Lost in Babylon (part four)

1: Sugar Baby Love

We were at the beach ... mid November, the temperature a balmy 82 degrees, and Aaron and I spent the early afternoon sun bathing and swimming the warm waters of the Pacific in Malibu.

Frankly, I'd never seen a shore line as beautiful as this one. In Jersey we had our beaches, our Wildwoods, our Long Beach Islands, our Atlantic and Ocean Cities ... but this was something else, this was paradise complete with palm trees, and tanned beautiful people and sand dunes ... oh man the sand dunes...

Around three-o-clock or so, the both of us pretty baked by the warm California sun, and the smell of coco butter hanging heavy, Aaron, who was lying on a blanket next to me said, "Want to go find a dune and fuck?" I was shocked for a second and said, "But won't some one see?" He smiled his crooked mischievous grin and said, "Walt, trust me, I know a couple of spots", and with in a few minutes we were packed up heading to a secluded place that was hidden by three foot tall grass and a bramble of palm trees.

We parked Aaron's car, his old V.W. van, behind a tangle-wood of flora and slipped our swim trunks off and immediately began making out. The radio played softly; "That's The Way I Like It"... no argument there, and then Aaron pulled the rear door down, spread the blanket across it and said, "Come on Jersey boy, let me fuck the melancholy right our of you!" And god almighty, did he ever.

Aaron must have noticed the look on my face the past few days, as much as I hated to admit it, I was feeling a bit homesick - But, with his cock up my ass, the sun beating down on me, the music of the Eagles playing now, the warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air, all thoughts of the Garden State were washed away...after he came, shooting his load up my ass, I said, "OK golden boy, let me show you how we do it East Coast style," and I pushed him down and mounted him and fucked him till I climaxed, "Dreamboat Annie" by Heart softly serenading us...

We stayed on the blanket kissing for awhile, and he said to me, "Bro, I can't tell you how much I am enjoying this ... this relationship we've stumbled into."

"It is kind of neat", I said stretching and tousling his hair.

"Neat? Who are you, Annie Hall?" He said roaring with laughter.

"Fuck you, Alvy", I said poking him playfully in the ribs ... and then we kissed once more before we sat up, threw our trunks back on and got back into the car.

As we headed back to Burbank, the sun starting to set, that old song, "Sugar Baby Love" was playing on K-ROCK.

I remember thinking clearly, "Fuck New Jersey" at that moment.

2: Meanwhile

I had opened up a savings account at a small savings and loan on Alameda Avenue in Burbank and in the matter of about three weeks, I had close to two thousand stashed away .... more than I'd ever had in my young life ... sucking and fucking for dollars was a lucrative way to make money I was discovering. I also gave Aaron cash to help with the rent and food and, for the first time in my life, I felt like I had some kind of control over things.

And California was a dream land...a land of potential and fantasy, the land of sex and money...

We had a routine; Mondays and Tuesdays were off days, no hustling on these days...we'd go on road trips or sometimes just lay around the house get stoned and have sex...Wednesdays and Thursdays we'd hit the corners in downtown Hollywood and do some old school hustling; this is where we made some quick easy money. The weekends were were for appointments and private parties, we'd make most of our loot over a weekend.

Yes, the Milkman's Baby had found a way to make a living doing something he was really good at.

3: Barracuda

One morning, Aaron told me that there was this record producer in Laurel Canyon that was interested in a little one on one session with me. "He saw you at the party at the movie-star's house and has been asking around. You game?" I smiled and asked, "What's it pay?"

"That's the spirit", he said handing me the phone and a slip of paper with a number jotted down on it.

*

As I drove Lookout Mountain Ave, I got to thinking about the rock stars that lived in this area...I wondered if I'd see Joni Mitchell or maybe Frank Zappa.

The afternoon was warm, and I noted that the sun seemed particularly bright in this part of L.A.; it was as if the smog never made it to The Canyon.

Per the directions I'd received, I drove up another little side street, and pulled into the driveway of a sprawling rancher. The front gate was opened as I was told it would be. I pulled the van up behind an electric blue Sting Ray and parked, took a deep breath and said out loud, "What the fuck am I doing here?", laughed it off and remembered what Aaron, my mentor and lover had said over and over, "Remember dude, you are in control. These guys are paying you." With that mantra firmly implanted, I disembarked the van and walked to the front door of the house...the smell of pine hung heavy in the air reminding me of home for some reason.

The Record Producer answered the door and I was instantly shocked at how young he appeared. He might have been no more than twenty five or thirty, tops. He had dark hair, and a boyish face and smiled brightly as he greeted me, "And you must be Walt," he said ushering me into his home, "Come in you hot piece of ass, come in."

He handed me a joint and said, "Take your clothes off, OK?" I did as I was asked and watched as he did the same. His body was flawless, though my eye was drawn to his left thigh that was emblazoned with a tattoo of a cross. He asked if I liked his tattoo, and I nodded. "It was a gift for my wife, we both got tattoos when we married instead of exchanging rings", he stopped and sighed for a second, "Yeah, somewhere is a castrating bitch with a crucifix on her thigh, I pity the guy who makes it's acquaintance", and then he laughed and said, "Come on, let me show you around."

The house was big with lots of rooms and windows that let in natural light. It appeared that The Record Producer lived here alone. He showed me into his studio and my mouth dropped as I saw dozens of photographs of well known rock stars that lined the wall just left of the huge mixing board; here were photos of my host and Roger Daltrey, and Mick Jagger, and Grace Slick, as well as various other singers, most of them could be heard on the radio these days...as I stood examining the photos, he went to the sound board and flicked a couple of switches and some unfamiliar music began booming through the room, "These are some tapes of the next Stone's album, Mick dropped them off for me to hear." I nodded my head and before I could do or say anything else, he took me by the hand and lead me on out of the studio, down the hall to the entrance to his patio.

He lit that joint that he'd given me earlier with a pack of matches that sat on a small table by the door at the mouth of the garden. We both took a few healthy hits until he butted it out, and moved in close and said, "You are one beautiful fucker, you know that, don't you?" I think I might have blushed, but I tried to remain cool...whatever the case, his sweet talking was making my cock rise to the occasion and then he said, "If you let me fuck you, I'll give you five hundred".

I nodded, remaining cool but my heart leaped, five hundred! To get fucked by this stud, bring it on! I had no time to answer as he moved in close and said, "So can I kiss you, or don't you like that?" I said, "For five hundred, I'll kiss your wife" he smiled and said, "Oh and a sense of humor" and then we kissed.

After we kissed, he directed me down to his chest and asked me to chew on his nipples, "Bite 'em baby, suck them raw..." he said in a low tone. I clamped down on his left tit and bit at it and he let out a throaty groan and said, "Oh you fucking slut, you are going to pay for that..." Then I moved to his right nipple and did the same and pushed at the back of my head and said, "Fucker, sweet fucker, I am going to nail you so hard...keep at it, bitch".

After I made his chest sore, he pushed me down to his cock. It was uncircumcised and pretty big. It bent slightly to the right was as hard and firm as granite..."Work for your money, cock-sucker", he said as he pushed me to my knees and I happily gave him what he wanted, sucking his rod, bringing my hands around to his ass, pushing him further into my mouth. My hands on his ass, which was a hard as stone, I let a finger slip up his crack and when he felt that he roared, "Oh you little fucker, oh man, you fucking cock-sucker" ... for a moment I wondered if his neighbors might hear, but then again, that music from the studio was still blasting and if that did not bother them, surely some obscenities uttered in the heat of the moment would not... I just kept sucking the huge bent cock of The Record Producer and kept thinking of how much I was going to make for this performance.

My jaw was sore when he finally pulled me off his cock and he pushed me onto a huge lounge chair and said, "Time to get fucked, slut". I raised my ass and said, "So what the fuck are you waiting for?" He met that remark by spitting on my ass and giving me a good hard slap that actually echoed off the patio walls. I let out a yelp of surprise and pain (but you know I was digging it) and then while I lay flat on my belly, The Record Producer mounted me and proceeded to fuck me raw.

No exaggerating here, this was not love, there was no tenderness, this was an animal fuck, pure and simple, and The Record Producer was using me to get off and I was nothing more than a prop for the bastard. Every time I thought he could not possibly hurt me more with his lightening quick speed, he did. He was crushing me while he fucked me. His cock felt like a baseball bat up my ass and I started crying out, not for effect, but because this mother fucker was killing me...at one point he reached under me and started pinching my tits and in a way,that was good, because it kind of worked as a counter irritant to the fucking.

"See what happens to sluts who shake their asses around guys?" he said, his voice crazed with lust and anger.

I bit down at the chair's cushion and called him a mother fucker and he laughed and slapped my ass and somehow, someway, managed to go in deeper and I felt that I might scream so I buried my face in the cushion and thought about the money...and then I heard a dog barking somewhere off in the distance it sounded like a mad dog...The Record Producer was howling, saying something about being god, I figured that this guy was a major nut case and finally he shut up, pulled his cock out of my ass and shot a huge sticky load on my sweat covered back.

