AUTHOR'S WARNING: To this point, our story has had two characters – Brian and Curt, both aged 25, interacting with each other in the present tense. The next few chapters takes a sharp turn, containing essentially a very long monologue by Curt, who is recounting a complicated consensual relationship (sexual and otherwise) between himself as a minor (age 17) and an adult male - a teacher at his school. Obviously sex with a minor is illegal and I do not condone it. Be warned that the next few chapters contain, among other things (and like most of the rest of this story), sexual activity and language that is of a very graphic nature.
"Before the magic of heroin, when I was 17, I dropped out of school. I barely went by that time anyway, and at 17 the truant officers stopped hassling you, so on my birthday that day, I ditched school, officially. I'd been living at home til then, but when my father found out, he kicked me out. Last straw, and all that.
I was getting my first band together and I figured I could get by on that, but of course it didn't work. I ended up living in these squatter's flats, like, semi-abandoned places, 15 kids to a room, roaches, rats, no heat, the whole bit. Unhealthy. Nasty.
Then one day a few months later, this teacher from my school, anatomy teacher, who was also my music teacher, somehow found out where I was staying. I have no idea how. I had noticed him sneaking looks at me sometimes, out in the hallways and shit, and all the time in music class but overall I thought he was okay. We got along. He was better than some of them. He seemed to at least give a shit.
Anyway, this guy comes to the flophouse, out of the blue, one day. He says he wants to talk to me and will I walk out to his car with him?
I remember I was high – on pot, I mean. No "H" in my life yet. Everybody in the room was on something. So I said ya, whatever. I could barely see straight. So we walked outside, and he said he was really concerned about me and really disappointed and upset when he found out I'd ditched school and gotten kicked out of my house, because he said I was bright and I wasn't a bad kid … so he'd sought me out. He said he was really sorry to see me living in such squalor, and then he said, would I wanna come and stay at his house for a while. He said he had a spare room and if I needed a place to stay that was warm and clean, I could have it if I wanted.
Now, I was young, but I was hardly the average 17 year old, y'know? I knew there would be some price to pay. Plus I could just feel the vibes coming off of him, like sexual ones. But at the same time, there was just something about him. He just seemed, I don't know … decent."
He pauses.
"I'm just … feeling all these emotions thinking about this."
He looks at me.
"The thing is Brian, it sounds bad, but it's not really an entirely bad story. The guy cared about me. He was one of the very few adults who did. Ya, it had a sexual angle to it, especially as time passed, but he was in love with me too. A little too obsessively, maybe, but he was also afraid of me, I think. He knew he could be locked away for it, that his whole entire life would be completely fucked. So it wasn't like a situation where only he had the power."
He looks down. He pauses a long while.
"You still want me to go on?"
"Yes. If it's okay with you."
He takes out a cig, lights it, and continues.
"Well, so, like I said, I sort of knew he wasn't a lunatic, like I knew if I went to his house he wasn't going to keep me locked in a cage in the cellar or chop me up or something. He was popular and well-liked at school and he seemed somewhat decent. Kids trusted him. He fucking volunteered at the local soup kitchen, even."
"So I said to him," he smiles, "Shit, I was all brazen about it, as if I did this every day. I said, 'what are the terms?' I must have heard that line in a movie or something." He laughs. "I can't imagine I came up with it on my own."
"Anyway, I remember he stiffened up. It seemed to make him uncomfortable, that I was being blunt, that I was gonna make him cough it up. I was standing there waiting, looking him dead in the eye, and he was fidgeting and shit. It was like this awkward pause, I almost felt bad for him, and at first he said there were no terms, that it was a sincere offer of a place to stay, and I must have looked at him skeptical, and then he finally blurted it out, that … he said he was a teacher, that was the thing he loved, the thing he was passionate about, the thing he lived for- his love of imparting knowledge. And he said if I wasn't adverse to the idea, but only if I wasn't, he'd like to teach me things."
"Teach you things? Teach you what things?"
"Exactly what I said. And he said, he'd like to teach me about my body, and mostly …"
He smiles and looks down. He's embarrassed.
"… about my mouth, but only if I agreed to it." He bursts out laughing. "Can you believe that?"
"No I can't; it sounds awful. I don't find it funny at all."
"But it's so hokey to say that to someone, that you wanna teach them about their own mouth. But it wasn't hokey. He had very specific plans for what he wanted to do with my mouth, or rather, my throat."
My heart plummets.
"Oh, no. Oh, Curt."
I lean to hold him.
"I shouldn't have told you."
I kiss his neck.
"No, that's not it. It's just that it makes me so bloody sad. You were just a baby."
"But I wasn't. You cannot confuse me with the average 17 year old, Brian. I'd lived an awful damn lot by that age."
He rubs my back.
"Look, I know this is hard to listen to. It's just that … Brian, it sounds nuts to you, I know- it's impossible to understand if you weren't there, but … I don't hold it against him, any of it. He was lonely and horny and it just got directed at me, that's all. He cared about me, he honestly did."
"Ya, he cared about taking advantage of you."
"No, wait. Hear me out about this. Like I said, it's a long story. Wait til the end to draw your conclusions."
We part. He takes another drink and a puff.
"I went back into the rathole flat. He waited outside for me. I gathered up my fleabitten pillow and like the 2 shirts I owned, my toothbrush, my guitar- I didn't even have a case for it, and got in his car, and we left. On the way, I pressed him. It seemed to make him uncomfortable, talking business, or something, but he finally said he'd pay me 100 bucks. Which believe me, blew my mind- that was way more money than I'd ever seen in my life."
"We got to his place, and it was a pretty fucking nice house. Big. 2 car garage, good neighborhood, pool, even. We got inside, and it was all nice. Big country kitchen. Fireplace in the living room. He came from money. He sure wouldn't have made any at Detroit public schools. Anyway, we went upstairs and he showed me my room, which of course, was right across the hall from his."
