model'." He let me drink about half of my soda before he spiked it with some rum he produced out of nowhere. Yeah, fucking would happen. I'd put a small 'x' on my new calendar on March 7th. That would be enough for tests to show if I had HIV in my blood. If we fucked again, I'd have to wait even longer. "They sure talk a lot in this movie. No wonder I don't remember anything about it." He stood up and switched on his fancy stereo which had never once happened before. Not ever. He fiddled around and I heard the familiar start of a Nirvana song. Wow! He was rewarding me big time. "God. I'm 16 again." I'm so happy cuz today I found my friends, they're in my head. "It's just sounds so sad, and I don't want to ever think of you as sad. I get it, though." "I was inspired by this band. I didn't feel sad when I listened to it. I felt understood." "Yeah. Cool. Need a refill?" I didn't, but he took the opportunity to go do something other than watch the rest of the movie -- which is way more talky than I remembered. He brought back the can and lingered right in front of me. His crotch was level with my nose for a second. Oh yeah! I remember how big and hard his dick could get! I wanted to see it and feel it so much. Of course he could read my every thought and started stripping. He was just down to his white jockey briefs and the fat maroon head of his penis was sticking over the top. I dared to touch the glistening slit. Yum! "You like that, Babe?" "You know I do." "I know everything. Never forget that. Finish your drink and we'll talk." Talk? I was so ready to blow him right then, but I knew better than to try and rush things. I guzzled the now warm rum and coke and almost choked. Bull knew how eager I was. Proper decorum must be followed (a Southern thing, I guess) and I didn't want to push my luck. "What do you want to talk about?" "Let's sit on the floor. You keep this place so clean, I don't even get dirty soles when I walk barefoot." I didn't mind sitting on the floor for this fireside chat. "OK." "A couple of things....". He belched. "One: I know what the mark on your 1992 calendar means. It's the day you're going to the student health center to get an AIDS test. You are biding your time until you know for sure...even though I already told you several times that you're in no danger. Two: I'm going to have to try a new approach with you. We're going to fuck on a regular basis -- until you're so full of cum, there's no more room for your silly doubts. Questions?" I felt guilty and looked down. "No." "Get ready,Babe. Were going to do it animal style now." I wasn't sure exactly what he meant until he forcibly pulled off my clothes and positioned me on my hands and knees. Oh. He was going to do it from behind. "It'll go nicer this way. There won't be as much pain since I've already broken you. I don't have lube this time, though. Sorry about that." I took a deep breath as his slimy head bobbed up and down along my crack. There was no teasing this time around -- he just pushed right in. FUCK! It was like it was my first time all over again. I screamed, but he was ready for that. His big, hairy hand went over my mouth to stifle the noise. "Hush, Babe. I waited too long and now you're all tight again. We won't have this problem tomorrow. I'll try to make this quick. Hold on." And he pumped furiously. I was helpless and not exactly enjoying this. I'd sacrifice whatever just to pleasure Bull. My knees hurt from the hard floor and the significant weight on top of me. I was just a portal now. I was just a way for him to get off, and that was all fine with me. He was hitting a spot inside of me that felt painfully good. SHIT ! He hammered away at what I now know was my prostate. I was so close to cumming....but I was not allowed. I knew he had to cum in me first. And then he did. "GODDAMN! FUCK! I'm breeding you again!" He was all sweaty again and smelled wonderful. He collapsed on my back and it was so nice. I was reminded of our first time..how his itchy, hairy mass felt as it covered my prone body. We gathered ourselves a little. I had had sex twice now..with a man who might have HIV. He might claim he was clean, but I still had my doubts. 