$2 Trick (no illustrations)
$2 Trick
Homosexual Classics
$2.25
$2 Trick
Homosexual Classics
$2.25
Wrestling? Robin was frightened by the rough turtling the boys engaged in, yet his imagination was excited now by the thought of intimate contact with the legs and arms of boys.
He didn’t mean fighting, he meant affectionate wrestling—not to win but to… what? His thoughts, striking fire from these pictured youths, wandered from the page, curled like smoke into dreams of boys he knew. Some of the boys who played basketball—Ronnie Lawler, for instance, with his flat black hair falling over his forehead, his dark brown eyes, his upturned nose and full warm mouth—Robin imagined Jerry without his brief basketball trunks and jersey—nude, like one of the Apollos— nude as he often wished he could see the basketball players in the shower. He dared to imagine Ronnie wrestling with him—both of them nude together.
He would let Ronnie hold him as tightly as he wanted, let him lock him between his shapely legs; he would like under that smooth warm pressure, happy to be gripped so, wanting to be crushed, to be felt all over, content to be the victim of a stronger, beautiful boy.
One time Robin had watched basketball practice when some of the boys had removed their shirts. He recalled their taut flat bellies, the provocative postures some of them took, shoving out their rear ends in their tight brief shorts—all those round hard thighs and beautiful legs.
Why did men always make so much of women’s legs when their own legs were so much more perfect, the flexed calves, the narrow ankles? The faintly sweaty smell of the gym came back to him, the smell of the locker room, a mingled odor of boy sweat, socks, and jock straps. He shuddered involuntarily as he remembered walking through the empty school corridors late one afternoon, hearing loud laughter coming from the gym.
Curiosity impelled him to walk across the deserted gym and peer furtively into the locker room. He saw two boys, both nude, a junior and a sophomore, snapping wet turkish towels at one another’s back-sides. Robin had been repelled and, he realized now, thrilled at the same time as the sophomore bent over, thrusting his naked buttocks toward the older boy, yelling, “Give it to me!” When the towel flicked his rear end he had howled, turned on the older boy and chased him through the lanes of dark green lockers, snapping his towel at the laughing, shouting junior.
This battle soon turned into a wrestling match on the stone floor of the locker room with the ostensible purpose of taking the soggy weapons away from one another.
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