"Oh, Curt."
"If you want me to stop, just say it, Brian."
"No, I meant what I said. Go on. Sorry."
"It was all nicely appointed. Clean, well kept. Antiques. To me it was all like Buckingham Palace, compared to the rotten trailer I grew up in.
So we went back downstairs and he made me a warm meal for lunch. And he sat at the table and we talked 'business'.
But the funny thing was, he was so polite and formal, it's hilarious when I think about it now. This was like some bizarro twisted black comedy, for sure. He told me I could stay as long as I liked, and leave at any point if I wanted, that he'd make me breakfast before he left for work, and dinner when he got back, but it was up to me to make my own lunch.
Do you see what I mean? I'm sitting at this guy's kitchen table, big stove, nice linens and all, we're discussing meals for fuck's sake, it's this normal homey domestic suburban scene, right? Except looming on the horizon, if he'd only get to it, were all the details about my oral duties."
He laughs. I frown.
"So being the somewhat ornery child that I was, I said, in effect, look, can you stop with the window dressing and get to the fucking point? What exactly do you wanna do with my mouth?"
He laughs again. My frown broadens.
"He again seemed uncomfortable. He was too well educated, well bred. He'd obviously never done this before and it was hard for him to just blurt it out. He said again, it was only if I was willing. He said regardless, he'd be decent to me, he'd never force me. He said he wouldn't even really touch me, but that he merely wanted to combine his two greatest loves- teaching, … and my mouth. I said, well how? And he asked me if I'd ever had oral sex with a guy before, and I said ya. Little did he know of course, that it was with my brother, but anyway, he said, well, do you know what deep throat is?"
I raise his hand to my mouth. It's so bloody hard to hear, it just twists me up.
"And of course, I'd never heard that term before, and I said no. And he said, he didn't think I would have, and that's what he wanted to teach me – how to deep throat."
"I asked him what it was, and he told me. Then he said he was sorry to be blunt, and he hoped it didn't sound really awful, and that he didn't mean to offend me. He said I could leave right then if I wanted to, he'd drive me back home, and he promised he'd never bother me again, but that he hoped I would consider it. And then he reiterated that he'd pay me 100 bucks.
So I'm sitting there thinking, okay, it's the middle of the winter in Detroit and I really have nowhere decent to go, and what has fallen into my lap out of the sky is an offer of a free bed- my own room, even; safe, clean surroundings; free hot meals, 100 bucks a week, and all I have to do for this windfall is blow this guy, who wasn't even half bad looking? Brian, believe me, I felt like I'd won the motherfucking lottery."
"How old was he?"
"37."
"So, shit, more than twice your age."
"Oh, ya. An adult, for sure. Married, divorced, established career, money, the whole bit. Total sugar daddy."
"So what did you finally say to him?"
"Shit, I said yes! I doubt I hesitated. He seemed really pleased, of course. Relieved, like. He immediately gave me my own key to the house, and he showed me where things were. I mean, it's bizarre, you know? Aside from the obvious reasons for it being bizarre- I mean, he had no way of knowing if I'd rob him or kill him or whatever. The house was full of stealable stuff- tvs and stereos and electronics and shit. But I certainly wasn't about to ruin my new found pot of fucking gold.
So I finished the meal and I turned to him and I said, so do you wanna do this now? I was eager for my money, see. And he said no, it will be at night. We'll both go to bed, in our own rooms. He said there wouldn't be any actual sex and he wouldn't touch me, but at some point he'll come into the room and he'll wake me up. He said I won't have to do anything- he'll already be hard, and he'll want it then."
"God."
"Ya, do you like how planned out this was? He was burning for it, obviously. He had it down to the final, minute detail. He said it will be awkward at first, uncomfortable, and that I'd have to be patient, but after I learned how, it wouldn't take long, maybe only a coupla minutes, and then he'd walk out and leave me alone. And in the morning he'd pay me."
"Unbelievable."
"Truly. So I said, well how often? And he hesitated. I don't think he wanted to tell me. But then he finally said, well, ideally, at least at first, he'd like it to be every night."
"Oh no."
"Because it will take some getting used to, and I'll forget what to do if we wait too long in between. I guess he had a point there, but I'm totally deflated now. Suddenly 100 bucks is like a total rip off if I'm gonna be expected to be on duty 7 nights a week, right? I mean, come on. So he sees that I'm sort of backing away, and he says he knows it sounds like a lot, but again, once I get the hang of it, it will only be a couple of minutes of my time. And then he says, a few minutes for a hundred dollars is pretty good, he thinks.
And so I'm mulling this over in my head, and then it suddenly hits me: 'A few minutes for a hundred dollars'. So I asked him to explain that part of it to me again, and he says it's a hundred bucks PER. Not a week, but a fucking NIGHT!"
"Oh my GOD!"
"He said he was sorry he didn't explain it well enough before, that of course he wouldn't expect me to accept 100 bucks for a whole week."
"But where did he get the bloody money?"
"His family. He was an only child of a bigwig in the auto industry, Both his father and his grandfather made huge money, particularly during the war. He was the shy, arty son who didn't like mechanical stuff, which they frowned upon, of course, but he was the sole fucking heir so it all came to him."
"Imagine if they knew what he was spending it on."
"Oh, they had an idea about him. I mean, he was straight-acting. He wasn't some simpering queen, but year after year of the 'I just haven't met the right girl' excuse and they finally had enough. They married him off to this other bigwig's rich daughter. No big surprise it didn't last- and they didn't have kids.
And the other thing was, until I came along, he hadn't spent any of it, he told me. He said he didn't have anyone to spend it on- so he hadn't been able to enjoy it. Then suddenly there's this pathetic, dead broke kid in his life, and for the first time he has the opportunity to play freakin Santa Claus. He totally got off on that- spending it on me."