When he was through he dashed back in side for a minute, I sat up, sore and slimy and somewhat disoriented and then he appeared with my clothes tossing them at me, "Your money is in your pants pocket, you can use the shower in the pool house if you want...just leave by the back gate". He turned to go back inside and stopped for a second and said, "Oh, yeah your ass is pretty tight, so if you want to make few more bucks call me next Thursday, see ya" and he walked back into the house and I made my way to the shower.

After I was clean, I counted the money and there it was. Five one hundred dollar bills. I dressed and made my way back to the van and headed out back to Burbank, richer and sorer thanks to that fucking barracuda in Laurel Canyon.

Ice Storm

“Hurt me, hurt me real bad,” he pleaded as I secured his bound wrists to the metal pole above his head. “Shut the fuck up”, I said punching him in the face leaving him with a healthy shiner...

This is how we celebrated Rick's 20th birthday on January 11, 1988; while an ice storm was assaulting the southern half of New Jersey.

It had been a long time coming, but it was something he had begged for. For months, he had been telling me that he wanted to explore some physically demanding sexual avenues. He said that he wanted to feel what it was like to be abused; by someone he loved and trusted. I talked frankly with him and, being no stranger to hard-knock-love, warned him about the ramifications. But he persisted, in fact he insisted.

So be it.

That week before he came out to Jersey from Colorado, I set up my basement into a makeshift playroom. I had an old mattress on the floor, a Saint Andrew's Cross slapped together with a couple of pieces of heavy discarded wood planks, a collection of belts and some toys I'd purchased at an “adult store”. I confess, I was pretty turned on by the thought of all of this.

When Rick showed up that next night I told him that I had a surprise for his birthday and took him in my arms and kissed him urgently on the mouth, and then I held him tightly and said, “Are you ready?” and he simply said, “Yes”, and I showed him to the basement. Once down there, I took my shirt off and tossed it aside and smiled and then I made a fist and punched him in the face for the first time that night. He fell to the floor and glanced up at me with a look of stunned amazement; I grabbed him up by his hair threw him over my knee and yanked his jeans down and began wailing on his beautiful alabaster butt. I surprised myself with amount of abandon I spanked him , and as his ass began to glow red, I could feel his cock stiffen as it pressed against my knee cap, “Happy birthday, you little fucking bitch!” I said as I beat him, “going to make you my fucking punk tonight!”

The old furnace in the basement flared to life just then casting an orange hue to the surroundings.

I threw him back on the floor and demanded he take his clothes off, and then I led him to a space near the mattress and told him to raise his hands above his head.

“Hurt me, hurt me real bad,” he pleaded as I secured his bound wrists to the metal pole above his head. I told him to, “Shut the fuck up”, and punched him in the face again, leaving him with a healthy shiner. He remained stoic, though his body trembled and his cock, now freed from his underwear, stood straight up.

Fully secured now, I stood in front of him and spit in his face and then went for his nipples, pulling and twisting them savagely. He jerked and bucked while I continued the abuse on his tits and every time he tried to pull back, I yanked harder on them...I pulled until he opened his mouth and let out a cry of pain. I let go and gave him a second... and then sucker punched him in the gut and watched as his head lolled forward and his body jerked some more. Then I spit in his face once more.

As he hung there moaning, I went behind him and slapped his ass a few more times. Then I went to the small table near the furnace and picked up a leather strap. I stood about a half a foot back and brought the belt up and then down across his back. The cracking sound echoed through the basement and Rick cried out again, I wanted him to savor the sensation so I waited a minute, remaining silent, the only sound was that of the frozen rain pelting at the windows of the basement. Then I raised the belt and hit him again, this time he screamed, I did not wait, I flogged him in earnest; belting him across his back, his ass, his legs, his calves and then I moved to the front of him and gave him a few lashes across his chest. My cock was so hard now that it was rubbing up against the zipper of my jeans...I dropped the strap to the ground and looked as he hung from the ropes, his body covered in welts, his eyes wet with tears, his cock as hard as it could get.

I stepped behind him again, and reached under his ass to his balls and gave them a tug and then with my other hand I grabbed his hair and yanked his head back and whispered in his ear, "How do you like it, punk?" and he sobbed and gasped and said, his voice cracking, "Sir, I deserve this".

I squeezed his nuts even harder and then yanked them again until he screamed out in pain...my cock was dripping and the front of my jeans were getting wet.

I loved him so much, and I knew that he knew this as I drove my fist into the small of his back.

The only sounds now where the sounds of his moans and my heavy breath as the well as the sound of the driving freezing rain.

"Looks like I worked up a sweat, punk", I said softly, bringing my armpit up to his lips; and he obediently lapped at my perspiration, his tongue catching the sweat. I drove my pit down further on his face until his head was bent back and I said, "Good boy, lap it up". Then I let my arm slip down as I worked behind him and brought it around his neck and then choked him with with it, tensing so that my bicep bulged and cut of his air for a second. I released him and snickered as I watched his body swinging from the metal bar.

Once more I noted that his cock was still stiff - he was loving this.

Finally I freed his arms and let him fall to the floor and watched as he crawled to the mattress. I kicked at his ass softly with my work boots until he lay flat and then brought my left foot, encased in the heavy shoe, slowly down on his cock. He slammed his arms on the mattress and began pleading for me to stop. So I brought my foot down even more, with more force, I could see tears streaming down his face now and I waited for a few seconds and then lifted up and watched as he grabbed at his aching throbbing cock which was still erect.

As he lay on the floor I stood over him and said, "Now's your chance. Do you want more or do you want to quit: I'll only make this offer once". Suddenly he sat up and threw his arms around my legs and said softly, "More."

Five minutes later, Rick found himself bound to the Saint Andrew's cross, his arms and legs spread in a figure "X". I took the belt out again and this time I gave him five sharp lashes with the strap across his back - hard enough to hurt, but soft enough not to break skin . I made him count each lash and by the time he got to "Five", his voice was ragged with a timbre of suffering.

I peaked around quick and saw that his cock was still hard, in fact it was dripping a sloppy wet rope of precum.

Standing behind my lover, I reached for a cigar that was sitting on the table near the mattress. I struck a match and lit the stogie and took a deep puff, blowing smoke in Rick's direction. Slowly I wandered around to face him, his eyes, wet with tears, met mine and he licked his lips in anticipation of what I might do next. I reached for his throbbing, leaking cock and gave it a quick tug. My fingers were wet with his precum and I brought them up to his mouth and shoved them in. He sucked at my digits tasting his jizz.

I took another puff on the cigar and said softly, "Going to brand you now, bitch". He closed his eyes wincing at the thought and I leaned up to his ear and whispered, "I love you".

I moved around back and in one swift move, I brought the head of the cigar to his left ass cheek, shoving it firmly so that it would leave a perfect circle mark. He screamed again and bucked and I could hear the sound of his flesh sizzling.

I kept the cigar there for thirty seconds...I counted off under my breath...and then I dropped it to the floor and crushed out the burning stogie with my boot.

Rick was shivering in pain and I was primed and ready to fuck him raw. His ass, now with raised welts and an angry red semi-circle of burnt flesh, the mark of Cain. I spit on my on my hand and began finger his tight ass...trooper that he was, he pushed back onto my hand and his voice filled the basement as he cried out, "Now! Yes! Please sir, fuck me!!" Still feeling somewhat sadistic, I reached around his torso and up to his nipples and gave them both a good sharp pull and his head fell back on mine as he groaned, "Jeeeesuuussssss".

Released from the cross, I hold him by a handful of hair and threw him down on the workout bench and lay him flat on his belly and secured his hands to the wrought-iron legs of the bench. Without a word I dropped my pants and my cock sprang forward and out, and I spat into the palm of my hand and dive bombed his bruised and battered bum.

Like always, he was a tight, but perfect fit and I showed him no mercy; fucking him with abandon...pulling at his hair...slapping his bruised ass...laughing as he screamed out my name as he called me every conceivable abomination he could come up with -- I told him to scream it louder. Then, when I felt myself about to shoot, I pulled out and stepped in front of him, took my cock in my hand and shoved it into this mouth. Motherfucker, but he sucked like his damn life depended on it, swallowing me as I came in rivers down his gullet...he kept gagging, and I kept shoving my cock in to his sweet mouth until finally I was done.

I noticed that he was humping the workout bench, poor little fucker needed to come badly, I figured, so I undid his hands and sat him up and put my still erect penis into his mouth and told him to jerk off...he must have stroked maybe two or three times and like that his cum was shooting up and on to my thighs. He never took his mouth off my dick the whole time

When he was done I brought him forward and made him lick his seed off of me...his tongue all soft and hot worked up and down my thighs as he slurped his juice up...finally I realized the show was over and I told him to lay back on the bench for a few minutes.