'The Breakfast Club' had finally ended and we awkwardly sat and waited for the next movie. "Go take a mini-shower, Babe. There's some blood on the floor, but you'll take care of that tomorrow." I put on my robe and took a towel with me. I sat on the toilet forever. I pushed out a bunch of cum and blood. I may have cheated the virus last year, but it surely took root this time. I took a longer shower than I'd planned. I started all my new classes and was so stimulated by what I was learning. I saw the same models I'd drawn in the first semester, and, except for a few new tattoos, they looked the same. I wish they were beefy and sexy like Bull, but nobody consulted me on the matter. We had anal sex every night and I started to worry that I was getting too loose and sloppy down there. His giant dick had ruined me for anybody else. In my "Color 1" class, I usually wound up sitting next to the same cute guy. His name was Bruce, and he was adorable. He was my age and my height and so friendly. As much as I loved Bull, I couldn't help but wonder what a relationship with someone who was my equal would be like...someone who didn't control me or have a disease. I had to smother that idea before it evolved into something I'd say in my sleep. Bull was still talking to me when I slept. I knew it because I'd sometimes wake up and hear his words.... "And you like it." I answered as if I were still deep in slumber. "I do" "Good." I don't know what it was that I said I liked, but whatever. I'd find out eventually, I guess. A few days later, I knew what I'd been wanting. Every time Bull announced that he had to go pee, I'd follow him into the bathroom. I wanted to see the stream come out of his fleshy snake. He pretended not to notice my new interest. I'd often stand beside him and watch. When the place was empty, I'd put a finger in the warm,yellow flow. He saw that. "I want to piss in your mouth tonight." "Yes. I want that, Bull." And a few drinks later, we decided to go for it. "Wait. I want my bladder to be bursting. I'll have Larry guard the door for us." "Who?" "He's the speed freak a few doors down. He's always awake and he owes me a few favors. Stay here." "Well...?" "He was shooting up the stuff with his door unlocked. He said he'd not let anybody into the bathroom for as long as we were in there. He asked me if he should bring his gun -- I said 'no'. Can you even believe somebody like that is allowed to even buy a firearm? Fuck." I was silent and patient. I didn't care about guns or drugs at this point. I silently wished for him to drink more liquids. "I'm getting used to Diet Coke, Babe. The chemicals must be changing my brain just like I changed yours. At least I know you belong to me -- and not that cute frat dude in your color class." Shit! I had no secrets of my own anymore. "I'd never do anything with him or anybody else, Bull." "I know, horny kid. Sit somewhere else in that class from now on." "Yes, Sir." "Wow. You've never called me that before. I think I like it. You are so beaten down now that you can't say my name. I either love that or hate it. We'll see." His pal Larry stood right outside the door as Bull took me into the far shower stall. We were naked and he had me kneel down on the cold tile, right at his feet. I noticed he'd kept his toenails neatly groomed since I'd trimmed them while we were at his Texas ranch. I was a little sorry that he'd not grown them out more. Just then a splash of his warm pee hit the back of my neck. It was more hot than warm. His body temperature was always pretty high. He soaked my hair and then pulled my head backwards to hit me in the face with the splash. "Open your goddamn mouth." When I complied, he loaded my mouth with that super-heated, smelly liquid. I swallowed as much as I could, but a lot of it spilled out. over my lips. I was being baptized, cowboy style. I choked a little and he went back to hosing down my hair. I was grateful for every drop. "OK. I'm done. Was it everything you hoped for?" I coughed a little and it occurred to me that I might throw up, but that would offend Bull. "Yes. Thank you." "Let's rinse off a little. The night's not over." We showered together which was not nearly as erotic as movies make it seem. Bull stepped out first while I remained, wanting to get rid of any trace of urine odor. "What the fuck are you doing in here??!" I hadn't heard him sound so angry before. Larry had come inside to watch us with his dick out. Busted. He zipped up his ratty jeans and stepped back a few feet. "Sorry, man. That was fuckin' hot. Maybe I can join in sometime?" "Turn around while Ken gets out of the shower and puts his robe on," he said in a less threatening tone. I don't think I've ever felt so embarrassed in my life. I dried off as fast as I could and got my robe tied tightly around me. Bull was still standing there, sopping wet with his fists clenched. I got his towel and started drying him, silently communicating my wish that he not kill this guy. He'd go to jail. "OK. Thanks, Babe. Should we invite him to party with us?" What? Was he serious? "Um...Sure. Why not?" "Come to our room in about thirty minutes, and don't bring any of your drug shit with you." "Deal." I was struck mute as we walked back. Once inside our cozy space, I spoke up. "Bull? I changed my mind. I don't want him here." "Yeah -- I changed my mind too. I thought it would be cool to watch you two fuck each other, but not anymore. You can't catch anything from me but you could possibly catch all kinds of shit from him. He's a druggie who uses needles after all. I'll take care of it when he comes to the door. Relax while I get you a