"He bought you things?"
"Ya. I think that's pretty much the definition of a sugar daddy, isn't it?"
"Like what things?"
"Whatever I wanted. I mean, I tried not to take too much advantage. I think the most expensive thing I bought was a new amp for my guitar. The rest was just clothes, records, books, stuff like that. And I went and saw bands all the time, movies."
"Did he ever go with you?"
"Not at first, no."
"Why?"
"Because it wasn't that kind of a relationship in the beginning. He was like my … mentor. Besides, we were decades apart- how much could we have had in common?"
"Well, an interest in sex."
"But even that was like mentoring. You know, there are primitive tribes that for centuries have had older men initiate young boys. I wasn't technically a virgin, I didn't need to be 'initiated', but he did teach me a huge amount sexually."
I shake my head slowly.
"I'm sorry. It just makes me incredibly uncomfortable, the thought of this older guy touching you when you were so young. I'm amazed you don't see this in a more negative light, especially given your history."
He looks at me angrily.
"Brian, do you honestly think for a single second that if I'd felt like I was being molested that I would have gone back there?"
"Maybe you were confused. You were just a kid."
"No, I guarantee you, there would have been no confusion. I've been through it; you haven't."
We begin shouting.
"But he was paying you! You had no place to live and you needed money; you were desperate, and he took advantage of that!"
"No he didn't! I could've left whenever I wanted! I would have found someplace to crash! I always did!"
"Curt, he was deep throating a 17 year old boy!"
"Ya, and the 17 year old boy got really good at it! Not to mention, he was paid handsomely! What's wrong, Brian, are you jealous?"
Ouch. We look at each other. We don't speak for a couple of minutes, in an attempt to cool down.
"Curt, you know what I'm saying. You can't expect me to like the sound of it."
"But it's because you didn't know him, or I haven't been imparting the story well enough. Brian, I was a fractured, broken, kid and he provided the one thing in the world I was desperate for, but didn't even realize: stability. And in the meantime, he was nurturing, he was incredibly gentle and kind, he never bullshitted me, he never pressured me. He constantly gave me an out in case I wanted to go. For what he asked of me, I got tons and tons in return, and I don't just mean the money.
And the thing about the money is, the truth was, if he'd stopped paying me, I still would have stayed. The money was a way to get me in the door, yes, but from that point on, it wasn't the most important thing. It was having somebody that cared, that actually gave a shit, that watched out for me. And he genuinely did. He brought me to the doctor when I had the flu, and he stayed home from work and took care of me and cleaned up the vomit and gave me aspirin and ginger ale and all that. He didn't boot me out the door and tell me to go fuck myself. He helped me set up a bank account for the money for fuck's sake, in my own name, first one I'd ever had, and he talked to me about saving it and being smart with it. Being a teacher, he helped me get my GED after I dropped out. He made sure I studied and that I passed; there was no way I would have done that, otherwise. Even my father didn't give enough of a shit to do that. Did you know that he never even once sought me out to find out what happened to me after he threw me out of the house? Nobody in my family did.
And also, this guy, he never talked to me the way adults always did, like I was an idiot just cuz I was young; he talked to me like an equal. He turned me on to art, and museums, and stuff like that. There were dozens of examples. The sex, especially as time passed, was pretty fucking nice, but it was just the gravy."
I squint.
"So you had sex with him? It wasn't just oral?"
"Okay, like I think, good as deep throat may be, it would get pretty fucking tedious, not to mention jaw-breaking, after 6 months."
"Six MONTHS ! ?"
He laughs.
"You lived with him for 6 months ?"
"Yes, Brian. How long did you think I lived there?"
"Well I never imagined 6 months! Holy shit! That was a big chunk of your life up til that point!"
"Ya, I guess it was."
I'm mulling it over, tapping my fingers on the table. It's on the tip of my tongue. There's a long pause but I can't bring myself to spit it out.
"What, Brian? Ask."
"You don't have to answer. I can't help but be curious about this. What happened, I mean … there's no way to put this gently. What happened with the deep throat? In the beginning I mean. And why did it stop?"
"Well, it never really stopped, it just wasn't every single day like it had been in the beginning."
"Jesus, every single day. Fucking animal!"
"Brian, will you quit with that shit! How many times do I have to tell you I willingly partook in it ? There was no victim here, much as you seem to want to think there was."
"Alright, alright! I'm sorry. Go on."
"You sure about that?"
"Yes, tell me the fucking story."
He sighs.
"Well, the deal was … we'd go to bed, our own beds, in our own rooms. And at some point in the night, he'd open my door and the hallway light would usually wake me up- I was a light sleeper even back then.
I think he liked the middle of the night thing because it had that element of spontaneity. Most people, they get in bed, they fuck, they go to sleep. Dull. Routine.
So, the first night, I was like way too fucking nervous and starting to wonder what the fuck I'd gotten myself in to. I'm lying awake staring in the dark at the ceiling for like hours. Then the door opens and I practically leap off the bed. I actually stood up on it, bolt upright, and I'm breathing pretty hard. Just nervous out of my mind."
"Awful! That's enough! I don't wanna hear anymore."
"Brian, for fuck's sake, come on, you didn't expect I wouldn't have been nervous the first time, would you? I'm just being honest. But I promise you, it wasn't like that the whole way, okay? Relax."
"Okay, okay. I still wanna murder this guy, but go on."
"So he walks in, and I remember he had on a robe, a tshirt, and some sort of pajama bottoms. Nothing too sexy, I can assure you. But like I said, he was fairly attractive. He was fit, he had a full head of hair, nice eyes. Not bad to look at. At least he wasn't some creepy drooling fat guy.
Anyway, I'm standing there on the bed, in my boxers. I used to sleep nude even then, but I wasn't about to in his house.