"I'll be right back," I told him doing up my jeans and heading upstairs where I drew a bath and lit some candles in the bathroom.

***

Back in the basement I reached down to where he lay and took him in my arms, his body was limp cold and damp with sweat. I lifted him up and cradled him in my arms; he supported himself by putting an arm around my neck, resting his head against my chest. As we approached the steps, the heater kicked on again and for the last time that night, we were bathed in a red glow.

I walked sideways up the steps, careful not to jostle him and he brought himself closer to me by wrapping his legs around my waist and holding on tighter. It was awkward considering that Rick was my almost as tall as I was; what saved me from falling over was that he weighed about eighty pounds less than me.

Upstairs, I looked down at him as I carried him through the living room, his beautiful face, his green eyes looking up at me with such love and trust that I thought my heart might burst...I saw that his left eye was swollen where I had struck him; he looked like a fallen feather-weight boxing champ and my cock began to swell again.

In the bathroom, the only light from the dozen or so candles around the tub and on the sink, I gently lowered him into the tub which was filling with warm water. He closed his eyes as he entered the water and sighed. I took a clean cloth and dipped it into the water and slowly began washing him, soothing him, rubbing his sore abused body. He leaned back into the tub and I kissed his forehead and then I reached up to the sink and put a towel filled with ice on his left eye and he said softly, "Thank you, thank you...so much..that was the most intense thing I've ever experienced in my life" and then he closed his eyes and I took a bar of soap and began bathing him gently and I told him how much I loved him, and it was the truth; and then I looked up and saw that the bathroom window pane was covered in a sheet of ice and the tapping of the sleet sounded like bullets and I continued bathing him...

I'd laid out towels on the bed and he lay down on them and I dried him off; kissing his body as I did so and when he was dry, I lay down next to him, stroked his reddish brown hair, and then I kissed him again, I kissed the welts, the bruises, his eye and then I worked my way down his chest to his crotch to his cock which was rock hard again and before I went down on it I said, "Happy birthday, babe" and I sucked him off until he shot his load into my mouth while the ice storm continued raging outside.

Lost in Babylon (part three)

1: T.C.B.

I called my family first. Speaking with my mother, I told her that I was going to be staying in California a bit longer than I'd expected...she asked a lot of questions, I lied and told her that I just needed some more time ... she surprised me when she said, "Darling, I don't know what your up too, and maybe I really don't want to know. Just be careful and stay in touch; and after you get this, whatever it is, out of your system, just come home ... no questions."

I hung up thankful that I had such an understanding parent, but saturated with guilt that I had to lie to her ... however I could not tell her that her son had taken up with a street hustler.

I called Chris next. We talked for about an hour and he told me that he'd heard about me and Stu. I told him that I was having a ball out west, leaving out the sordid details for now, and he laughed and said, "Call me when you you get back east ... you know you'll be back."

And that was that. New Jersey was, for all intent and purposes, squared away and I was a free man in Burbank.

2: The Job of Sex / Bless Me Father

One morning after we'd smoked a bowl of hash and fucked, Aaron asked if I wanted to earn some money... I was very hesitant, because I knew what it would entail. And frankly, the more I thought of fucking for money, the less I was game. It's one thing to stumble into a situation, but it's a whole other ball game to go at it willingly. So I took a rain-check on his offer and hit the streets looking for some legitimate work.

For three days, I answered every ad in the paper I could find and the best I came up with was a gig at a little record shop off of Sunset Blvd that would pay me the mind-numbingly-outrageous amount of two dollars and thirty cents an hour. What could I do? I took the job.

I moved into Aaron's the day I got the job. That is, I brought my suitcase and duffel bag from the hotel over.

My first week at The Wax Stax, after working almost 70 hours in total, I came home with a paycheck in the amount of 140.00 dollars - no overtime, no benefits - Christ, not even a discount at the store itself.

"You ready to earn some real cash?" Aaron asked over dinner that night.

Reluctantly, I nodded my head.

For the next few days, Aaron tutored me on the fine art of hustling; The Job of Sex, is what he called it. I told him that I was not using my real name, and he agreed, "Don't worry dude, you'll always be Walt". We went shopping one day, and Aaron picked out some jeans, one size smaller than I wore, as well as some form fitting shirts, underwear and even sneakers, "Think of these as your work clothes", he said as we strolled out of the small shop on Hollywood Blvd.

Our first gig, I soon discovered, was one of Aaron's regulars; a catholic priest from a parish in Glendale. "This is as an easy hundred for the both of us, and you won't have to do much more than watch ... see, he likes to give me head while someone is watching," he said going through his closet pulling out some shirts and pants, "I usually give one of the guys a call for this, but fuck 'em, we're a team, dude." He paused for a moment as he tossed me a crisp white shirt and a pair of black slacks, "I think we wear about the same size ... try these on".

A few moments later I was dressed like I was going to a funeral; conservative clothes with a black sports coat and tie. I noted that the pants fit a bit snug and Aaron told me to forgo underwear, so I pretty much looked like the pants were painted on me.

I paced the living room waiting and Aaron came out in the same get up, he looked like a young wall-street banker type. I told him I was really nervous and he reached into his jacket pocket and came close to me and whispered, "I figured as much, swallow this." and with that he placed a half a pill on my tongue which I accepted, "Half a lude, mellows you out some but it it'll keep your cock going..."

"Feed your head, " I said following him to the door.

The lude kicked in about ten minutes later as we drove to Glendale. I felt my anxiety melting away as Aaron told me the set up. I was to sit on the sofa and watch him blowing Father Horny, when the priest looked my way, I was to whip out my cock and start jerking off. Later on, we'd probably both have to stand over his holiness and cum on him while he lay on the floor jerking off. I almost laughed at the business like way he described the scenario. But as mellow as I felt, and as ludicrous and surreal everything seemed to be; I was sporting a major hard-on.

And so we showed up at a small apartment about a block from the church that Father Horny was affiliated with. The priest, a middle-aged man, shocked me when he answered the door in his cassock and collar. He smiled beatifically when he caught a glimpse of Aaron and managed the same smile when he was introduced to me...we were then ushered in to a living room and offered iced tea. Taking a cue from my partner in crime, I accepted some, it was weak and very sweet. As we sat and drank, the priest drew the drapes and went over to the landing by the steps that led to the second floor of his apartment and said, "Walt, do you want to watch as I take communion from Aaron?"

"Yes, father, I do", I said a bit to respectfully, all things considered, and once again found myself trying to stifle a laugh.

The priest undid Aaron's shirt and tossed it aside and then led him to the stair well where he had Aaron stand on the third or fourth step and then he got on his knees in front of him and began sucking and I heard Aaron, ever the professional, say softly, "Take this son, this is my body" and he looked my way and gave me a wink while Father Horny sucked away... I noticed how beautiful Aaron looked in the diffused light that filtered in through the drawn curtains...and then the priest paused and wiped at his lips and looked my way. This was my cue, so I undid my zipper and let my dick pop out, and slowly began massaging it for the benefit of the man of the cloth...once more Aaron caught my eye and winked his approval.

It went on at the stairway for about five minutes and then the priest rose and motioned for me to get up. He said, "Take your shirt off and stand here." So I stood in the middle of the living room and Aaron stood across from me while the priest lay on the floor and hitched up his robe, revealing a pasty white body and a very small dick. I did my best not lose my hard-on considering what I was seeing and stood over him jacking off. Luckily Father Horny kept his eyes closed and I jerked-off looking at Aaron who was jerking off looking at me... we managed to have our orgasms almost at the same time, and as our juice spilt on to the man in black, he did the same and shot his own seed into the air .

When it was over the priest remained on the floor and pointed to a small table by the door where an envelope waited. "Go", he said keeping his eyes closed. So we grabbed our shirts and jackets, zipped up and then headed out; Aaron snatching the envelope behind me...

I began laughing when I got into the car as Aaron said, "Check this out", showing me that the our payment was in was one of the church's donation envelopes. Two crumpled one hundred dollar bills were inside as well as a mass card ... Aaron tossed the mass card out the window and handed me my cut saying, "See, I told you it would be easy!" Then he turned on his radio and we sped away, Fleetwood Mac's "Gold Dust Woman" serving as our get away soundtrack...

We drove about three blocks, flush with excitement and Aaron pulled the Volkswagen down a little side street and parked and looked at me, his smile as bright and dazzling as that California sun, he said, "Dude! You are gonna' be so good at this", and he leaned over and planted a big wet kiss on my lips. My head spun and when he pulled back he said, "OK, tonight we hit the town and drum up some business...me and you, dude! The Glimmer Twins!"

I laughed, and said, "Just like Keith and Mick."

"Something like that", he said as he shifted gears and peeled back out on to the highway...

