Date: Mon, 15 Mar 1999 19:53:55 PST
From: angerhead@hotmail.com
Subject: A True Man
A TRUE MAN
by angerhead@hotmail.com
PROLOGUE
Rick: In dreams I
can remember the past
so clearly.
But those days
of breasts
wandering frequently into my hands
are long gone.
Sitting here, I can
feel
my bones rotting,
flesh withering.
The crystals
once so fertile in my mind
have vanished,
washed out to sea
just like
all my broken dreams.
And like dreams they
are forgotten,
not mourned because
they no longer
fill a space in my memory.
Clear it all out
like a computer...
like an exorcist
evicting a demon.
Bring all these memories out
or I am sure
the wall of shadows
will grow too thick
in my soul,
too heavy
for any hand
to budge one brick...
to dislodge one fragment
I...I am one
whose time has come.
Remember those days...
sirens flashing,
handcuffs snapping in place
on my wrists.
My rage had reached
outside its boundaries,
namely that of my own mind...
extending into the physical world
to torment another human being,
yet I had been so numb
for so long that I
felt no shame.
Now as I find my life
drawing to a close
I sense
these sensations
have resurfaced.
This is my very own Atlantis,
and what an amazing construction
are these emotions of mine!
How long has it been since
we have been acquainted?
The days were
so young and unknowing,
hidden behind clouds...
so many years ago.
Certainly you come to me
to hear my tale,
as if my mouth
could still share the poetry
it once so freely
unleashed upon this world.
A crane lifts the sun
into the sky in my mind,
an intense orb of illumination
that burns away all the fog.
And oh!, if only it could
burn away the pain I feel
when these aging memories
are revealed.
The dust dances off the coffins.
Hear the creak
of ancient bones
as each sarcophagus
is opened from within.
Like mummies
these thoughts crawl forward.
So pain-ridden,
these memories!
Long ago...it feels
like a century has passed.
Let me take you back.
Although I may be balding
and curved like an S...
my skin marked by
all the adventures I have had,
there were days
when even water was young...
and so was I...standing
straight and handsome,
blond hair
flowing with such apparent health
from my scalp, and the
most seductive sapphire eyes
and tan skin
to ever be owned
by a male of this species.
Chiseled abdomen,
muscular arms,
a back which had
muscles that rippled
like ocean waves,
legs that could support
a god's weight and indeed I
was a Greek god,
so mighty in presence.
My hands and mouth
both had their ways
of pleasing people...
people of any gender...but
we are going further back
to explore the most
ancient of all ages,
prehistoric days
during which
my mouth pleased no one,
but my hand often pleased myself.
These were years when
my loneliness
accompanied the page
so I would not be alone
and bored.
If I must be lonely then
at least let me not be bored.
So we can now take
these words and use them
as our time machine,
because words
are powerful creatures...
strong enough
to carry us all forward
or backward in time.
As it is, we are going back.
No longer is it so close
to the century's end.
1997? no, thank you.
1984? fall much further back!
1972? well, closer.
1969? middle of the road.
1943? Well, it is here that
all my energies collapse.
Fade away. This is the
year I turned fourteen.
World War Two was just
coming to its end.
I had just discovered
how lonely and angry
it was to be me.
(My other torment was
too many hormones
to burn, but these topics
will all be covered.)
Right now let me
reset my mind
to recall that mindset
when my bones
were stronger,
my ego
more fragile,
and the days
(much like now)
could not pass quickly enough.
Go back there
with me, listeners,
if you care to share
the pain with me.
ACT ONE
Scene One
Rick: In the beginning, I was shy.
A word never left my tongue
unless it was demanded.
Were these sentences
pearls of wisdom, gems
of true beauty?
I thought not, yet teachers
and parents all admired
the collage of syllables
that weighed down the air
when I chose to speak.
My peers must have
found genius in my words
as well, because their
fists of jealousy
assaulted me quite often.
Yet I cared not,
worried not,
because I was not
going to let their hatred
beat me into new shapes,
remold me to their liking,
as if I had been born
without a mouth...
without a brain.
If I were
to let my spirit crack
under the weight of my fear,
then I would have
clipped my own wings.
And what was I doing,
letting their gestures
send a flame of fear
to burn the
infinite crystal forests
embedded in my mind?
I had to fight,
I had to harden myself
somehow. There must be
a technique which I can
use, some device that can
function simultaneously
as weapon and shield.
Upon that dusty path I set,
a road that would
lead me to my Excalibur.
I began my search.
Scene Two
Rick: Been traveling for months
and no sign of salvation.
Throat parched,
lips cracked and bleeding.
Delusional rage
absorbing the days.
When I stumble and fall
a century passes
before I hit the ground.
Yet there is no
pillow of leaves
to soothe the anguish.
Just a gathering
of angry stones.
Where do I find the place
to either
store my misery
or numb myself
before I commit suicide?
As I crouch there
groggy on all fours,
I see a crimson pearl
fall and splash
across the stones.
