GREEN THOUGHTS

The guy on the barstool next him was sipping some kind of green drink and Steve thought of green grass and the green foliage on trees.

The grass and the trees back home in Texas.

How long had it been since he had seen trees, grass? Oh, he’d seen lots of grass, he thought wryly. Pot parties in the fo’c’sle. But green grass?

It was raining here in San Francisco. But he bet that back home the sun was shining brightly on the green green grass in the front yard of the old farm house, on the green pine trees in the woods. A bright sunny day in Texas, the kind of lazy afternoon he’d loved as a kid.

And here he was, drinking in some gay gin mill in San Francisco at two o’clock in the goddamn afternoon. Drinking his second vodka on the rocks as if he had ail the money in the world instead of just the five dollars and fifty cents that stood between him and starvation.

“What’s that you’re drinking?” he asked the stranger next him.

He’d always found it easy to get acquainted with people in bars, in baths, anywhere. The stranger gave him a slow, appraising look. He was maybe in his midthirties. neatly dressed in a brown suit, white shirt. He wore a pair of severe looking horn-rimmed glasses and his brown hair was thinning, the hair-line receded. But he also wore a rather flamboyant polka-dot bow tie, which intrigued Steve.

“It’s a creme de menthe cocktail,” he sard in a rich, baritone voice.

The sound of the voice warmed Steve. It somehow gave him a feeling of security.

“That’s what I thought it was,” Steve said quietly.

The stranger’s eyes continued to stare at him from behind those horn rims.

“It’s good for after meals. I’ve just had lunch.”

“Yes,” Steve said.

The stranger turned his head away. Steve’s heart sank. He wanted very much to get better acquainted. Why. he did not know. There were certainly more attractive patrons in the bar, younger ones. But this man next to him seemed smooth and self-possessed, with quiet strength. And maybe the fact that he was older made Steve want him at this particular time.

Maybe he was tired of the young cute ones, of the pretty boys who were always anxious to ball with him. All he ever had to do was to walk into a bar such as this one, remove his jacket as he had done half an hour ago, and wait for someone to speak to him He always wore faded blue jeans, desert boots and a form fitting T-shirt to the bars. The shirt fitted snugly to every contour of his muscular torso. His biceps bulged. There was a tattoo on his right bicep, and another one on his left forearm. Already, since entering this bar, a beautiful youngster with long soft blond hair, flawless complexion, and full, pink lips, had cruised him from the end of the bar with wide blue eyes. Steve had smiled, feeling that old familiar stirring in his groin. And the youngster had sat next him. His eyes were even more stunning close up. The lashes would be the envy of any woman.

He had placed a warm, soft looking hand on Steve’s thigh, not daring to go further in public, and had invited Steve over to his to his place. He had some fantastic grass, he sard. Or a bottle of bourbon if that was Steve’s taste.

But suddenly Steve had not been in the mood. So he said maybe later and had even taken the youngster’s phone number. Watching him walk out the door, the round, tight little ass encased in close fitting, checked trousers, he had almost called him back.

Now, sitting beside this older stranger, he was glad he hadn’t. Older, not old, he mused, studying the man’s profile. Yes, he’s only about thirty-five, ten years older than me. Ten years is a long time. But I bet I’m a lot older than he is in experience.

Leaving home at sixteen, big for his age. An overgrown farmboy. But not naive. No, he’d had plenty of sex experiences even by then in open fields with boys his age. In a barn at least a dozen times one winter with a husky hired hand who sucked his cock and fucked him in the ass. Once, when he and a couple of his friends were drunk on home brew, he’d made it with a calf. Later, when he began shipping out, there was an occasional woman prostitutes, all of them. Then he gave up the pretense and went strictly for boys, a series of cute messboys. And in port he cruised the gay bars in search of beautiful, smooth-chested terns. Or full, round-assed, big-fitted boys Of course they weren’t really boys. They were at least over eighteen. But he wanted a boyish look. A yielding body Tricks were easy to find. Tricks dug his nearly six-foot tall, muscular body, his fairly thick, seven inch long cock.

The sea had been his home for five years now During that time he had never been on land for as long as he had been since leaving the cargo ship that had docked in San Francisco over a month ago. For a while he had hung around the Union Hall, but there were no calls.