3: Down The Rabbit Hole

We drove down Sunset Blvd at dusk, the street was glowing all neon reds and purples. Another half a lude was doing it's work on me and once more I found myself at that stage of blessed calm mixed with extra arousal. It was a very warm night, almost eighty degrees after the sun went down...I knew that right now, back home in Jersey, it was cold and raining. Could I ever go back to that when now I was in the land of sex and money and warmth?

Aaron parked the V.W. behind an old warehouse and we got out and hit the streets. We both wore impossibly tight Levi's. Aaron wore a faded Bicentennial shirt that was cut at the waist revealing his taught little belly, and I wore a plain red t-shirt tucked in to my pants. Then we found a corner near an all night deli and stood near the phone both and waited to be cruised by lonely, horny men...this was what Aaron meant when he said we would be "Drumming up business".

On the corner he repeated his safety rules to me; don't get into a car alone ... try and get the money up-front ... if you are getting bad vibes from a john, walk away... I kept a roll of quaters in my pocket, which I learned, would come in useful if you had to throw a punch with a little something extra behind it; funny, for all these warnings and cautions, I felt no fear.

A fat little man with broken glasses sided up to me that first night and asked, "How much to suck you off?" I told him and he nodded his head and we walked over to the alley. I could still see Aaron from my vantage point as I stood propped up against a brick wall, a dumpster hiding me and the man from prying eyes . Before he went down on his knees I said, "Money". And he smiled nervously and said, "Of course", and shoved a handful of cash at me which I flicked through and then put in my pocket. The man got down on his knees and I undid my pants and let him go at it. As I remember it, he was pretty good at cock-sucking and I surprised myself by shooting my load into his mouth. When we were done the man wiped at his lips with a hanky and said, "Thank you" and then disappeared into the night; and just like that, I made twenty five bucks...

...and that's how it went for the rest of the night, and for the next few nights. We'd work a different corner and mostly have guys suck our cocks...most nights we came home with a few hundred dollars between us ... one night this older man, he must have been almost seventy, invited us both to go back to his place, a little apartment he kept in North Hollywood and he paid us both two hundred a piece if he could jerk off while he watched us make out... another time we both took a limo ride with these two middle-aged men and gave them blow jobs while they discussed the stock market with each other; we pulled in three hundred for that gig, plus a couple of stock tips ...

Now don't get me wrong, it was not all cash and cum: one night this guy, a big tough looking bruiser, asked if he could fuck me, Aaron had already made a connection and was in a hotel down the street with his john, but I was feeling brave and told him if he had fifty bucks he could do what he wanted. The next thing I knew I was in another back alley getting fucked by the bruiser ... with the smallest cock I'd ever seen in my life. I wanted him to enjoy himself so I groaned and moaned and put on a good show. When he finished, he pulled out and came all over my back and as I turned around, I was met by his large ham sized fist; the son of a bitch sucker punched me, and as I lay on the ground he went for my pants saying, "Where's the money, faggot?" I was dazed at first, and I don't know what I was thinking but I managed to slam my left foot into his crotch, effectively dropping the bastard. As he lay on the ground cursing and holding his aching balls, I dressed quickly and then reached for his wallet and took out the contents, which was about three hundred bucks. I threw the empty billfold at him and kicked him once more, this time in the face and then ran faster than I had in my entire life until I got back to Aaron's car where I waited (that was our designated meet up spot - the car, we both had a set of keys for the bug so whomever was finished up for the night would hang out and wait for the other to get back)...When he finally did get back and he saw the bruise , just under my left eye, he got a look of panic on his face...until I told him what had happened, "You tough little, mother fucker!" He said wiping my face with a clean handkerchief, "you fucked him up and took his money!?!? Damn, remind me never to fuck with you!" we laughed as he drove the car back to the hotel where he still had an hour before check out. We both washed up and on our way back to the car I said, "Hey, I am so riled up tonight, let's go somewhere"...

...twenty minutes later we were at a disco on Santa Monica Blvd. We ordered a couple of beers and washed down a couple of tabs of MDMA and hit the dance floor and under the flashing lights and pulsating beat, we became like two whirling dervishes. The music, I remember, seemed to be coming from within, and we tore our shirts off and danced surrounded by other men doing the same; like some tribe of pagan revelers, and though I could feel my eye swelling shut, I felt so fucking great and every now and again, Aaron would come up to me, to my face, and kiss me, and the music seemed to grow louder, the thumping bass like my own heart beat, and when he put his arms around me and started slowly grinding, smashing his thighs up against mine so I could feel the pressure of his magnificent cock against me; every time he did this, I felt orgasmic waves ripple through me and when he leaned forward and yelled into my ear above the din, "Man, I want to fuck you so bad now..." I took his hand and lead him off the dance floor to somewhere, anywhere, that we might be able to get down to some serious action.

In the back of the club, was a room. Old sofas where strewn about as well as bodies; this was a place where men had anonymous couplings. We found an empty spot and took our clothes off and I lay on the couch and he mounted me, his beautiful hair flapping about his head while he fucked me, and once more I marveled over his expertise at what he did and the way he did it and he fucked me savagely and passionately while his sweat dripped off of his body on to mine and the heavy bass of the disco music from the other room, along with the drugs and alcohol that were coursing through my veins, lead me down a rabbit hole of pleasure -- and just before he came, he bent down, all the way so that he could kiss me and I could feel his juice shoot inside of me and our kiss was prolonged and it was followed by my orgasm. I came in buckets that only a nineteen year old punk, stoned out of his gourd can. And when I was done, and while I was trying catch my breath, he slid off of me and began licking the jizz from my chest and stomach. I watched him do this and realized that my cock was still hard, that I still yearned for more. And then he kissed me and I tasted him, and I tasted myself and I closed my eyes and thanked whatever obscene twist of fate had brought me to this place.

It was the most sincere prayer of thanks I had ever given in my young life.

END, PART THREE

Lost in Babylon (part two)

1: BLUEBALLS IN BURBANK

Aaron's house, a neat bungalow, tucked behind a bramble of eucalyptus trees in Burbank is where the limo dropped us off.

During the ride back I'd discovered that my new friend was twenty four years old, a graduate of Hollywood High school, "I've achieved the honorable", he chuckled sucking on a joint that he shared with me, and that he'd been hustling since he dropped out of UCLA three years ago. He dropped names as the car sped through the hazy night, and my head spun; movie and TV stars, athletes, and even two very prominent politicians ... all males, all hiding their sexuality behind a mask of respectability, all paying for the favors of Aaron and others like him.

Then he asked me how long I'd been hustling. I laughed and shook my head, "Oh me? I mean, no, I was invited to this party - I had no idea what the deal was... Christ, I was just curious and horny".

"Fair enough," he said studying me in the dim light of the back seat, "So are you a fag?"

The question hung like a dust mote in the air for a second.

Again, I laughed, nervously, and nodded my head. "Yeah, I guess I am", and then I paused and said, "I guess you're not, huh? This is just a job, right? You have a wife and a..."

He laughed, and it was a howl of a laugh, it almost made me jump, "Shit man, if I were straight, do you think I'd be in this line? But I know what you mean, some of those dudes you met tonight swear they are straight...fucking closet cases all of 'em", his voice was filled with disgust, "And if that's not bad enough, shit, the big-time-players, you could put a gun to those fucker's heads and they'd swear they are not gay...yeah, only when they have to pay for it", he snorted in conclusion...

I shifted some in the back seat, and felt myself relax, as he talked I could not take my eyes off his crotch. He caught me eyeing his package and winked at me and said, "My place, dude, I could use a good real fuck and not some staged event", and then he rested his hand on my knee and gave it a firm squeeze and with that we were entering his tree lined street in Beautiful Downtown Burbank.

I did not know what to expect when we got to his place, but I was pleasantly surprised to find a comfortable, one might have called "cozy", little house that was filled with decent looking furniture. I paused in the living room and pointed to the metal box with dials and buttons that sat on top of the television, "What is that?" I asked. He glanced over and said, "It's called a video cassette recorder, pretty soon everyone is going to have one...it was a gift from a client at CBS".

His bedroom was dominated by a huge bed that looked so big it should have it's own zip code, I was about to comment on it when he nonchalantly took me in his arms and gave me a kiss...my head began to spin again as his tongue gently explored my mouth; "That kiss you gave me back at the party was pretty nice, I just wanted to see if it was acting or the real thing..." he said as he backed away removing his shirt.

Then he turned and threw a bundle my way that I caught instinctively. A towel, wash cloth and a bar of wrapped soap, "Go clean the night off of you, you can use the shower over there", he nodded to the small powder room just off the bedroom, "I'll use the guest shower...meet me back here in 15", and with that he dashed off.

