And In The End...

It's been both fun and somewhat therapeutic keeping this blog for the past couple of years, but for the most part the tales have been told and the story is over.

For those of you that need resolution, this is for you.

Andy: is alive and well and living in New York City. He owns a small successful business and has been in a committed relationship for almost ten years now. We see each other about twice a year.

Stu: passed away this past March. His sister called to give me the news. He committed suicide, there was no note and those close to him say that they had no idea what might have caused him to do this. In keeping with his wishes, there was no ceremony. He had been living in New England doing freelance illustrating as well as computer graphics at the time of his death.

Needless to say, I was devastated when I heard this. He was my first true love.

I hope he has found peace.

Chris: has been married three times. He has two daughters from his first and second marriage. He is currently divorced and still lives in Colorado where he manages a software distribution company.

I got an email from him when Stu died, it was the first time I had heard from him since 1986. He asked me to come see him in Colorado. I turned down his invitation but wished him well.

Van: still works with me. He is doing very well and recently met a guy that he is head over heels for (took him long enough!).

Aaron: I only heard from Aaron once after my time in L.A., and that was a phone call in early 1978. I have no idea what became of him. I hope he is well and happy.

Jon: moved to Europe in the early 90's and last I heard, he is now living happily in London working for the BBC.

Rick: and I are still together. He is still the most beautiful guy I have ever met, and has been my rock these many years. He hates this blog, by the way, and is always threatening to delete it!

Be that as it may, we have now been together for over twenty years - which has got to be some kind of record for a gay couple. I still love him like I've never loved anyone. He is one in a million and I am damn lucky to have him.


and that, as they say. is that.

Thanks for reading the Milkman's Baby.

Speak Your Mind

Comments are now enabled...don't be shy.

Link Me

I made up a few buttons/banners for this blog. If any of you would like to link here, feel free to steal one of them and hyperlink to this site.

Email me if you decide to use one.

I'll return the favor and link your site to mine!

Thanks and enjoy.

brief button

hippie heaven

kiss me

locker room banner

mike's bottle

Milk Mail/F.A.Q.

Thanks for the fan mail guys (and several gals). I wanted to take this time to answer a few questions from those who are enjoying these sordid tales of my past.


Q: Why, "The Milkman's Baby?"
A: People of a certain age will recall the old joke about 'The Milkman's Baby' - as it turns out, I am the punchline of that old joke.

Q: What is the basic chronology of these stories?
A: They start in 1976 when I was fresh out of high school. 1977 was the Summer I lived with Stu, as well as the late fall and early winter of my time in L.A. 78 through 80 were a kind of free time when I was trying to "find myself". 80 to 84 were my college years (when I spent most of my time with Chris), and after college, a bit more exploration until I met Rick in 1986.

Q: Are all of these stories true?
A: With the exception of one tale I have weaved here, all of these are true stories.

Q: What was it like to be a gay man in the late 70's?
A: It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. Frankly, you needed to be much more discrete than gays and lesbians are today. However, there were major burgeoning gay communities that were blossoming in the larger cities; but if you lived in the suburbs, or small towns, you did best to keep a low profile or pretend that you were straight.

Q: Do you still keep in touch with Andy, Stu and Chris?
A: I have not seen Stu since 1990 - he sends an Xmas card every year and an occasional e-mail. Chris is remarried and I have not seen him since his first wedding. I see Andy often. He is doing well.

Q: Have you ever told Andy, Stu or Chris about this blog?
A: Andy has seen the blog and he likes it. He has told me that he has toyed with the idea of creating a similar sexual electronic memoir, but so far he has not (and that's a shame, because he is the most gifted writer I've ever read). Stu and Chris, to the best of my knowledge, know nothing about this blog.

Q: What ever happened to Rick?
A: We are still together -- twenty years this summer! And yes, he's read the blog.

Q: Why do the pictures that represent Rick bear a startling resemblance to Topher Grace?
A: Because Rick looked like (and still resembles) Topher.

Q: In the Lost in Babylon series you make mention of a certain movie-star. Are you talking about Paul Newman?
A: Maybe. Maybe not.

Q: Did you really turn tricks in Los Angeles?
A: Sadly, this is very true. In retrospect I realise how foolhardy my actions were. But I was very young and very horny. I DO NOT condone anyone taking up that profession lest he or she has a strong spirit and stomach. And even then, I'd strongly urge another path.