And he looks at me and he asks if I'm okay and I said 'ya', I'm sure, but I must have had that total deer in headlights look. He said, look, Curt, it's okay if you're not comfortable with this, we don't have to do this right now. He said he was patient and he'd wait until I was ready, we could skip it, if I wanted.
So suddenly I get scared and I'm thinking I'm blowing the whole thing. He's gonna cancel the whole deal if I don't get my ass in gear quick, and there goes all my money. So I climbed off the bed and I sat on the edge and I forced myself to speak calmly, and I said I was alright, really, I was a little nervous, but I was okay. Totally lying of course, but …
So he said, it's okay to be nervous. He said he was too, which blew my mind. I just didn't expect that for some reason. And he said again, are you absolutely sure? And I said yes, and said something like, what do you want me to do?
And he said lie down on the bed like you were. He was standing at the head of the bed, right by the door. So I did. He looked down at me and he was quiet for a minute.
And then he started talking, believe it or not, about anatomy, and physiology and shit. But see, that was his passion, and the subjects he taught at school. He talked about it all the time. Even though I didn't take any of his classes, to this day I can still recite the names of the 8 bones in the wrist. But at that moment I was like, what the fuck is this shit? He started to say how flawed the design was, that the human mouth is at a 90 degree angle to the throat, but how that was easily remedied by tilting the head backward."
"Jesus Christ."
"Ya, but I didn't really understand what the fuck he was getting at. I'm like, what does that have to do with anything? And he said Curt, men have this innate, instinctual drive to plunge themselves deep into a cavity, right? And I said ya. He said it's no different with oral- we still have this need to go deep, but we can't all that easily, because of the flawed design. That's where the head tilting comes in.
And I'm like, okay. I still didn't understand how it would work.
So he looked at me and he said, are you still okay about this? And I said ya. He said are you absolutely sure, that he wanted me to be comfortable, and I totally lied again and said I was cool with it.
And he said okay, I just need you to move down the mattress until your head is off the edge, so I did. And then he had me move further cuz I hadn't gone far enough. So now everything from my point of view was upside down, of course, which was kinda weird. And he pulled this little miniature padded stool out and placed it under me, so that the top of my head was resting on it, just for comfort. He was a detail person, can you tell?"
"Umm, ya."
"And shit, my heart was banging like a fucking racehorse, I was so fucking nervous. I remember he opened his robe and I was looking upside at those loose pajama bottoms and for the first time I could see his erection, which was right at the exact level.
And he said to me Curt, this is probably going to feel weird to you, and a bit uncomfortable, so there's a couple of things we can do. He said he had this stuff that would temporarily numb the back of my mouth- a small squirt bottle. He said he had a friend who was a dentist and he promised me it was totally safe to use, they used it all the time at his friend's practice. He said it was up to me, but that it would make things a lot easier for both of us. So I took a few squirts and it was almost like a bit of novacaine- it numbed it up back there, which was definitely strange, but I could see the advantage in it.
Then he said okay, if you need to signal me about anything or if you want me to stop, raise your hand and I'll stop. If you want me to pull out, raise both hands. If you have any trouble at all or if you decide you can't do this, please let me know right away, I don't want to ever feel like you weren't okay with this.
So do you see what I mean, Brian? This was typical of him- he was incredibly sensitive and attentive."
"Ya, I guess. I still don't like it, but … go on."
He sighs.
"So then the final thing he said was, I should try and breathe on the outstroke."
"Shit! That's heavy."
"Ya. He said I would pick up the rhythm, and it shouldn't be a problem. And then … he took out his cock, which, I have to say, was a very decent size. It was sort of the last thing I wanted right then- I guess I'd been hoping it would be this pencil dick."
"Oh, Curt."
"And he approached, and the funny thing was, I'm so nervous and this is so weird, the hanging upside down thing, that I didn't even think. He had to actually ask me to open my mouth."
He laughs. I smile despite myself.
"So obviously … I did and he … went in and … I shut my eyes. He was clean at least- he was very meticulous about that stuff.
And I just remember he went really slow, it was this very … gradual entry and, oh shit, I forgot to tell you. He gave me one more tip beforehand: he said to go into a yawn, because it opens up the back of your throat."
"Huh?"
"It's true- next time you yawn, look in the mirror. It creates like a 2 inch cavity back there."
"Wow, I never knew."
"Ya. So as he continued, I went into a yawn, and he pushed into it, and there was just this feeling of being … filled up. He held his ball sac away, cuz I think it would have smothered me otherwise."
"God! I can't believe what I'm hearing. Did you not gag?"
"A little at first, but then the urge passed. The stuff I'd taken numbed me up pretty well."
"Fuck, I guess."
"And then, I mean, … it was pretty overwhelming. I immediately realized how worlds different this was from any oral I'd ever known. This was like seriously advanced stuff and it took like 1000% of your concentration and focus. I didn't like it all that much at first; it was fucked up and strange, but then, there was no way for me to be objective about it at that point- I was too caught up in it, literally. It was only with time that I began to appreciate and understand the erotic side to it, that feeling of being possessed, and 'taken', and stuff.
So, he says to me you're doing amazingly well; he would always tell me stuff like that. And he said if it was okay with me he would like to start moving. Polite, or what? I mean, how many guys have you ever known who would ask ? And he said to raise my hand if I was okay with that. And I did. And he just pulled away and began these little baby thrusts, in and out. I was numb but I could still feel the pressure in there, just the feeling of having this cavity filled up and closed off momentarily, and I totally began the rhythmic breathing to match his strokes. Otherwise I pretty much couldn't breathe cuz he was blocking the airway."
"Fucking animal!"
"Brian, if you say that one more time I'm gonna fucking … do you want me to tell this story or not? I thought you wanted the truth and not some dressed up cleaned up version of my life? He wasn't trying to fucking suffocate me for fuck's sake, so stop throwing a fit. It was just the sheer mechanics of it. You've had cocks down your throat, don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about."