I showered, and dried myself . My cock stayed hard the whole time. I felt like some kind of virgin about to take the plunge for the first time ... the years of fucking around with my buddies back home seemed to be leading up to this; this rendezvous with this beautiful hustler I'd met at a movie star's house --- who I fucked in front of said movie star--- I had to close my eyes, because frankly, I could not believe the events of the past few hours; none the less I checked my look in the mirror and modestly pulled a clean towel around my waist and then walked back into the bedroom.

I was struck by the smell of incense back in the darkened room, a very heady scent, it was musk. I also smelled a joint burning, and there on the bed, naked, his cock standing straight up like an exclamation point, was Aaron. He offered the jay to me and I took a couple of hits and handed it back. He took it and butted it out in an ash tray and then pulled me to the bed where for the third time tonight, we kissed. And while we bussed, he undid the towel and his hands played all over my body, caressing me, the same way he probably caressed the movers and shakers that he had shared beds with in the past ... his touch was gentle, like that of an experienced soul, not the rapid gropings of a horny kid, and yet, at the same time, he found places that made new sensations of pleasure ripple through my body...when he lifted up my arm and began to lick my pit, I almost laughed, but then I went with it and it was good, so I did the same to him and he tasted wonderful and smelled of soap with just the most faint whiff of some cologne...and then he lay me down on the soft, soft bed and stood above me, his beautiful cock, dripping liquid on to my lips and he guided my head to it and I licked at it and then I took it in my mouth and he slowly moved in and out while he said softly, "Yes, baby, that's it..." and his cock, as hard as it was, snaked it's way down my throat and I swallowed and it made him shake and he laughed softly and said, "Where the fuck did you learn that move?" and then he straddled me and began to fuck my face in earnest. I reached up and felt his solid ass cheeks, and I pushed him down further and I could smell his own musk at the base of the rod, his pubic hair still moist from his shower... I felt him tense and assumed he was going to come, but instead he pulled out and slid down my chest, laying on top of me, grinding his hips against mine and we kissed some more and a shaft of light from the hallway illuminated his face and I saw how beautiful he truly was, and I understood why others would pay for his company...

He rolled off of me then and began to kiss my chest, licking at my nipples, then his tongue running the length of my abdomen until he got to my cock which he took in his mouth and began sucking. Maybe it was the weed I smoked, but the pleasure seemed like nothing I'd felt before with anyone, his cock-sucking was sending me right over the proverbial rainbow, I could not catch my breath; it was like every nerve ending was attached to my dick...and just when I was about to cum, Aaron shoved something under my nose and told me to breathe in. I glanced at a small brown bottle and did as I was asked and for a split second I thought that maybe he was trying to kill me; the odor, a strong odd chemical smell, filled my nostrils and it was awful and then, It felt like someone was slamming the back of my head with a brick; Christ, was this guy some kind of gay Son of Sam, the room was spinning and everything was going hazy; but through it all, through this sensation, the pleasure that was going on at my mid-section remained...now I thought maybe I was going to die, but as quickly as the odd overwhelming sensation of fading away had started: it had ended.

I pushed myself up and said, "What the fuck was that?"

Aaron removed himself from my cock and looked up at me and said, "Rush", and he flashed the little brown bottle my way ... "did you like it?"

"No, not particularly", I said, a dull headache already beginning to throb.

He sat up and kissed me tenderly and said, "Wow, I thought everyone liked poppers", and then he laughed and I laughed and he said, "Let's smoke some more and then continue, it'll help your head". I agreed, the headache/popper incident already forgotten...one thing for sure, I really needed to have an orgasm, my balls were as blue as Kentucky grass.

2: OVER THE RAINBOW, FOR REAL

This time we blew an entire joint, as we lay side by side. He kept apologizing for the popper and I kept telling him to forget it. Finally, the joint finished, and me stoned out of my gourd, I said something like, "Look man, not for nothing, but If I don't get to cum tonight, I might explode". This caused us both to howl, and before I knew it, he was crouched down in front of me, his fingers worming there way inside of me, slowly, maddeningly. I watched as his face, intent with determination, was focused on the task at hand, and before I knew it, he had four fingers up my my ass and I was squirming and jerking as electrical currents began to short circuit through out my body..."Go with it, dude", he whispered, and then he spit on his hand and brought the digit's up further and began moving the top of his hand back and forth, I began pleading for his cock and he continued finger fucking me; and when his free hand came up and started pinching at my tits I closed my eyes and saw lights begin to flash behind my eyelids. He told me to turn over on my stomach, and I did, and he continued fingering me; every now and again, he'd slap his cock on my crack...I could feel his spit dripping down covering my ass, making me wet; he must have had all five fingers in me at one point as he pulled up and raised my ass, working me like a puppet.

Finally he asked me if I was ready to get fucked, I cried out in the affirmative, pretty much pleading for it and I turned my head to see what he was doing, twisting my head back so that maybe I could catch a glimpse; and for a fleeting moment, I saw his dick, the cock that powerful men craved; and then I felt it.

He entered me at a slow but steady pace and I felt him go further and further inside...once again, it might have been all of the dope I'd smoked, but in retrospect I suspect it was his expertise at what he was doing; I'd never felt anything so good in my life. With every push, he opened up new sensations of pleasure, if there was pain, I was well beyond it, I knew that there was drool coming from my mouth as he rammed me, I knew that my own cock was alive and spilling precum onto the blankets below me, I knew that every-time I closed my eyes I saw beautiful flashing lights, I knew I was saying his name out-loud...

...what I did not know is that I was crying, literally. He noticed and said softly and sweetly, "Dude am I hurting you?"

I answered him by pushing myself down further on his shaft and somehow I managed to reassure him that these were those tears of joy the poets write about.

Every now and again, he'd slap me on the ass, and this would signal that he was going to speed up; I met his rhythm and fell into it and when he came, he shot inside of me, a stream of jizz, that god help me, felt as hot as lava. I almost shot my own load when he cried out, "Walt! Damn" as his final delivery of cum fired into me.

When he was through, he dismounted and gave me another kiss and said, "Come on dude, give it to me", and he went down on all fours and I reached for the jar of Lube that was bedside and quickly slathered my dick with it and rather unceremoniously began fucking him.

If the dope made getting fucked feel good, it made giving a fuck something like a religious experience. His asshole seemed to clamp around my member and I felt like I was pounding someone other-worldly, It was as close to Nirvana as I'd ever been in my life. I could hear my own heart pounding in my ears, I could hear Aaron egging me on, begging me to fuck him silly, begging me to make him mine and I felt like I might have been watching us, as if I was somehow dissociated from this ; a voyeur at the window...and when I came, It was out of the blue, rushing in from nowhere and everywhere. It was the kind of orgasm, that to this very day, I have never felt again. I shot my load inside of him and I fell onto him and convulsed like a freak and just when I though I was spent, one more jolt hit me and I was enveloped in pleasure... and just then a warm breeze blew the curtains and the smell of eucalyptus filled the room.

3: Stay The Night, He Requested

I was rag-doll-limp after the sex, and I rolled over on my back and listened to my own breath as I glanced up at the ceiling. He was next to me, also on his back, his left hand on my thigh which he was slowly rubbing. No words for minutes, just the muffled sounds of the curtains as they continued ruffling in the aromatic night breeze.

I closed my eyes and realized where I was again. In bed with a stranger, a sex professional, who'd I met earlier at an orgy in the Hollywood Hills; an orgy that included celebrities...was this for real, I questioned myself silently ... could this really be happening to me? I opened my eyes and the answer was a resounding, yes. Same room, same curtains, same beautiful stud at my side.

Exhausted, but thinking I knew what was coming next, I started to sit up and felt his hand move to my shoulder as he pulled me back into bed. "Stay the night," he requested, his voice soft and sincere.

I turned on my side and he spooned me and wrapped his arms around my mid-section and I drifted off quickly into a dreamless, refreshing sleep.

4: Talking 1977 Over Coffee and Tang - Reality and Promise

The next morning, I was treated to a continental breakfast that we ate in his small, lush yard. We sat at opposite ends of a rather tattered picnic table and drank some Tang, (I remember being so thirsty that morning, that I must have had at least three glasses of the astronaut's juice) and he told me that he was boycotting real orange juice because of Anita Bryant and her anti-gay crusade. I toasted his boycott and raised my glass of the pale orange beverage saying, "Up yours, Anita!" He laughed and in the morning sun, looked even more beautiful than the night before, his long blond hair going any way the wind blew it.

Later on he went into the kitchen to get some coffee for us. I could hear the radio inside playing 10 CC's, "I'm Not In Love" while I perused the Los Angeles Times and read a review of this new band from England called, "The Sex Pistols". I was half way through the article when my host appeared at the door carrying two steaming mugs and placed one down in front of me and said, "So tell me about New Jersey".

I was stunned, as I had not told him a thing about where I was from.

Then he upped the ante by asking, "And how about your real name?"

I sipped the coffee, it was strong and sweet, and then I cleared my throat and said, "Well you tell me, what did you do, sneak a peek at my wallet -- my driver's licence?"