Q: With all of your sexual escapades how did you not contract HIV?
A: Dumb fucking luck.

Q: What's up with all the wrestling?
A: Stu, Andy, Chris and I always got together to wrestle as a prelude to sex. It was something that the four of us found really hot (as a form of foreplay), this carried on and has been a fetish of mine since.

Q: Did you and Chris really have an S&M relationship?
A: Our relationship was one fucked up affair. There was a lot of anger, I suspect, on both our parts and so sex was often a very physical and violent affair -- but I do want to stress, it was consensual on both our parts!

Q: Actually, your grammar and writing style is very poor...
A: Sorry about that chief, read something else then; I never claimed to be Faulkner!

Q: The pictures used to illustrate your porn are cool. How do you do make them?
A: Free Internet porn and Paint Shop Pro!

White Trash

Spring of 1984 found me with an overdue term paper, a demanding part time job at a non profit citizen's advocacy organization and a major case of blue balls. School and work had conspired against my sex life as my days were filled with classes and my nights were filled with mind-numbing paperwork and a client case load that was beyond the scope of mere mortals.

The job entailed problem solving for less fortunate families in a very rural section of New Jersey. Many of the folks I served were poor, un-educated and generally ill equipped to deal with the many problems that modern life can heap upon the rank and file.

The VanRay brothers were part of this special case-load. Jimmy and Aaron VanRay lived in, what is best described as a shack, in rural Cumberland County New Jersey. They'd both been in trouble with the law since anyone could remember, their folks long gone, and their prospects seemed dim at best.

I met the VanRay brothers when they came into my office. The oldest, Jimmy was a tough customer; he was out on parole for breaking and entering and wanted desperately to avoid anymore time in jail. When he was younger he'd spent several years in juvie and a year before I got his case he had spent six months in county lock up for drug possession. Meanwhile, his little brother, Aaron, just six months after his 18th birthday was staring at a drunk driving conviction as well as a suspended license.

The brothers came to me to plead their case. They wanted their transgressions forgiven so that they could move on...or so they said.

If memory serves, Jimmy put it thusly, "We been fucked-over since Mamma left ten years ago. Now alls I got left is my baby brother and I don't want for him to be no cocksucker in prison. Aint there something we can do to take car of these problems with out going to jail?"

I sighed as I measured up these two pieces of white trash. Jimmy with his jet black hair and beard and those crazed looking eyes of his. He looked like a toned down Charles Manson, or a biker dude with out a bike. Aaron, on the other hand, was one of those angels with dirty faces. A head full of beautiful blond hair and piercing blue eyes, you could drown in those eyes ... but I had work to do.

A quick review of this case proved that the Brother's VanRay were going to have to really clean up their collective ways if they did not want the courts to lock them away. I told them what had to be done. I explained that Aaron had to go into rehab, pronto while Jimmy was going to have to agree to fifteen hours a day of community service as well as entering a work program and agree to random drug testing.

I might as well have told them that they had to sing Lithuanian folk songs.

Jimmy's spooky eyes seemed to darken when he said, "Sir, I can’t be doing all that, whose gonna take care of my baby brother? And Aaron, he aint got no call to be sitting around with stoners and boozers. Aint there something else we can do?"

Aaron smiled at me and winked.

I had a feeling that I knew what was coming next and then Jimmy sealed it, "My little brother he'd take nice care of you," he said, his voice dripping with promise, "I mean we aint no faggots, but Jimmy can give head like a fucking hooker, I should know. He's been sucking my wad for years... "

In my mind's eye I saw the blond angel going down on me, lapping and slurping while his big brother stood above us, cock dripping wet. Maybe while I was getting head, I could watch Jimmy fuck Aaron; that would have been hot...

"Sorry boys", I said as I moved in closer to my desk not wanting the hard-on I was sporting to be revealed, "that is not going to fly", I handed them the documents and explained that if they'd not agree to the terms, they'd both be in lock up in twenty four hours.