"I told you, my few attempts at this stuff were disasters–."
"–Well I guess I had a better teacher than you, didn't I?"
We're back to 2 minutes of silence while we cool off.
"Please don't snap at me because I'm protective of you, okay? I love you; I can't help it. And no matter what you say, you were just a young kid, and …"
"And this was one of the few good periods in that young kid's life. Some of it was awkward and stumbling and is probably hard to hear, but ultimately, if that kid had to do those 6 months over again, he would, in a flash. Trust me on this, Brian, okay?"
I sigh. "Okay."
"Now shall I go on or are you going to keep jumping in and protecting me?"
"Fuck off. I said I trust you, didn't I? Go ahead."
He looks up, thinking.
"Where the fuck did I leave off?"
"Thrusting."
"Oh, ya. He made these like … shallow thrusts and after, I don't know, maybe a dozen, he inhaled this big breath and then he came. I felt this fluid stuff sliding down my throat and instinctively I swallowed, but it was sort of almost past the point of swallowing. I couldn't really taste anything. I don't know, I can't really describe it. He explained it to me later but that part I never understood.
And then he carefully pulled out and he was standing there panting and I think my eyes must have been like saucers. It was a pretty huge moment. I couldn't believe I'd done it- it had worked, my very first time- I was sort of proud of that, and at the same time, I was still so nervous and freaked, and also, just exhausted; physically and emotionally spent. The whole thing took maybe 5 minutes, but to me it was like a fucking hour."
He's looking off, pensive, for long moments.
I touch his hand. "What is it?"
He speaks softly.
"It's just, it just conjures up a lot of emotions …"
"Do you wanna take a break?"
He sighs. "Ya, maybe."
We stop to have our picnic lunch, with wine, out in the lounge chairs, relaxing in the sun, tucking our toes in the warm sand, holding hands, sitting silently for long stretches, and talking for longer ones. Somehow we end up discussing 40′s Film Noir and Bogie & Bacall.
"The most gorgeous woman of all time. Really. She was sizzling hot. And smart as a bloody whip."
"Ya, AND she was fucking 19 when she met Bogie, and he was 45! So I don't feel so fucking bad about fucking 17 and 37!"
He looks off and laughs.
"What?"
"I love that I just compared myself to Lauren Bacall."
After lunch he goes for a long swim.
He returns, running a towel over his hair and body, cig ever dangling.
"How was it?"
"Fantastic. I can't believe you never go in. You do not know what you're fucking missing. I'm gonna drag you in with me next time, I swear."
"I don't think so."
He plops down next to me.
"So, shall I resume the freaking dreaded story or have you had enough for one day?"
"No. You left me at a bit of a cliffhanger. Go on."
"What cliffhanger?"
"The guy had just come."
"Oh, right. So … yes … um … I remember he was standing there, and I'm lying there looking up at him, upside down. And he says are you okay? And I said ya, I guess. And he goes to remove the little stool and says why don't you slide yourself back up on the bed, so I did. And he walked around the side of the bed. And as was typical of him, he was incredibly polite and sweet and he said that he hoped it hadn't been a bad experience for me, that he knew I was nervous but he thinks it went extremely well especially for my first time. And he said it was very exciting for him and stuff like that. And he thanked me. He always thanked me; it was sincere, but it was still a bit weird."
"Ya."
"But that was just his way. And he said goodnight, and left."
"Wow. I absolutely can't imagine. What on earth did you do?"
"I laid there stock still, like frozen in place. I couldn't relax for a long, long while. It was all so surreal! Everything, and all of it happening in the same day! I couldn't believe that like 12 hours before I'd been living in the flophouse and now here I was in this fancy antique bed with feather pillows at this guy's place- a teacher at my school! Then at some point, sleep took over I guess. I was just, phew, pooped.
In the morning, I woke up not knowing where the fuck I was. I literally thought it was a dream. I finally got up, took a shower. He had his own bathroom – it was a part of his bedroom suite, and then I had one next to my bedroom door.
In the shower I'm all a mix of confused emotions. On the one hand I was panicking thinking, how do I know any of what he's said is true? That he'll pay me and all that? How do I know he won't fucking attack me ? That whole thing again. But on the other hand … I felt okay about it. In my gut I felt like I could trust him for some reason. I always liked him, and he was just known as being a decent guy at school, somebody kids could go to with their problems, and then I was like, well maybe this is what he does to the kids that go to him! He takes them home and face-fucks them! Maybe I'm just one in a long line! And all that."
"Strictly playing devil's advocate … how do you know that wasn't the case?"
"Because it wasn't. If it had been, I would have heard about it. Stuff like that gets around lightning fast. How long do you think it was before everybody in school knew about me and my brother? People thrive on that shit."
"But then, so why were you worried?"
"It was just momentary panic, that's all, as part of that first morning after panic/freakout over the whole thing. You don't have to worry, Brian. I lived with the guy full time for 6 months. He wasn't a child molester- I know what I'm talking about."
"Okay, just I thought it was a fair question, and you raised the issue."
"I know. It is a fair question. You're right." He sighs. "Look, it's not like I advocate older men pursuing underage boys or something. I'm sure in 99% of those cases, that it is molestation and abuse. And of course I'm against that. I can only say that, in my case, I know it was not."
"Okay. I understand; I believe you. I won't bring it up again. Go on. You were in the shower pondering all that had happened."
"Um, ya. Shit, what happened. Oh … I'm running over it in my mind, the throatjob, and all that, and then I look down, and to my surprise, … I'm hard."
"Wow."
"Ya. The thing was, what we did hadn't felt sexual at all when we were doing it- not to me anyway. Not one bit. It was matter of fact, something I needed to get through. And yet in the shower, I started picturing it, and … I ended up beating off to that image."