He nodded his head and then said, "Sorry, it goes with the territory ... look, I know your name is not Walt and I know you're from Jersey, so come on, what's your story, dude? I told you mine...come on fess up."

So I told him everything and waited for a response.

He never took his eyes off me while I spoke and when I was through he said, "Well, shit, man. What was the big deal? Lot's of people come to the west coast to mend a broken heart..."

I had nothing to say. So I remained silent as he pulled his chair over and sat next to me, "Hey, I've got an idea, you say there's nothing at home for you. Why not stay here, with me for awhile...I like the company and", he paused, maybe for some kind of dramatic effect, or maybe because he meant what he was about to say, "I like you, dude. I like you a lot"

Then he leaned forward and planted a soft, kiss on my lips and it seemed full of promise.

I nodded my head after the kiss and said, "Really, you want me to stay?"

He took me in his arms and kissed me once more, this time with a passionate urgency that seemed to bring the morning's colors into high focus all around me ... and when we were done, he smiled; a crooked little grin that seemed full of mischief and softly said, "Really".

And he held me in his arms for a few more minutes and I held him back and somewhere, off in the distance, I could hear the sound of sirens wailing ...

END part two

Lost In Babylon (part one)

1: SAY HELLO TO HOLLYWOOD

It was in early November of 1977, just after my breakup with Stu, that I cashed in my chips (what little I had in the way of chips) and took an impromptu trip to Los Angeles. This was something I'd always wanted to do, and now, with nothing holding me back and my broken heart worn firmly on my sleeve, I took TWA flight 1812 from Philadelphia Airport to LAX and arrived in the City of Angels on November 5th with about 600.00 in cash on my person and a pre-paid stay at a ratty little hotel just off of Sunset Blvd; six days and five nights that cost me a whopping 96.00.

I was both scared and excited over this knee jerk thing I had done, leaving family and friends behind and traveling to the mythical kingdom of sin city ... a place where no one knew me and I could loose myself in unreality.

I did all of the tourist stuff ... took bus rides past the stars homes, saw tapings of several sitcoms as well as the Carson show, walked down Hollywood Blvd and checked out the hand and foot prints of the New American Gods, ( at one point I noted that my foot size was the same as John Wayne's), had a great night at the Whiskey-A-Go-Go seeing some outrageous punk bands while getting hit on by a beautiful woman who told me that she could get me a job in the movies if I went home with her ... yeah, it was all kind of fun and innocent and a welcome diversion from heartbreak and teen angst...well, I was still a teen so angst was part of that package I suppose.

2: GORILLA'S BY THE POOL:

And then, this one afternoon, as I was lounging by the pool at my hotel, I noticed these two rather beefy guys, a couple of gorillas actually, strolling the edge of the patio. They were both shirtless revealing husky, hairy chests; they wore sunglasses. Every now and again they'd pause at a spot where a male guest was sitting or coming out of the water and talk to them and then move on. I was first aware that they had come my way as they blocked out the warm California sun that had been beating down on me; a double cloud of testosterone hovered over as the one standing to the left said, "Hey, pretty boy, want to come to a party tonight?" I looked up at the one who was talking and before I could do or say anything, the other one dropped a piece of paper on to my lap and said, "Ten o clock". I snatched the note and looked back up; these two looked tough, like a couple of heavyweight boxers, but their faces were finely sculptured with strong and distinguished features. I felt myself growing hard as I gazed up at their massive chests and the first one took notice and said, "Hey I think you are really going to enjoy yourself tonight. Don't be late." And with that, they moved on and eventually left through the hotel patio's street exit.

I grabbed my shirt and dashed upstairs to my room and checked out the note I had been handed. An address on Mulholland Drive and a phone number were neatly printed along with a post script that read, "this is a private affair, discretion is a must". I put the paper on the side table and fell onto the bed and jerked off while I fantasized about the two pool-side gorillas and then dozed for about two hours.

After I showered and changed, I called the phone number and a pitch perfect voice, kind of like a radio DJ, asked where my location was. I told him and was then informed that a car would be there to pick me up in an hour.

3: MULHOLLAND DRIVE

The ride up Mulholland was mesmerizing. I sat in the back of the limo and noted that at every turn, as we traveled up the hill, I could see L.A. from the car's windows glowing below me like some psychedelic jewel...the driver, an older man, said nothing until he pulled up into a rather steep drive way and informed me that I was at my destination.

As I walked the dimly lit path of the large home, I saw two figures by the door ... I realized that it was the gorillas from earlier. They were both standing at the doorway, their silk shirts unbuttoned revealing those monstrous chests. As I got closer the taller one said, "Pretty boy made it". And the other one smiled and I felt both aroused and terrified at the same time. They approached me quickly and shoved me into a bramble of some kind of fragrant flora and the tall one shoved me down to my knees while the shorter one unzipped his pants and pushed his cock in my face, "Gotta pay the price to gain entrance", the shorter one said softly. Then the tall one got behind his partner and began nibbling on his ear while pinching his nipples...the shorter one guided me to his cock and I closed my eyes and did what was expected. It took maybe five minutes for the guy I was blowing to come. He pulled out of my mouth and shot his load into the bushes and then patted me on the head and said, "OK pal you're in". With that, they handed me a roll of Certs and the tall one brushed me off and helped me to my feet, "Pretty as a picture" he said, sweeping the hair from my forehead. And then I was ushered to the front door, "Ring the bell and give the butler this", the short one said handing me a small embossed card. I took it and turned in time to see the two gorillas fade into the dark as they took back their stations at the front of the walk; guarding the entrance of this sprawling Hollywood home set high in the hills.

I rang the doorbell and stood by the wrought-iron gate that covered the door. The night was alive with a million different smells...jasmine and rose mingled with the faint odor of marijuana burning, pine, from the trees that surrounded and kept this estate hidden, was also prominent...

The door opened and a small, elderly man in a tuxedo answered the door and said, "May I help you?" I handed him the card I'd received earlier and he sighed taking it, and unlatched the gate around the door and ushered me in. Standing in the hallway I noted the painting on the wall of the famous movie star, his wife and their children ... the movie star sat in a large plush chair, his equally famous wife stood behind him, her hands resting on his broad shoulders, on either side of the movie star, his two children, two little girls, stood. They smiled benignly down at me as the butler pointed to a door at the far end of the hall and said, "In there, sir.

I walked the hallway realizing that it was about triple the size of my hotel room and as I approached the door I could hear the bass pumping's of disco music coming from behind it.

I took a deep breath, turned the brass knob and let the door swing open... the first thing I saw were three vaguely familiar men standing over the prone body of one very familiar looking young man. The men were naked and sweaty and were taking turns at the ass of the very familiar looking dude...I knew him immediately from that television show I watched every week...for a second I did not know if I should join in, or ask him for his autograph ... turns out there was no time for either as the butler was suddenly at my shoulder saying, "Sir, please remove your clothing and give it to me, I'll see that your clothes and personal effects are kept safe during the party". As if in a trance, I disrobed and handed my clothing to him, which he gently folded over his arm. After I gave him my underwear he handed me a pair of white soccer shorts that were clean but somewhat worn. The fit was snug, but I figured that was supposed to be ... I turned to ask the butler something, but he was gone, the door was shut and now I was alone in this dimly lit room surrounded by, god knows how many men. The sounds of heavy breathing and disco music blended into one odd timbre.

4: BANG A GONG, GET IT ON

I saw that a bar was set up by the fireplace, so I made my way over, gently stepping over a few couples who were going at on the floor...there were bottles of soft drinks and wine as well as beer and liquor for the taking. I grabbed a can of Coke and poured myself a drink, though I instantly wished for something stronger as I was a bit on edge. As I was about to partner the cola with a shot of something 100 proof, someone came up behind me and grabbed my ass and said, "Yowza, kid, that's one nice tush!" I turned and my mouth dropped when I realized that I was standing face to face...well not exactly face, he was a good deal shorter than I... with the host of that odd-ball game show that came on late at night. The elfin man with the wiry, hairy body, whose cock was erect the entire time, turned out to be a charming, if not somewhat, crazy guy who tried to get me to do a line of coke with him. I turned his offer down and he smiled until his eyes squinted shut and said, "Good boy, you don't want to fuck with this shit..." and then he did a line on the bar and took my hand and guided me to a sofa where for the next twenty minutes or so he told me a very tall tale about his double life. I figured the dope was making him somewhat delusional but this was his trip, not mine, so I let him go on. Again, the entire time, his cock stayed at full alert. And then suddenly, with out a word, he got down on his knees in front of me and released my cock from the tight soccer shorts and began to give me head -- man, he was good, but quick. All the while, he jerked himself off while furiously sucking me. I pushed his head down, my hands flattening his somewhat unruly mop of salt and pepper gray hair...and then suddenly he stopped and looked up at me and said, "Don't come in my mouth." Just then a few other guys wandered over. I recognized one of them, the tall blond from all of those B Films that played the local drive-ins back home from a few years back, and this other guy, he did not look familiar, he was a hairy one and he joined us. The blond B-star took position behind the game show host and began battering his ass with such ferocity that the sofa shook; meanwhile the hairy guy got behind the sofa and began working on my tits...I surrendered myself to this sensory overload and felt myself come quickly; the game show host pulled off of my cock and I shot a geyser into the air that caused the hairy guy behind me to say, "Old, fucking, faithful"... and just then, B movie star came, knocking the game show host on to the floor and I watched as his seed sprayed the hairy chest of the man on the floor who was rubbing it all over his torso, a weird grin on his face...