The Brothers stood, and with a dejected look Aaron took the papers from my desk; yes he was beautiful. Jimmy just shrugged and said, "Could have been fun, man." and they headed for my office door -- oh yes, I checked out their packages and their butts...not to shabby...but, well blue balls be damned, everyone has a moral line they do not cross, but damned if I did not lock myself in the bathroom for an hour after the VanRay brothers left dreaming up my own little white trash fantasy…

And I Thought He Was Straight {2}

That same summer I was working at that warehouse in Delaware, I was renting a small apartment in Southern New Jersey. I was on the third floor of an old Victorian home on a small street that was lined with majestic oak trees. The back yard of the house I lived in had a huge garden and lawn that the owner and his wife ( a sweet older couple) took care of. I can still recall that garden with its rosebushes and trellis that were overrun with morning glories and hollyhocks. It looked like a painting.

In early August of that summer, the landlord’s wife fell and broke her leg. The landlord, Mr. Grayson asked some of the tenants if they would help him maintain the lawn as he had to look after his wife. He offered us a cut on the month’s rent, and everyone agreed. There were four other tenants at the house.

I agreed to cut the back lawn on Thursday nights.

The second Thursday I did this, Mr. Grayson introduced me to his nephew, Grant. Grant was a handsome, cocky guy but he seemed irritated at everything; like he had this giant chip on his shoulders. Nonetheless, he was supposed to help me with my Thursday night endeavor. We agreed that while I cut, he would rake. And so I began and went about my business. A half an hour later, I was done but I saw no sign of raked clippings, and no sign of Grant. I resigned myself to the fact that this punk was to be of no help and I rolled the lawnmower back to the shed and would grab the rake and clean up on my own.

About three feet from the shed’s entrance I caught a view of Grant standing with his pants down around his ankles, his cock in his hand, jerking off. He was looking down in earnest at something on the floor of the shed, a porn magazine I’d deuced. I watched him for a few seconds because, well because I was a horny bastard, but after a few minutes I got bored and left him to it and went into the house to cool off. A little while later, Grant came in, all flushed and asked me where the rake was. I told him it was in the shed. He blushed and went outside to retrieve it. Spying him hard at work in the back of the yard, I went back outside, and brought the lawnmower to the shed and as I was about to leave , I saw the magazine on the floor…there splayed out was a copy of Playgirl opened to the centerfold of some airbrushed Adonis with a flaccid penis and a look of mischief in his blue eyes. So, how about that, Grant was getting off on naked men. Maybe I’d better go have a talk with him. Well, as it turns out, Grant was married and had three children, and all I could think was that his wife was going to be in for a rude awaking some day. Oh, and no, I never had sex with him, for all of his looks, he had the personality of a bathmat …

And I Thought He Was Straight {1}

His name was Matt and he worked with me during the summer of 1979 at a warehouse in Delaware. All day long we loaded and unloaded trucks of farm produce. Our shift ran from six in the morning until noon. It was hard, back breaking work, but it paid well and we had nights and weekends off. Plus there was the added bonus of the physical labor's assistance in keeping one fit. One Friday, Matt and I went and grabbed a couple of beers after work. We had a nice enough time at the old tap room called the Clearwell Inn. It was situated off the main road and sat back in the woods. As we sat the bar I took a good look at my co-worker. He was a compact guy with broad shoulders and a thick neck. He had nice full beard and wavy chestnut hair. I don't think he had any idea how hot he was. Anyway, we talked about nothing and everything and eventually he told me about his wife-to-be. "Oh well," I thought, "Look but don't touch, this one is a breeder". Later on, it must have been around five or six, we had had enough to drink and were heading out to the cars. He asked if I could drive him home, he did not want to chance driving drunk. I had paced myself and felt up to the venture and obliged him. When we got back to the little farm house he was renting in Salem New Jersey he asked me in. We entered the back door into the kitchen and as soon as we were inside he took his shirt off and revealed a beefy chest. This made me uncomfortable because I knew he was straight and I did not want to stare, but before I could do anything, he grabbed my crotch and said, "So I've been checking out your package for a few weeks now, let's see what you got down there". I was stunned, and though I wanted nothing more than to rock and roll with this husky stud, I knew that it all felt inherently wrong -- I can't say why, I just felt that for the first time in my life, I should really look the gift horse in the mouth and walk away. I firmly removed his hand and smiled, "Ah, no thanks, Matt, you don't need to experiment with me, don't you have a girlfriend?" He shrugged his shoulders and sighed, "Sorry man, I just thought there's no harm in asking". I smiled back and made my exit. When I got home that night I jerked off about three times thinking about him and what might have been. The following Monday when I showed up for work, the foreman pulled me aside and said that Matt had quit; to this day, I wonder if I was the cause of that...