"Hmm."
"It was like, my body understood that what had happened was sexual, it was just my brain that had to catch up, because it was all so new and strange. But when it came down to it, it was something primal, like I think oral always is- you don't get more primal than that. And you never need to explain primal to the body. That's my theory, anyway."
"So did you feel attracted to him?"
"I don't think I did in the beginning. Eventually, yes, but not then."
"So what happened? You went down to breakfast?"
"Ya, I put on my grubby clothes and walked into this clean, nice smelling kitchen, and there he was at the table grading tests. He always did that over breakfast. I was suddenly so embarrassed I started to turn around to go back upstairs, but he called after me. He said he'd made breakfast and to please come and eat, he'd just be a minute and then he had to go. So I couldn't exactly take off, y'know?
I went to the table and I just couldn't look at him; too mortified. The good thing was, he didn't really look at me either; he had his face in the tests. He told me to please sit, that my food would get cold. Like anybody's mother.
I look down, and it was a plate of pancakes and scrambled eggs, and like, orange juice, or something. And underneath, sticking out from the bottom of the plate was a crisp fucking hundred dollar bill."
"Holy shit!"
"Ya, it was completely surreal, Brian. And I don't just mean the money. The whole scene! A big hot breakfast! Nice tablecloth and matching curtains and all that? I felt like I'd just been dropped here from Mars."
"What did you do?"
"I sat down and ate!"
"Did you talk to him?"
"Not a word. Too fucking embarrassed. He talked to me a bit, though. He just said he was so glad I was still there, and he hoped I would feel comfortable in his house, and that I could stay as long as I needed, and that I could have whatever I wanted in the fridge, stuff like that. He got up and he said if I decided to go downtown, there was a bus stop 2 blocks up, and he could give me a lift to it if I wanted, but if not, that he'd left me bus fare. I just said, y'know, okay, thanks. And he left."
"So here you had a hundred dollars, and he was leaving you bus fare as well?"
"Ya, see, he thought of everything. He knew I wouldn't have been able to break the bill with the bus driver, see, and I'd be stuck at the house all day as a result."
"Unbelievable."
"Yes."
"So, how weird was it being in his house by yourself?"
"Extremely. I didn't stay long. I put on my coat and and started up the street for the bus. I was dying to spend my money, boy."
"I bet. What did you buy?"
"I went straight to Marshall's Music Shop downtown, which was my favorite record store at the time. Very first thing I bought was The Animals album, which was their first one. I'd been obsessed with The House of the Rising Sun for months."
I'm laughing.
"I thought you said the British invasion ruined music!"
He smiles.
"Well okay, not all of it. Some of it I liked, I admit. The Animals were kickass."
"What else did you buy?"
"Some other records. I can't even remember which, some 45′s I think. And I roamed around and went into some other shops, I think I priced a case for my guitar, just spent a bit of time downtown, but I didn't buy anything else.
What I remember most though, was walking up to a restaurant counter, sitting down, and ordering lunch. A sandwich and a milkshake, or I think, a coke, can't remember. Because to me, that was like, wow! That made me feel like I'd fucking arrived, or something. Because I had never once had money to do shit like that, not ever, and certainly we never ate out when I was growing up- we couldn't afford it. Eating out to me was what people did in the movies, and so to be able to do that myself was just, huge."
"How were you emotionally by this point? Did it all hit?"
"When I sat down to eat, I was no longer distracted, so, yes, that's when it hit. The sort of, enormity of the last 24 hours. I was sort of weighing my options, which when I weighed them, I mean, there was no contest. Yes, I could have gone back to living with 15 people in a big empty room, or maybe I could have hooked up with somebody from school, like a roommate situation, though I'd pretty much lost contact with people. I could have scrounged up a job. I'd had jobs, little tiny shitty ones like working at a car wash, that I kept getting fired from. The guy would rehire me because people kept quitting, and then when he had enough employees I'd be fired again. But I don't blame him. I was unreliable, and I had such a motherfucking chip on my shoulder when it came to being told what to do. Man, you think I have a bad attitude now? You should have seen me then!"
We laugh.
"The thing was though, all I cared about was music. It was truly what kept me alive, what I absolutely clung to. I so wanted my job to be my band, but it just hadn't worked out.
So I thought, okay, those are the reasons to not leave- because my options otherwise are so poor, now what would be the reasons to stay ? Let's see: money- lots of it, a roof over my head that was a million times nicer than I'd ever seen in my life, free food, plenty of time to practice my music, and … I could always leave if I didn't like it. That last thing was what clinched it."
"What about the sex though?"
"Well, I figured, nothing is free in this world. If I have to swallow dick to earn my keep, that wasn't too much to ask, was it? I'd rather that, than the fucking carwash. I was very pragmatic about it."
"Ya."
"So, I took the bus back to the house, and I used my very own key to open the door, which was a trip in itself- that he trusted this kid with a key to his big fancy house. But anyway, I went inside and I put on the Animals record and I just blasted it. We were never allowed to play music in my house growing up, so this felt particularly amazing. And the first song on side one was House of the Rising Sun, and I couldn't get past it. I kept moving the needle back and playing it over and over and over, screaming along with it the whole way. Man, I wanted to be Eric fucking Burden. But the lyrics just kept hitting me. That very last line, "it's been the ruin of many a poor boy, and god I know I'm one." It felt so heavy, so prophetic, because I felt like I was like in the fucking house of the rising sun ! I knew I was on the edge of something, this whole deal with the guy. I knew it was a door to something, like that it would absolutely be a major dividing line in my life of some sort, but what I didn't know was, would it be bad or good? Would it 'ruin' me? It was heavy, let me tell you."
We get up to go inside. It's too windy on the beach. I start up a fire in the living room fireplace and we continue to talk, sitting on the couch, holding hands, as always.
"So …?"
