by FRANK GOLOVITZ
Jerry Houston was known as a “ladies’ man” in high school, even though he had an almost unbearable crush first on a shy fellow student in his biology class, and later on Carter Willis, captain of the football team. Carter certainly encouraged Jerry’s attentions—they double-dated frequently, and after every date, after they’d taken the girls home, Carter would hang around for an hour or so, each wanting to touch the other, each wanting to hug the other close, but neither knowing how to make the first move, and each held back by the subtle brainwashing that told him it was unmasculine for male to love male…
Until he started Horace Mann High, Jerry had been as painfully shy with girls, half afraid of them, half envious, as he still was with most guys. But on the first day at the school, freckle-faced little Kathy Hughes, thoroughly confused by the disorganized crowd, had asked him where room 326 was. That was Jerry’s assigned home-room too, so even though he was as confused as she, he with luck led Kathy and four other shy, giggling girls to the room, finding their lockers along the way. The six of them shared some classes all through high school and Jerry was surrounded by delighted girls for the entire four years, except during his ROTC classes. Their warmest compliment was that they felt at ease around him, that he wasn’t like other boys.
He’d been a lonely kid before that, but the accident of helping Kathy that day made him one of the most popular boys in school, projecting him finally to the Presidency of his graduating class.
His pleasure at being around Kathy, Sue Ann, Jennie and the rest fooled him into thoughts of marriage, but he was not terribly surprised when Kathy came to him a week before graduation and told him she was in love with Jennie, asking for his advice, saying he was the only one she knew who would understand, because she could see how he felt about Carter…
And he had been understanding, until she said that. But the Number One Ladies’ Man of Horace Mann wasn’t yet ready to face up to the fasleness of that pose.
He had a scholarship for the state university where most of his friends were going, but suddenly Jerry’s father decided to move the family to Rochester, N.Y., and Jerry reluctantly went along. It was a bad move in every way. His father’s new job played out. Jerry went to work delivering parcels. He couldn’t seem to make new friends and two guys on the job began calling him a faggot. His angry denials increased their crude taunts and his own uncertainties. With all the dating he’d done, he knew almost nothing about sex, though he had long since discovered the intense pleasure of running his slender fingers over his own body.
He got his first lesson one night when he ran into Pete, his chief tormenter, downtown. In Pete’s beat-up old Chewy, on a dark side street, Jerry’s head was forced down in Pete’s lap, and from his mind to his gut he was torn with mixed feelings about what he was doing. “Eat it cocksucker!” Pete said with thick contempt. “That’s what you been wanting!”
Jerry found another job the next day, kept to himself for six months, then befriended a pale, girlish redhead boy on the job, who was getting the same sort of teasing Jerry had taken. Mickey was Jerry’s first lover, but while they each helped build up the other’s frayed self-respect, they both soon recognized it as a mismatch. Mickey wanted a male bruiser he could play wife to, and Jerry, though he wasn’t ready to admit it, wanted a masculine lover who would not invalidate his own masculinity.
So to break up smoothly, Jerry followed a whim and joined the paratroopers. He blossomed out in the service, picked up that “ladies’ man” reputation again, was popular with his buddies, got laid by a couple of them when they’d had enough to drink that it didn’t seem to matter, and then met Nelson.
Nelson was a dead ringer in looks and personality for Carter back at Horace Mann. He took to Jerry immediately, and they became inseparable. The other guys teased them as lovers and they brushed it off, but Jerry was just about on the point of admitting it to himself and doing something about it when a jeep Nelson was riding in blew up…
It really brought Jerry down. And he stayed down until he was out of the service, almost until he met Jimmy Estes.
It can’t happen a third time, he told himself as soon as he saw the redhead at his apartment door. But this truckdriver looked like triplets to Carter and Nelson, except Nelson’s hair had been brighter red, and Carter’s more brown. Jerry’d had a lot of time to think about his relations with each of them, and he was no longer bothered by the taboo, no longer willing to let something that good slip out of his hands…
Jimmy Estes had grown up on a Tennessee farm. He’d never been shy about sex, and had tried all kinds, but more and more he realized that what he wanted was a buddy, someone kinda dashing, darkly handsome, maybe even pretty-faced, but masculine, some-one he could sorta protect, but no sissy…
He’d come to Jerry’s door to deliver a new television. His first glance at Jerry and he made no effort to hide the fact that he liked what he saw.., though he was a bit embarrassed at his sudden rock-hard-on.
Jerry laughed and pointed, “Does carrying TV’s do that to you?”
“I guess I’m just the horny type,” Jimmy said, his eyes glued to Jerry’s darkish, bared chest.
“Do you know anything about setting these things up?” Jerry asked invitingly. “I could make us a couple drinks—that is, if you got the time?”
“Buddy, I not only got the time, I got what they call the inclination. Mind if I take my jacket off? I’m sweating already…”
The drinks disappeared instantly, and hands began to explore, so very different, Jerry thought, from feeling yourself up, so very different from having sex with another soldier while both of you pretended you were too drunk to know what was happening…
Gently, easy, slow, loving, a bit of casual joking, a little getting-acquainted talk, some weighing of crotches, then Jimmy exploring Jerry’s tattoos, learning about Nelson: “We got tattooed the same way, except where I got one on the right side, he had it on the left, and goddam but he looked like you.”
Jimmy’d never had a friend die on him. It made him feel good to be able to comfort Jerry, though at the moment Jerry seemed the happy-go-lucky type who wouldn’t be needing much comforting.