My skin has ruptured,
my fluids are flowing out of me.
Recollections of afternoons
when spirit was young
and full of strength,
with abilities...
to fly with eagles,
to bend everyone's will.
But the sun is closing
its hazy wisdom, no longer
burning me into blindness.
And it lets me
drink the lies that you breathe.
Some people
have only to awaken
to escape their nightmares.
Sleep is my retreat.
No job, no
money, no love, no
friends to call my own.
In this town
there are
secret agents
out to get me.
My name
(Rick Sodden)
is carved into
the hearts
of the dying.
I should have been born
to run with the wolves.
Fourteen years of loneliness.
Where can I hide my pain away?
No, not today. My travels
must end now as the
sky tucks away our light.
Denied again,
still holding all my rage
in my head.
No outlet yet.
Fall asleep to
drift, to shudder
during moments when the
waking world nearly
calls me back to my life.
Scene Three
At school I hear them
making sport of me.
This corner is
dull and dusty and dead.
I choose to be here
because hugging close to
shadows will save me.
And they cannot see
my eyes as I study
a rare beauty named Mary,
an angel destined to
eternally look fourteen.
She has porcelain charm.
She does not hear my breath,
does not acknowledge
the temperature increase
which should register
when this body heat of mine
rolls off me
and pours into her.
My only saviors
are recess and English class
because during recess I can
physically hide away
from my classmates,
and in English I can
escape as well...only this time
the hiding place is in my head.
Our teacher, a gentleman
named Mr. Krendall, is the one
who gives me all these
joyous treasures to behold...
all these poems
of Byron and Dickinson,
poems he recites
to I alone, because
it is his company
which I seek during recess,
and he has taught me
to love Hemingway and Dickens.
So today he
holds the last hope
for my salvation.
In its weary last seconds
class crushes another day.
Let the others file out.
Soon it is just the two of us,
his knowledge so brilliant that it
lights up Mr. Krendall's skull
as if it were surrounded
by a halo...as if
he might be an angel.
As I approach his desk,
blinded by his light, I look
away from the glare to notice
pretty Mary fixed in the doorway.
When she notices me looking
the seal of her lips breaks to
release a smile, a gesture
meant only for me.
Our souls connect on this thread
when my own mouth
expels a grin. Oh!, what joy!
My heart crashes against my ribs.
(Certainly we all know how this feels.)
And with no more gestures
and not even a single word,
she is gone...vanished
and the smile has
been stolen from my memory.
Mr. Krendall: Rick, your eyes
show footprints of sorrow.
Why did you stay so late in the
classroom when you should be
outside, letting yourself
run home and revel
in the presence of your youth?
Rick: Mr. Krendall, your wisdom
glows within me. I can
only aspire to get within
1,000,000 miles
of your greatness.
But you know I
have gained no friends
at this place,
where depression coats the walls
and misery fills my seat.
Sometimes I get the sense
that my mental baggage
is am excessive amount
for a boy of only fourteen
to have to carry. My question
for you is, how do I destroy
this misery? How do I
erase it from this world?
Mr. Krendall: Well, my boy, the only
choice you have is to let your
spirit shine, let your words
and wisdom shake the brains
of your peers until they are dizzy.
As long as you let
your true self show,
there will be no hassles. At first
people may act cold, but given time
the barriers they use to
hold you back will dissolve.
Rick: But what if I lack
the nerve to speak?
Mr. Krendall: Until such a time
I recommend
you grab paper and pen
so that you may unleash your pain,
let it burden the page.
Paper can withstand
all sorts of anguish.
So spill your inner demons
out on paper, just like
a true poet should do.
Rick: A poet? You think I
could make a decent poet?
Mr. Krendall: Rick, I know you hide
yourself, smear clay all over your
body and bathe in mud
to cover your reality.
But my eyes
have been trained to
elude such disguises, and
beneath your costume I see
another Byron,
another Tennyson,
another (dare I say it) Shakespeare.
Rick: And with these words
fondling my brain
I got myself pen and paper
just as Mr. Krendall had suggested.
Scene Four
Rick: To record,
to retell,
to report!
Oh! all these lives are mine
to hold in my brain
and criticize.
Let me bash them
from the safety of my skull.
So we shall now hear
the detailed tales
of a high school " reject,"
a kid like me
who lost his cool
because my personality
was not like putty.
I could not be bothered to be that way,
reshaping myself every time
some new fashion or fad
hit the scene.
Wandering those lonely high school halls,
full of shadows and torment all meant
for me, I had to tolerate it all.
Hairy monkeys
tugging their dicks
and flaunting their muscles
and tossing their footballs
and girls wanting to
lick their balls...
and not one thin thread
of conscience in their head.
Such lovely girls, I thought,
letting these apes
demoralize/degrade/rape them!
A jock being intimate
with a girl is like
a monkey in a sacred graveyard:
the result is total demolition
of that which
someone else
holds as holy...yet this
opinion of mine was
forced so swiftly
to come crashing down.