"So I'm caught up in the song, I'm singing along at the top of my lungs to the point where I think tears were streaming down my face, and of course … he walks in. I had completely lost track of time- it was like 5:30. I didn't hear him cuz the music was too loud. He had a pretty fancy stereo system. So I didn't see him at first. I think he watched me until the song finished, and when I went to move the needle again, I saw him. I think I leapt like 3 feet in the air.
He said he was sorry, he didn't mean to scare me, but he didn't want to interrupt. He said I had an amazing voice. He asked me about the song, stuff like that. Which was good, it got me relaxed and talking instead of cowering in the corner. We looked at the album cover together. It was nice. I was still nervous, but it was okay.
He said he'd bought steaks and was I okay with that for dinner? I said ya. Truth was, I was like 'steak'? I'd never had it before in my life. He probably grew up with them.
So we sat at the table and had this amazing rare prime rib, and baked potatoes and like, asparagus- another thing I'd never had before. I tried not to let on though."
We laugh.
"And he asked me about my day, what did I do, what did I buy. It was just normal talk. And then there was a pause, and he said again, that he was really glad I seemed to feel comfortable there and that he wanted me to feel welcome in his home. Nice, right? And then he said he wanted to ask me something, and I just sort of froze. I knew it was gonna be about last night. He said, how are you about what happened? And I was back to not being able to look at him.
And he finally put his fork down, and he turned to me and said, look Curt, if you're uncomfortable with it, I completely understand, especially since it was your first time and this is all new and strange to you … and I blurted out that I wasn't uncomfortable with it.
He said, you're not? I said no. He said are you sure, because I'd stiffened up the minute he'd brought up the subject, … and I didn't know how to respond. It was shyness, more than discomfort, that was all.
He said was there something you didn't like about it? He really wanted to know. He asked me to be honest with him.
And I looked him the eye and said it felt … strange and I'd been really nervous and that probably hadn't helped things, but I thought it went okay and I didn't hate it.
And he laughed, and he said he thought it had gone well too, he'd thought I'd been amazing. And then he said, after I left, were you upset or anything? And I said it just all felt really heavy to me, going through it, and it exhausted me, and I was a bit freaked.
And he said he was sorry about that.
Then he said, have you decided if you're going to stay ? And I said yes, I was. And he smiled and he said he was glad. And he said if I was gonna stay, there really had to be open lines of communication between us, he said that was extremely important. He was sort of relying on me to not shut down.
And I said I was cool with that and I agreed it was a good idea.
And anyway, we went on with dinner and talked about non-hot topics, like school and shit like that, and it was okay from there.
The steak was amazing by the way. He told me later that it was a celebratory steak, like the best, most expensive one the shop had, to honor our first time."
"Awww. That's so sweet."
He smiles.
"I know. The man was a total romantic."
I poke at the fire.
"So the second night, what on earth was that like?"
"The second night was a lot better, because I obviously knew what to expect and all that. After dinner he went into his office and did research and stuff for his class assignments, and I sat in the living room and watched tv and read this book I'd been reading.
Then I went upstairs afterwards and fiddled with my guitar on the bed, and later went to sleep. And at some point, the door opened."
"God, this is just so unbelievable."
"I know. It's funny too, because you don't picture a 37 year old man, a teacher no less, having this nightly need to get off, do you? Or at least, I didn't think that existed, when I was that age. Fuck, I could get off every single night of my life right now and I'm 25- I wonder what I'll be like in 12 years?"
I smile. "Probably the same. Me too. I mean, it's not like he was retirement age. 37 isn't that old, especially if you're fit … and you have a young Curt Wild directly across the hall."
We laugh.
"Fuck off, Brian. The age difference was really a bonus later on when we began fucking. Because he took so much longer to come than I did. I would literally be on my 3rd or 4th one by the time he was having his first."
"Jesus christ. 4 to 1? What time frame are we talking here?"
"I don't know- 20 minutes."
"Ahhh, I remember those once-every-5-minutes days. I was stupid, I should have hooked up with an old guy too."
We laugh.
"So anyway, tell me about the 2nd night. I'm fascinated by this."
"Well, the door opened, and the light woke me up. At least this time I'd actually been asleep and not lying in bed terrified."
"Did you ever have any idea what time it was when he would walk in by the way?"
"It varied, I think. Remember, this was about spontaneity. I think that night it was maybe 1 or 2 in the morning. I don't know for sure."
"Wow, so you would have been dead to the world, right?"
"Ya. Which did sort of make it more exciting, because I didn't have time to panic ahead of time or whatever. It was like, okay wake up, now here's my cock. No, I'm exaggerating obviously."
"So …?"
"So he walked in, I woke up, and I think he asked me if this was okay for me. In the beginning he would check in with me all the time. He was so uncomfortable with the idea of my feeling forced, I think. Anyway, I said ya.
I slid myself down and dropped my head over the edge, and he moved the little support stool in place, and I squirted the throat numbing stuff, and I looked, and there was his cock again, raging and swollen. Wow. I was pissed off that it still looked huge to me. I'd been telling myself it had only been my imagination, because I'd been so scared, but it wasn't.
So he approached, and I remembered to open my mouth this time, and he reminded me of the hand signals and the yawn and all that, and he … went in. Slowly, it was always slow and careful- any other way with deeping and I think you're asking for trouble.
And as he moved in, I yawned and held it, and he pushed into that space again and I almost fucking gagged. The tip had hit the back wall- he pushed a little too far and it was suddenly like, oh no, oh fuck, here it comes, I am absolutely gonna gag, and I did a little, but I was focusing so hard and concentrating, that I was able to sort of stop it.