Then one night in a bar he had met Rene. And after being Rene’s husband for two weeks he had decided never to get mixed up with a drag queen again as long as he lived Maybe that was unfair Maybe all drag queens weren’t like Rene—so possessive and jealous Rene insisted they make the rounds of the bars every night to show Steve off. Then he became very irate if Stove so much as looked at anyone else He would bitch all the way home and wouldn’t shut up til Steve shoved his hard cock down his throat. Then god how he could suck!

And maybe half an hour later, Jesus, what a terrific fuck! But all that bickering, all that silly jealousy. One night in a crowded bar Steve suddenly got fed up. He spotted a shy, blond stocky kid whose big nipples seemed ready to burst through his white T-shirt. He left Rene flat and went with the kid to a hotel.

Maybe that hadn’t been a very smart thing to do. Next morning, alone in bed, he kind of missed Rene. And his money was nearly gone too. He’s spent a tot. taking Rene out to those bars. But Rene never charged him rent, and there was always plenty of food around the place, He decided to try to make up, but Rene was unforgiving He had Steve’s bags all packed when Steve got there.

He had spent two nights in some flea bag on Taylor Street. He had mostly slept for two goddamn days and nights. Rene, and that blond kid had been exhausting.

Now his one suitcase and duffle-bag were on a public locker and he was down to five dollars and fifty cents. And he’s been thinking of home The stranger next to him drinking that green drink had made him think of homo.

Not that this was the first time. Often, standing watch at sea or sitting on the fantail staring at the gray, cold waves, he thought of the green, of the warmth of home. And sometimes when he was paid after a trip he would determine to go back to the farm But it was only a fleeting thought, lasting no longer than it took him to get to the nearest gay bar And a pair of bewitching eyes would cruise him. Soon he would be naked in some hotel or apartment, making passionate love to a swooning, smooth, hot, young body. Sometimes it was a one-night stand. Sometimes he shacked up with his lock for the entire week or so he was in port.

In any case, he seldom remembered their faces, their names, for very long after leaving them But this stranger next him now, he had to get to know him. Why was it such a compulsion? If I went to bed with him, he thought, I’d remember it for the rest of my life.

He decided that maybe it’s be better to not try talking anymore for the present. It dawned on him that there were several empty stools on the other side of the stranger. When he came into the bar about ten minutes ago he had sat deliberately next to Steve. Yes. Steve’s pulse raced faster. That proves he must be interested. Maybe the simple, easy thing to do would be to go back to the can and see if the stranger followed. Take it from there.

Only a few seconds after he had pissed he was aware that someone was standing at the urinal next him. A quick look confirmed it was the stranger.

”Hello,” he said to Steve, as if they had just met.

“Hello,” Steve said, his voice thick.

He stared down at the stranger’s cock. Even soft, it’s length and width were considerable.

“Guys who wear tight jeans give me wild ideas,” the stranger said in that rich baritone voice of his.

“Oh, yeah?” Steve’s throat was tight. “Yes. Especially when they look as good in them as you do.”

And very boldly the stranger reached around to squeeze Steve’s buttocks. Steve’s knees were weak from excitement. Usually guys squeezed him from the other end. He reached over, fondled the stranger’s cock to semierection.

“Will you go over to my apartment with me?” the stranger asked. “We’ll take a cab.”

“Yes.” Steve answered quickly.

The stranger’s name was Dan. On the ride out he told Steve he was a teacher in a local college Tuesdays and Thursdays he had only morning classes and today was Tuesday. It had stopped raining? Steve hardly noticed though. He found it so easy and right to rest his head on Dan’s shoulder It made him feel so comfortable, so secure.

That’s it, he thought. That’s why I like this man so much. He got me thinking of home. And his smooth, masculine manner gives me this warm, secure feeling. Dan took charge. And for a change Steve had only to follow. He felt Dan’s hand beneath his chin, lifting his head up. Their lips met in a passionate kiss. Neither cared for the moment what the cab driver might think. To hell with it. Why shouldn’t Steve kiss a guy he dug when and where he wanted? San Francisco cab drivers were immune to shock And it shouldn’t be shocking anyway.

Dan lived on Castro street. When they entered the apartment a young black man was sitting on the couch. He was wearing a robe over a pair of blue stripped pajamas and a coffee cup was on the table before the couch.

“Hello. Ken,” Dan said. “I’d like you to meet Steve.”