Jimmy considered himself a red-hot firecracker in the sex department. He’d had three good blow-jobs (and given a couple) at truck stops that week, but when Jerry’s lips closed over the head of Jimmy’s pale, firm cock, it was like something he’d never experienced before. But he could feel a nervousness still in Jerry, could feel that the boy, for all his apparent jauntiness, didn’t have things right in his head yet.
He tried to hold himself off, but shot before he could stop it, and fell Jerry turn off a little. He let Jerry lay back on the couch and slowly undressed him, kissing him all over, then stretching out with his head in Jerry’s lap.
“Wanta talk about it pal?” he asked, and quickly got Jerry’s life story. He was excited by his own resemblance to the two guys Jerry had most wanted to love, but was worried because Jerry still didn’t seem quite ready to face things. “Look pal, you been fighting yerself, and there ain’t no use in that. I ain’t much one for saying that I’m homosexual, heterosexual, bisexual or any a that, an anybody calls me a faggot’s gonna get a mouth fulla fist. But I live with me, and I like livin’ with me, and that’s been your trouble. You gotta accept the way you are, be yourself. And the way I see it, an I hope I ain’t pushing things too fast, is the way we are is two guys who wanta be together, who wanta turn one another on.”
“I’ll buy that!” Jerry laughed, though his mood remained pensive awhile. They kissed, arched together.
“I ain’t for sale; but for you, I’m all for free.” Jimmy sprawled back on the couch, Jerry moving uncertainly to take Jimmy’s meat back in his mouth, then sucking hungrily…
“It’s my time for that,” Jimmy said, getting to the floor and starting to run his nose and lips around Jerry’s groin before he settled on and gave Jerry a passionate frenching, drawing the last dregs of Jerry’s resistance out along with his cum.
They ended up on the floor—long, lazy exercises that were half wrestling, half lovemaking, and then into the spacious shower. Both of them had long entertained the fantasy of showering with someone, playing around with them at the same time, and both had enjoyed the excitement of common showers in the service, but the extreme discretion that was necessary took most of the fun out of it, even when another guy asked you to soap his back and you felt your pecker rise and knew that his was rising too…
Rushing water, soap and two loving, handsome bodies exploring one another for the first time make for tops in sensuality, slow, joyous arousal and no great hurry about fulfillment, stretching this way and that, feeling the water stream shift to run down your flank and jump across to his knee. Even when Jerry unexpectedly slid his soapy cock into Jimmy’s rear and Jimmy arched back to kiss, while the lukewarm water coursed down between open mouths, trailing across touching tongues…
Each one excited by every change in the other’s skin tone as the water shifted from hot to warm to cold, they dried one another off then made a run and dive for the bed, Jimmy excited because his ass-end could still feel the imprint of that quick invasion of Jerry’s shaft. And he’d never been all that anxious to have his tail pierced before.
He broke up a cool kiss. “Fuck me babe. I want that beauty a yours back up inside me.” He got up onto his hands and knees and turned his rump toward Jerry, who fingered some grease into the tight hole, then leaned forward slowly, finding the entry harder than it was in the shower, finding his rod hot and urgent as he pressed in, the head expanding as it slipped past the sphincter, the shaft starting to bend in the middle (that hurt some) as it met resistance, then sliding all the way in, Jimmy groaning loud, then urging him on, “Shove it baby! Pound that sausage up my ass!”
The entry hurt Jimmy like hell, and he’d never been one to take sexual joy in being hurt, or in hurting, but from the moment jerry had invaded him in the shower, he’d been getting higher and higher on the idea of being fucked mercilessly, and with Jerry’s third forward thrust, Jimmy collapsed on the bed, pulling Jerry down on his back, thrust hard into him. “Pound it baby! Pound the hell out of it!” and Jerry lustily obliged. The pain went away almost as fast as it had come, and there was just a wild churning, the sweaty drop of Jerry’s body over Jimmy’s back, the withdrawl that seemed each time to almost turn him inside-out, the loud splat as their bodies joined again, the wonderful turmoil in his stomach, the dull throbbing in his balls, and the spiraling craziness, the blazing fireworks going off inside his skull, then the pool of his own cum seeping between his belly and the bedclothes just as he felt an eruption of hot lead deep in his guts…
And Jerry settled snug down over his back, their arms locked together, their lips locked, Jimmy’s ass-muscles trying to hold onto the shrinking worm that was crawling out of his rear end, tickling, both of them laughing, then sighing, how empty can the stomach feel?
“When do you have to get your truck back?” Jerry asked as they rolled over lazily and lit cigarettes. “Don’t worry me none when it gets back, less you’re anxious to quit.”
“Quit hell! I still want to get some a what you just got.”
“Take me awhile to get my steam up again.” So they rested awhile, then jimmy rolled his lover onto his back, arched over him with jerry’s legs up in the air, and let himself slowly down, letting the rod fall into the waiting hole, sensing that Jerry wouldn’t enjoy being fucked hard, he gave him a gentle fuck, slow, loving, painless, so easy going that they were able to talk about where Jimmy lived (a kitchenette room) and whether he’d be interested in moving in (definitely) and whether Jerry might like to take on a part-time job as a trucker’s helper, with an occasional cross-country run thrown in…
2 Responses
Pretty bad writing, but I love all those pics from my boyhood era. Dick. Always dick!
I agree about the writing. These stories were usually written to go along with the pictures, and they didn’t give a shit how bad they were.