5: THE BOYS IN TIGHT SHORTS

After the episode with the game show host ended, I was left alone. I got up again and went to the bar and slipped back in to the shorts. I also managed to fix myself a drink, and drank it down quickly, following it with a straight shot of vodka. When I finished the shot, I was joined by several young guys all about my age, all in tight white soccer shorts. "Want to clean up, bud?" One of them asked. I nodded my head and was escorted to a small room just off the side of the bar. I walked into the dark room and found a sink where I washed my face and hands, and then took a wash cloth off a pile of neatly stacked linens and gave my cock and balls a quick sponge bath. The guy who showed me in, a very cute blond with shoulder length hair and piercing blue eyes, handed me a towel so I could dry off. Then he introduced me to the half a dozen other guys...I shook hands and nodded at my brothers in tight white and then the blond asked, "First time at one of these parties?" I nodded and he smiled and said, "Easy money, man. Keep 'em all happy and you'll leave here with some good walking around bread." And then another one of them, a lanky dude with a peace sign tattooed on his left pec said, "You picked a good night, not that many trolls here ... mostly some hot ones, and a few heavy hitters". Mutterings of acknowledgment concerning that pearl of wisdom passed amongst the group and then the blond told me that if the host liked me, I'd be able to come back whenever I wanted ... suddenly, feeling like a rube of the lowest order, I figured out the game. Me and these young guys were the paid entertainment for the assorted guests -- fucking A; three days in Hollywood and I was a now in a den of of Sunset Blvd hustlers ... what the hell was I doing?

Just then the other guys took off back into the main play room and I watched as the guy with the peace sign went down on his knees servicing that ruggedly handsome, older African American actor who played the father on that sit-com -- though the room was dimly lit, I could see the black man's face, his striking features looked better in person than they did on the tube, contort itself into a mask of pleasure... back further in the room, I saw that the young actor who'd I earlier seen being gang-banged, was now sandwiched between two of the hustler boys; and they assaulted him with gusto from either end...meanwhile, on the sofa, I saw a young actor who was currently in one of the biggest films playing the mall theater's back home. He was idly stroking his less than impressive cock watching the going's on...

The blond at my side said, "I'm Aaron". I turned and lied to him by saying, "Hey, I'm Walt." and he smiled and said, "Stick close, I'll cover you, man". I was oddly touched by his offer and smiled and was about to say something else when that hairy guy from earlier came up to the both of us and smiled. He was rather wolf-like in his appearance with a close cropped beard that accentuated his handsome face. He leaned over and whispered something into Aaron's ear; and then Aaron nodded and whispered something back, and then the wolf gave him a pat on the shoulder. As he walked back into the crowd, Aaron turned to me and said, "Walt, brother, we hit pay-dirt. Come with me." And I followed him through the den, to a door way that led to a hallway.

6: THE MOVIESTAR
We paused in the hall in front of what looked like a solid oak door. A small lamp, on an ornate marble table that was positioned next to the door, offered a dim guide in the gloom. Aaron reached for the door handle and turned to me and said softly, "Relax and follow my lead..." and like that he reached out and gently turned the brass nob. There was no squeaking as the door softly swung to reveal a room paneled in more dark oak, the slight odor of cigar smoke greeted us and then as the view became full, for the second time this evening, my jaw dropped: There, standing naked as the day he was born, a young man on his knees in front of him sucking his dick, was The Movie-star! He was solid and muscular, his curly close cropped hair, greying at the sides. He had a cigar in his mouth and turned when he saw us, his famous baby blues catching the light and flashing like a camera's strobe. He nodded our way and took the cigar from his mouth and said in that some what gravely voice of his, "Aaron, and Walt, is it?" Dumbfounded I stood stock still. Nothing in my young life had prepared me for this moment. Here I was about to interact with the man my own mother once called, "The most beautiful person alive" -- I shook my head, because the last thing I needed now was my mother's voice in my head -- luckily, Aaron put a hand on my shoulder and firmly but gently lead me into The Movie-star's bed room.

Aaron pointed to a small table where a couple of white t-shirts and sneakers were neatly arranged, "Find a shirt and a pair of sneaks that fit man, and be cool" he whispered again. I did as I was told and as I was lacing up the tennis shoes I caught glance of The Movie-star's equally famous wife staring my way from a framed photograph that sat atop a bureau. I looked away feeling stupid.

When I turned I saw the other guy, the one that had been blowing The Movie-star exiting the room. Then Aaron was at my side dressing, he smiled and winked and said softly, "It's a fetish of his, he likes us in these kind of get-ups..."

"Well, look at you two, a couple of front runners.", the manly voice of the Master of the house rang out. We both turned and saw he was now splayed out on the bed; his cock, long and stiff, bobbing as he moved to make himself comfortable.

Aaron took my hand and led me to the foot of the bed and The Movie-Star reached for something, a remote control, and pointed it at a bookshelf, and then a reel-to-reel tape deck clicked on and Diana Ross began singing...slowly, sexy; A Love Hangover was pre-ordained.

"Come here, son" he motioned to me, "make yourself comfortable". I felt Aaron nudge me some and I made my way to the bed and then found myself in the embrace of this famous man who took me in his arms and said, "God almighty, son, you are a real find...I am going to have to give Guido and Sherman a big raise" (Guido and Sherman, the two gorillas no doubt). He handed me a goblet of red wine and I obliged taking a healthy gulp, and then he pulled me towards him so I was laying in the crook of his arm (my god he smelled like expensive cologne and power -- if power had an odor), and then he said, "Aaron, give us a little of that dance you are so noted for", and the next thing I knew Aaron was bumping and grinding to the disco beat that was slowly building. As wired as I was, I took note that my new buddy had quite a bulge in his shorts as well as a primo ass...he danced like a snake, slowly, teasing that he was going to remove his clothes, but ultimately staying dressed...then The Movie-star sat up and joined Aaron, dancing with him. I watched, still stunned over what I was seeing, and then Aaron pulled me on to the floor and the three of us began to boogie to the cheesy song playing ... maybe it was the wine, or the drink I'd had earlier, but I felt myself start to loosen up and begin to enjoy the scene...this was actually fun...The Movie-star grabbed my hips and swayed with me for a bit and then put an arm around Aaron and the three of us were facing each other, every time he laughed, The Movie-star put me in mind of his famous persona...he was by no means a young man, but he was aging beautifully and he was still magnetic ... and holy fuck, I was dancing with him in his bedroom!

And so it continued for almost twenty minutes or so, the three of us in our own private Studio 54, and somehow, between bumping and grinding, drinks were shoved into our hands and we partook and partied and it was good...

When the song finally ended the three of us feel onto the bed laughing and The Movie-star said, "Boys, you have worn this old man out". Then he lay back in the bed again and with out any fanfare said, "OK, now let me watch you two fuck each other."

He told us to remove our clothes, which we did, and then (since every actor really wants to direct I suppose) he told us exactly what he wanted to see. I supported my self on the edge of the bed while Aaron fingered my ass and then entered me. I closed my eyes for a second and then let out a deep moan. Soon I felt my new friend shoving against me and it felt good as he fucked me, and when The Movie-star told him to slap my ass, hard, I yelled out and I saw that he was jerking off while we were going at it ... then he told Aaron to bend over and instructed me to give it to the blond, but to kiss him first...we embraced and gave our host a view of a passionate kiss and he sighed in appreciation saying, "Beautiful, just beautiful, yeah kiss some more..." so we did, and then I got behind Aaron, who raised his bubble butt up while I spit on my cock and rammed him so hard that he cried out, "Mother Fucker!" and the Movie-star said, "Outstanding!" and like that, he had his orgasm, never taking his eyes off the two of us...

7: THAT'S A WRAP!

My cock was still stiff and inside of Aaron, I wanted to keep going, but The Movie-star got up out of bed and said, "Thanks boys, you can go now, oh and see Jeffers on your way out. He has something for you".

"Shit," I said, "That's it?" I asked incredulous.

"Dude, this must be your first time," Aaron said pulling away and reaching for our shorts..."Trust me, you'll get off later".

I gathered up the shirt and shorts and dressed and followed the hustler down the hallway to another room where I found my clothes neatly pressed and hanging . Next to the clothing were a couple of wicker baskets where we disposed of our tight shorts, t-shirts and sneakers.