Ken stood and gave Steve a warm hand-shake. His features were clean-cut, wholesome, the All-American boy type. He was maybe twenty-three years old.

“Ken’s my roommate,” Dan said. “He works nights so that’s why he’s still in pajamas. Let me take your jacket, Steve.” Steve removed his jacket, wondering if Ken was to be in on their session. He hoped not. He. wanted to be alone with Dan. But the next moment his heart sank and he saw what the situation was to be.

“Hey, tattoos’” Ken said, examining Steve’s bare arms. “I dig tattoos.”

“I know,” Dan smiled.

“You’ve got a nice build,” Ken said, squeezing one of Steve’s biceps without a hint of self consciousness.

“You boys go on into the bedroom and start comparing muscles,” Dan said. “I’ll bring in some drinks.”

“Yeah. I could use a drink,” Steve said. Neithor Dan nor Ken seemed Ken’s example and stripped naked. Ken was smooth-chested with the muscular body of an athlete Steve, by contrast, was dark haired, and his chest was covered with mat of hair. But he was equally muscular. “Boy, you are built.” Ken said with admiration. “What do you do to stay in shape? I swim a lot and lift weights.”

Steve shrugged.

“I just drink a lot of booze and screw a lot,” he said.

“Let’s go ahead and start,” Ken said, his voice thick with excitement. “Dan wants to walk in on us after we’ve started. That’s the way he likes it.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Despite his disappointment at not being alone with Dan, the sight of Ken’s sleek young body, the touch of his warm hand, had the desired effect and his cock got bone-hard.

They were doing a wild sixty nine when Steve heard the bedroom door open and he was aware that Dan was in the room, watching. This excited him even more, knowing that Dan was so near. He was right on the point of coming and fought off the urge. He wanted Dan to be in on it when he shot off. But he needn’t have worried Ken stopped sucking his cock just before the crucial moment.

“Let’s have a drink.” Ken said. “You’re not in a big hurry are you?”

“No,” Steve answered He looked at Dan carefully as Dan handed him his drink. Dan was naked now. too. His body, though not especially muscular, was lean and strong looking. He had moved those horn-rimmed glasses and his eyes were a soft, sexy looking brown. And his cock, in full erection now. was massive.

Steve took a few quick swallows from his drink then stretched his neck forward and let his hungry lips encase the thick head of Dan’s cock. He heard Dan draw in his breath He inched his lips down on the cock as far as he could, feeling the warm throb. Dan’s fingers toyed with his hair. He took his mouth from the cock, wanting to kiss Dan. Instead, he felt himself being pulled gently back onto the bed by Ken. And it was Ken’s lips he found himself kissing.

Ken guided him, and his head was down between Ken’s legs, sucking Ken’s cock. He was aware of a sudden bright flash and knew that Dan was taking pictures. He felt Ken’s cock grow harder.

“Oh. Don’t!” Ken moaned, pushing Steve’s head away. “I’m about to cum.”

“No. Don’t cum yet.” Dan said. “Have some more of your drink, Steve. No, just stay in that position.”

Steve finished off his drink, propped up on his elbows, lying on his stomach. He wasn’t even sure what it was he was drinking, but it was very strong.

He felt Dan’s grease-covered finger poke into his anus and he lay very still and relaxed. thinking that Dan would enter him now wanting Dan to enter him. But instead it was Ken who mounted him and tucked him. Steve squirmed and moaned, for Ken really knew how to fuck. And all the time there were those bright flashes as Dan took pictures. Ken came with a loud lusty cry and pulled free.

Then very gently Dan asked Steve to lay on his hack and Steve thought, yes, at last. And he rested his legs across and Ken took pictures and got an extra good shot of Steve’s spurting cum, for Dan was masturbating him as he fucked.

When he left the apartment Steve had an extra twenty dollars in his leans. Dan had said that it was worth the twenty, the pictures were so good. And if Steve was having trouble getting a ship he could use a little cash. Steve wasn’t bitter, and he hoped he wouldn’t be later on.

He could use that twenty to get down to San Pedro. Maybe he could get a ship out from there.

Home? Security? Maybe. Someday. Or maybe the sea would always be his real home Maybe he’d spend many long hours looking at the gray waves, thinking of green things. And forgetting that, after all, even back home, it was sometimes winter.