And he was all apologetic and stuff- I think he was embarrassed. I mean, how awkward that moment must have been … but anyway, somehow I relayed the message to him to just, y'know, go ahead and do it … and he began moving. He didn't ask this time. I guess he knew I'd throw up a hand signal if there were any more issues. He pulled back a bit more than the first night, from what I recall, so the thrusts were longer, but not deeper, like. He was already in my throat so …
And I just remember focusing on the breathing, and keeping my teeth away, and all that, and y'know, some time later, it wasn't all that long, he came. It was a sign of how much he got off on deeping, that he would come that quick, y'know, since it would take him like 20 or 30 minutes when he was in your ass. Oral was definitely it for him. Can't say I disagree with him there."
We share a smile.
"But anyway, I swallowed and again didn't really taste anything, it was almost like clearing your throat rather than swallowing, which was fine with me, I mean, I don't care who you are, who likes the taste of come? It's foul stuff."
"Okay, so that leads me to a question. You did this 7 nights a week, at least in the beginning, right?"
"Yes, a few times it was twice in a night."
"Jesus Christ! He wouldn't even let you sleep!"
He smiles. "He was madly in love with my mouth, what can I say?"
"Okay, but Curt, you were swallowing the whole time, right?"
"Yes indeed."
"Did it not make you, like, sick? I mean, did it bother you physically? Ingesting that much?"
"Um well, see, the good thing about doing it every night was that he never had a big load, it was maybe like a teaspoon or something, because it was being drained every day."
I wince. "Jesus, you have a foul mouth."
We laugh.
"So anyway, continue."
"Well, y'know, what can I say? It was the same story. It felt fucked up and it was a bit scary to have to watch your breathing and to be upside down and possessed like that, but it was all told, I don't know, maybe 4 or 5 minutes, and it was done. He pulled out, he thanked me and made sure I was okay, he said I'd done really well and it had been incredibly exciting for him, and then he left."
"Was this one of the 2 times nights?"
"No, that was a few nights later."
"Shit. Did he at least warn you about it at all?"
"He hinted to me about it that day. And the nice thing was, the next morning I come down to breakfast, and oila, there's not one, but TWO hundred dollar bills under my plate!"
"Fuck!"
"So I definitely didn't mind. Plus, I got hard with the 2nd one, and I pretty much did, from then on."
"Oh my, did he notice ?"
"Yes. He told me later how exciting that was, that it was like a dream come true for him that I would find it arousing."
"But did he … do anything?"
"Not for the first coupla weeks. I think he was desperately trying to keep his promise that he wouldn't touch me and that there would be no 'sex', per se. But it finally broke him down, the sight of my cock sticking straight up out of my boxers."
"Oh god, you're kidding!"
"No."
We laugh.
"So how did he, uh, broach the subject?"
"Well, on that night he finished his business, and instead of leaving like he always did, he walked around the side of the bed and he said could he ask me something. And I threw the sheet over me, I was so embarrassed, and I swung my legs around and sat on the side of the bed. I mean, the room was barely lit, so I figured he wouldn't have seen it.
And he just came right out with it and said, I'd like to know if you'd object to me returning the favor."
"Wow!"
"And I got all embarrassed and said no, thanks, I was fine, or something. Meanwhile my cock was pounding away under the sheet, boy!
And he crouched down in front of me, I'll never forget it, and he said are you absolutely sure? Because nothing would bring me more pleasure right now, than to bring you pleasure."
"Shit!"
"Ya, and now, fuck, I mean, I definitely wanted it, but … I hesitated. Because it was another threshold moment that I was scared to cross. And, then … this was one of the few times he didn't wait for my permission, he just knelt down, and reached for the sheet and pulled it slowly away, bit by bit, it was all in a pile in my lap, and, fuck … I didn't know what to do. I was so hot for it, but I was so fucking nervous. I remember my arms were by my side and I sort of leaned back a little and shut my eyes, and when he saw that, I mean, that was permission."
"Surrender."
"Ya, surrender. He pulled the last of the sheet back, and he leaned down, and it was like, … holy fucking jesus. I mean, I'd been blown before, right? And when you're 17, it takes you what, 20, 30 seconds when somebody's mouth is on you? He got me to last I think a full 5 minutes."
"Shit. How, by squeezing?"
"No, just by … slowly, I mean really slowly licking the shaft, and very, very studious avoidance of the head. Believe me, it was like the most delicious slow torture I'd ever experienced, for sure. I did not know til that moment what the fuck a blowjob was. By the time he put his mouth over the tip I was pouring fucking sweat. I think if he hadn't been in the way I would have shot off clear across to the other end of the house. I lasted maybe 10 more seconds, and I just came like fucking bottle rockets.
The funniest thing of all was, he wasn't expecting it when it hit, so some of it went down the wrong pipe, and he ended up bent over, coughing, and laughing at the same time."
We both laugh.
"I was horrified of course. I was like, oh no, I totally ruined it, and I kept apologizing. I felt like such a dolt. I couldn't figure why he was laughing. And he said no, it's okay. And he looked at me and he had this huge grin, and he said it was fantastic, that it had been his fault, he should have been more prepared, and he didn't mind gagging on come one bit."
"Is there where you –?"
He smiles. "Yes. Like I said, he was my mentor, sexual, and otherwise. I'll never forget how happy he looked. He was like absolutely elated. And he said I had such a beautiful cock and I should never be embarrassed about becoming aroused. He said sex was good. He said it was natural and right and beautiful, it was just society that got it backwards and twisted it around and tried to say it was bad and wrong.
All incredibly lovely things, right? He was amazing. He had no idea how powerful those words were to me, because I'd developed such twisted ideas about sex because of my brother, and hearing that was like a fucking door opening up in my soul, or the weather breaking. It was positively monumental. Like, healing."
I squeeze his hand.
"So anyway, he got up, and he thanked me again, and he said goodnight. And in the morning, on the table … was five hundred dollars."
My hand flies to my mouth. I whisper. "God! I think he was really in love with you."
He nods quickly. "I think by that time he probably was, ya."