Now fully dressed I watched as Aaron buttoned up his shirt and tucked it into his rather snug jeans, "Pay day, dude!" he said smiling wickedly and as if on cue, the butler, Jeffers, came in and handed us both an envelope and said to us, "He would like you both to come back on the 17th. Be here at ten, good night gentlemen". And after that pronouncement we were shown the door.

Outside, I noted the gorillas were gone and Aaron said, "Come on we can share a limo..."

The night was still and very warm. I thought of what it must be like back home now in New Jersey; cold, wet, gray...how could anyone go back to that when they have tasted this?

In the limo, Aaron told me to open my envelope. My eyes almost popped out of my head when I discovered seven crisp one hundred dollar bills, I turned to my new friend and found him fanning himself with his lucre, he winked at me and yelled up to the driver, "Home James"... and the car descended the mountain, and I felt like I'd just left Olympus and was now returning to life amongst the mortals...Aaron put his hand on my knee and said, "Care to hang with me for a bit?" I nodded my head and then turned as the warm California night blew it's promise of all kinds of tantalizing dreams through my hair by way of an open car window.

Aaron turned on the radio and the sounds of The Rolling Stones filled the air; Gimmie Shelter...

The Limo drove on.

END. Part One:

Summer of Stu II

He had longish hair, beautiful dark, sloe eyes, thick, sensuous lips ... a face that was one part rock-star and one part model; Stu, my first real lover...the first guy in high school I'd ever kissed, the first guy I'd ever had sex with, the first one to ever mutter, "I love you" to me, and ultimately, my first heartbreak.

I mentioned here before that during the summer of 1977 Stu and I lived together in his late grandfather's old farmhouse which lay at the end of a dirt road deep in the woods of a small town in Southern New Jersey. I loved that old house and I loved Stu. I was young, we were both young, just nineteen years old, unfettered and free and horny and we had each other...

Sex was an ongoing, almost nonstop event between us. When we weren't working or sleeping, chances are we were fooling around.

Most mornings we started the day with a mutual jerk off... it was nice to reach over and feel for his staff through his briefs, free it and jerk it until he came ... it was just as nice to have him do it to me.

Some times I'd rise to the surface out of a sound sleep with him going down on my cock. He'd do these mind-blowing things with his tongue to my cock and and balls and I'd shoot a messy morning load into his waiting mouth... and then he'd look up at me, those sleepy, sexy eyes of his locking with mine and we'd kiss and I'd taste my own cum...

Rock music was almost always playing somewhere in the house ... one day, in the kitchen we were throwing a meal together and Argent's "God Gave Rock and Roll To You" was issuing forth from the radio on the shelf above the stove, "This song makes me horny", he said turning from the stove top, and the next thing I knew he was playing with my nipples making me weak in the knees. I stopped what I was doing and allowed him to assault my chest, to tweak my sensitive tits until they burned and my cock was rock hard, until I fell to my knees and sucked him off while our dinner burnt...fuck it, could life be any better?

There was an old barn behind the house that Stu used when he painted (he was a tremendously gifted artist), we also rigged up the barn as a kind of sex room complete with a jerry-rigged sling that we took turns in getting fucked...sometimes we'd have like minded buddies over and engage in some multiple partner action. Often, Chris and Andy stopped over and the four of us would get it on in the barn ... other times it was just us. This one time, Stu and I smoked a bowl of some crazy Mexican weed and we were both so fucked up that I ended up banging his beautiful ass while he was bent over a hay bale...using my own spit as lube I pounded him raw and he cursed me out while I slapped his ass and rode him like a pony...


One night, in our bedroom, a thunderstorm lighting up the night with strobe effects, we smoked a joint and wrestled around on the bed, ass slapping each other, grabbing each others balls, twisting each other nipples, biting each other, spitting in each others mouth ... there was not penetration at all, no sucking no fucking...we merely came in our underwear while we engaged in erotic horseplay.

I loved getting fucked by Stu. He would rub his huge cock all over me, leaving a trail of slime on my back until he reached my crack and then he'd slide in, all at once, and I'd accept the pain/pleasure of his and hold my breath until he was in to the max and then he'd slowly, almost methodically pump away and I'd relax letting every inch of my lover enter while I'd listen for his breathing to intensify and I'd say his name while he was doing me and he'd tell me how much he loved fucking me, and then he'd tell me that he loved me and I'd wait for his climax; the feel of his jism pumping in to me...

I loved to fuck his face, to ram my cock into that beautiful mouth of his. He would take me and deep-throat my cock, and then I'd pull out and slap his face with my rod and watch as drops of pre-cum dotted his perfect face and his tongue would dart out and try and catch my seed...and then I'd reach back and pinch his nipple and he'd groan and I knew he loved it ... and somewhere in that old farmhouse a rock song was playing, and it would reverberate though the halls and when I would cum and shoot white semen all over his face and shout out-loud, my voice would drown out the music, and for a few shining moments I'd understand everything, and it was good and great and then he'd have his orgasm and it would be just as good for him, and once more I'd think; fuck it, could life be any better?

Suffering For Love

I've mentioned it before, about Chris and his athletic prowess...he was the star quarterback of the high school football team; he wrestled, played rugby and soccer in college...His body was like a well oiled machine that could perform in any situation that called for stamina and strength.

He also enjoyed using his athletic ability to dominate, to be the alpha male in sexual situations...but more than that, he enjoyed a good fight. OK, to be blunt, he loved to work his partner over as a prelude to sex. My time with Chris resulted in a lot of things, including a dislocated shoulder, a sprained ankle and several black eyes ... as well as a healthy enjoyment for S & M style erotic undertakings. Don't get me wrong, he could take it as well, and many was the time after a coupling with me that he'd emerge with a split lip or black and blue torso ... yes ,with us, love hurt and it was a lot of give and take...

I suffered for love from this man, and it was worth every bit of it ... i learned to endure as well as dish out punishment, I learned to be tough, I learned to hide my emotions, I learned about the pleasure that hides behind the mask of excruciating discomfort, I learned that a man can endure and grow, I learned that a bloody nose is sometimes as endearing as a kiss ... fighting and fucking, I also learned, are acts of passion...

When we wrestled, and we did this often, he'd try to crush me with his legs; my thighs in a human vice, his body tensed and every muscle as hard as steel.

When he had me by the hair, in a corner, crotch pressed up against my face, fist clenched ready to pummel me into submission; I knew that this was not only a savage act of cruel domination, it was also an act of love.

When he kicked me when I was down and verbally tormented me, I would grow hard and insane with love.

When i sometimes got the upper hand and put him in full nelson and made him scream in pain, I knew he was screaming that he loved me.

When he bested me and stood over me flexing, like a Greek god, I knew that I would worship him; I knew that his crotch, that always seemed ready to burst with the promise of sex, would be communion that I would readily take in homage to my personal deity.

When he yanked me up to his crotch and shoved my face to his bulge and yelled out humiliating things to me, I knew that this was the price I had to pay for loving a man such as this...I knew that I would, and could, return this favor, that I would be the one on top and that I would be the one shoving his crotch on to the face of the defeated ... but when it was me on the receiving end, I gladly took what was being served ... when I was the fallen, I'd give in and embrace the defeat and the pain and the humiliation ... that's what love was for us.

When I managed to get the upper hand and reach for his nipples and pinch and pull on them and realize that his cocky demeanor was fading, I'd grow even harder imagining that somehow, someway, I'd made this Olympian my slave, and then I'd reach for his balls and squeeze them until he begged for mercy, and I'd show him as much mercy as he showed me earlier by yanking on them even harder and more severely until he might collapse under me and for a time I'd be the dominator and he was the punk ... and later, after we were through he'd tell me how much that had turned him on, and that he wanted me to put up a fight and that he enjoyed me inflicting some pain on him, as much has he enjoyed doing the same to me...

Eventually we'd tire of brawling and sex would follow ... and it was always good. When he fucked me, he'd do it with as much tenacity as he did when he was working me over, he'd ask me if I liked it, he'd ask me if I loved it, he'd ask me if it hurt ... and I'd curse him out and tell him that I wanted to him to go faster, harder, deeper, and he'd oblige and I'd imagine that this is what it must have felt like to be had by Zeus...and sometimes, I'd be on top, fucking him and slapping his muscular ass, maybe pulling him by his hair at the same time and he'd swear revenge on me but at the same time he'd be urging me on telling me to make him hurt, make him feel it...

And when it was all over, when we finished, when we had our orgasms, we'd revert to this quiet, sensual mode. We'd hug and kiss and he'd tell me how proud he was of me, how he loved me, how he knew I was the ONE for him ... and if I was the victor, I'd tell him that it was the best sex I'd ever had ... and yet, and yet, and yet... as much as I did, I never, ever told him that I loved him...