drink. Don't get dressed." Relief flooded over me. I'd only ever want Bull. "I'm surprised that you were so ready to just share me with someone else." "I seem to remember some guy telling me he wanted to get a little depraved. I've been in threesomes with men and women several times. It can be hot, but that was my past -- not my present." "Wow...this is more rum than Coke, Bull." "I figured you'd want to wash that taste out of your mouth." He grinned. "I was really into it. I hope we can do it again soon." A knock at the door. Larry was here for some fun. "Hold that thought." I heard Bull tell the guy I wasn't feeling good after swallowing so much piss. "OK. I think I need a little rest now. Finish your drink, then turn off the TV and go to bed." 'Steel Magnolias' was on. I watched it while Bull went to sleep and I finished the rum and coke quickly because I had some thinking and dreaming to do. I never felt more safe in the dark than when Bull was near. I was hitting a really good stride as the semester progressed. Before I knew it, March 7th was here. I was dedicated to every class and did so much work. Bull fucked me on a fairly regular basis and it became truly pleasurable, hardly any bleeding except for the one or two times he got extra rough. I hadn't had that infamous AIDS Flu I'd read about, but I did get a severely sorely throat a few weeks ago. Bull took care of me like my mom would. I had dark circles under my eyes at times, but I was sure that was from not sleeping enough. I had mixed feelings about being tested, but I needed to know. The student health center was in a fairly new building and full of kids with the regular flu and/or scrapes and cuts from drunken episodes. I had to show my university I.D. which meant there was no way this would be anonymous. Fuck. I hadn't even thought of that, but there was no turning back now. I didn't touch any of the magazines and waited only a few minutes before my name was called. The doctor or technician or whatever she was sat me down and asked intimate questions that I really wasn't prepared for. "Let me save you some time," I finally said. "I've been having unsafe sex with a man who has been exposed to HIV. My blood and his semen have made contact multiple times." She blinked a few times. "I see. Are you prepared for a positive result? Do you have a support system in place. We have counselors you can talk to anytime -- free." I assured her I had a very good support system but I didn't tell her it consisted solely of my HIV+ boyfriend. I just wanted to get tested and leave. I guess she knew that because she just put on a pair of latex gloves and drew some blood. "I'm sending you home with some literature about AIDS and some condoms." That was it. I had to wait a week for the results which I could only get in person. FUCK. A phone call wouldn't work? No. I walked all the way back to the dorm and didn't notice a single detail. Of course Bull was in the room. I needed some alone time in the worst way. "Well?" "Well what?" "I know you went and got tested today. You've still got the band-aid on your arm." I wasn't in any kind of mood to chat or even deal be around him right now. "Yeah. I did it for both of us, Bull. I know you're healthy, but I'm not fully Texan yet. I need a nap, OK? We can talk later." He was completely silent and just nodded. I slept soundly for an hour while he busied himself with whatever. I awoke to Bull holding a big bag of fast food for us. "I'm not hungry, Bull." "You need to eat...you're starting to lose weight again. Sit up and talk to me." Fine. I arranged myself as he handed me a regular coke. Ice cold. "I know you must feel betrayed, but I'm scared. I don't even know what I'll do if it turns out I'm positive. I'm so scared I feel like crying." "I know. I've tried like hell to talk you down from that while you slept, but I guess it didn't work. I hate not being able to comfort you. When will you know the results?" "Not until next week. And I have to go there and get the news in person. Next week -- during midterms." And then the tears came. I cried and lost control for a few minutes. "You need a drink, Babe." God. Was alcohol his only 'go-to'?? Fine. As upset as I was, I wanted to pass out drunk for a week. Fuck my classes. He tried to pour some rum into my coke, but I took the bottle from his hand and took a big swallow.I was being rude, but he understood. "Go easy. You have an empty stomach." "Rum has a lot of calories -- it's made from sugarcane, right? Let's just talk like it was an ordinary evening. Can we turn on the TV?" "Sure, Babe." He switched on the TV and found a channel that was showing a documentary about apes. "How was your day?" I was from that old school of thought where you had to stop dwelling on yourself by caring for others. "Well....I don't know if you want to hear this, but Larry's dead. Overdose. I was just walking in to the building when the ambulance came. No sirens. He had already passed on a day ago. I guess the R.A. found him. There's a floor meeting tonight, mandatory but I already got us out of it. Shit. That guy. Danced with the devil one too many times." "Wow. Tell me one good thing that happened to you today." "I woke up early and saw you sleeping so deeply, hugging your pillow. It filled me with love and peace." He continued to talk tenderly as I got stupid drunk. Finally. I could sink into the abyss of sleep for awhile. By the next week, I had regained some of my abilities to function. I kept my head down and plodded along until it was finally time to go get my test results back. You've probably already guessed that I was HIV+. For real. I felt okay. At least that's what I told the woman who broke the news to me. "You may go through a period of shock, numbness. Let me give you a list of doctors. I'm sure you have many questions and I'll answer as many as I can." "No. I know a lot already because I pretty much expected this outcome." I just left her office and walked through the lobby. All these dumb kids with their minor issues...none of them would get a death sentence today. I was not only ill, but thinking jerk thoughts. There's no way I could ever tell my parents...I'd rather jump off a tall building. I knew Bull would find out eventually. What would he do, what would he feel? He'd just have to discuss it with me while I slept. I was a statistic now. Thank God he wasn't in the room when I returned. He could read my mind and I needed to compose myself a little. I was taking a "Critical Writing" class, and we were supposed to read a new book every week and write a review. At least ten pages. I picked a book I'd always loved: 'The Diary of Anne Frank'. Of course the ending was tragic, but I loved it for how fully that poor girl came to life for me. She was real and true. Truth is the thing every good writer knows how to make sacred. I opened the book and read it for awhile. I read with a critical mind, and still loved every page. At some point I drifted off to sleep. A nap I deserved. Bull had come into the room at some point. I woozily returned to a sitting position and wondered how long he'd been watching (talking) to me. I'd probably already spilled the beans...the HIV beans. He was sitting with no shirt on and barefoot. Just leans. I must have told him at some point that I thought he looked sexiest that way. "Hey, Babe. Need some coffee..a coke?" "Yeah...I'm thirsty. A cold soda would be perfect." "Well, you're lucky because I've had one ready for you for the last twenty minutes. It's Dr. Pepper -- that okay?" "Perfect." "Want some hooch in it? I don't know if vodka mixes very well with that." "Oh definitely. We probably need to talk." He nodded and just handed me the bottle. "What's on your mind?" "Don't you already know?" He shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah. I know. I feel like shit, Babe. You know I do." I took a few deep swallows of the potent liquid. "I'm fine. The doctor - or whatever she is - thought I was in shock. But I only feel what I've always felt...a deep love for you." We both stood up at the same time and met for a very long hug. I fought back tears because his feelings were so important to me. I would always be young and healthy with his arms around me. Always. THE ENDING I had to take charge after that fateful day and insist we get regular treatment. I'd told him that I wanted us to grow old together. He didn't fight me on anything when it came to our health, but he was in charge of everything else. We were so bonded now. Jesus -- was that really over 25 years ago? His parents got divorced and his dad gave him the cattle ranch before the mother could take it. That's where we live now. I never get tired of warm weather and that giant sky overhead. I'd written two graphic novels and received a big advance for another. Bull busied himself with business and investing. When I needed a break from writing, I'd go out and sit on the front porch. I saw a bobcat once. They look a lot like regular house cats, but are not to be messed with. I'd wander around the flat prairies and find the occasional rattlesnake. I let Bull tell me whatever he wanted to me while I slept. One of the medications gave me chronic insomnia (which wasn't listed on the possible side effects), but I kind of liked being awake and alone at night sometimes. It hadn't rained in two months and I could walk barefoot outdoors with no worries except for thorny weeds. I just loved looking into that giant sky and inhaling the hay-scented air. I could see the end of time up there and I could feel this rock of a planet we lived on hurtling through space at a speed none of us could ever really understand or believe. I got a great deal of my Texas blood from those stars. They nourished me and watched over me. I was protected.

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