Because I tried...gave it my all..
strained my willpower to attempt
to become
the beloved
of one of those poor cheerleading
bimbos,
who always had a
string of fluorescent complaints
to insult their jock fuck-friends.
And desires!
Oh, could these girls
ever so banally (and yet at the
same time eloquently)
speak their desires!
" I wish I could date
someone who isn't so wild,
so aggressive,
so macho,
such a jerk...
you know, a nice guy."
A nice guy? Excuse me,
but did you say
A NICE GUY?
I know all about being
a nice guy, okay?
I know all about
coming home to
sit alone and
explore your dreams
and analyze yourself,
asking questions like:
" why am I such a loser?"
And I often wonder
why they never dated me.
Better yet,
why did they never
see me?
Like a ghost I
approached them
and was not heard
when I spoke.
They passed through me,
carrying away only an
invisible ectoplasmic stain
and an unexplainable chill
as evidence that I
had been near them.
Yes, those girls
with their lipstick,
their egos,
their beauty...
Ah yes,
their BEAUTY
so perfect
and so BRILLIANT
on the outside.
Yes, they radiated such
intense illumination.
How was there any way
for them to see how
shallow they were?
Cheerleaders, princesses,
and at the other end
of their spectrum there were
the SMART GIRLS
who were also
somehow too good for me.
A higher intelligence
so guys left them alone.
No male wants
a girlfriend that may be
smarter than him...
except me.
No matter how the
constellations may be arranged
or what cracks the
patterns may be taking
when you read the oracle bones,
it is not going to change
the way my Stonehenge is arranged.
I would love you
if you would let me,
you lovely studious female,
but even you
push me away...
even you
feel you have the right
to be picky.
And therefore
by shunning me
you prove
your intelligence is not
so 100% superior
as you would have
the rest of us humans
believe.
You believe yourself to be
above me...out of my league...
and in thinking so
you prove
that you can slip
into airhead mode.
Either that
or you use the
" fear factor" as your excuse.
Smart Girl: Oh...oh, no,
relationships scare me.
Rick: Do they?
Well, from Mr. Krendall I have learned
to walk into the flames of my fear.
And I have come out
feeling stronger, more resilient.
*****
With these words,
my friends, you can tell
how high school
went for me.
All I hope
is that these words,
these memories,
have created a connection
between us. I think you
might have found
you have similar memories...
like, for example,
let us recall those
monkeys so favored
by the student body
and teachers alike,
those brainless jocks
who possessed
only motorized skills.
No power of rational thought
could ever penetrate
their thick-layered skulls.
Only in jocks
do we find
such a dense cranium!
Sitting at lunch,
off on my own,
I can remember...
Jock: Hey, you gonna eat this?
Rick: Well, yes I...
Jock: Huh, what's that? You're
gonna give me da rest? Thanks.
Rick: Hey, get your damn hands off my...
Jock: Now gimme your money
and your pride, everything you got.
Rick: I've got nothing.
Jock: Don't lie to me, four-eyes!
Narrator: An eruption of punches
makes our poor protagonist Rick
feel more at home on the ground...
his left eye persuaded to swell,
his nose broken and bleeding.
The pattern of the blood
as it hits the ground
almost mimics...so nearly conveys
the sadness that burdens Rick's
weary bones, so brittle
from the beginning
and getting even closer to snapping
as we speak.
Rick: And so you see
the beatings I took
while the student body
looked on
and laughed,
yet they did not
do this separately.
They laughed as one
because their bodies
were hollow shells. Lacking a soul
meant that if these creatures
looked the same on the outside,
then they really were
all the same one, like-minded beast.
So the student body monster
looked on and chuckled
as I was broken
and bruised and cried myself to sleep.
Scene Five
Rick: But why?
Why cry my way into dreams
when the student creature laughed?
Because the student body
was something I never
had the chance to touch.
The beatings never caused a tear
to slip its salty way past my eye.
Loneliness did what
physical abuse could not.
For me to just share a thought
would have been enough
to break the stars
open wide, so wide.
Let their celestial secrets
rain down upon me.
The connection
between two human minds
of the opposite sex,
a connection that spells out
my unspoken wish...
a dream word
spelled out in my head,
one syllable,
glowing in psychedelic torment
in my brain...only my brain
carries the word of LOVE,
not my heart...
not this broken angel halo
eclipsed by fragile youth
that attempts to protect
a fragmented spirit.
You talk to me of eagles
exploring the purple skies
of tomorrow, while Martians
are digging the graves of the elders.
They unearth
a sacrificial table
upon which
Egyptian dream-realms
once sacrificed themselves.
My head
split open
suddenly fell victim
to a disease
which I created
and gave to myself,
a disease for which
I do not see fit to
create an antidote.
Martians...they
shrink themselves down
to the size of electrons
and infiltrate my mind,
studying my thoughts...
haunting my memories.
Venusians hear rumors
that their mortal red enemies
are located in my brain.
They come
with weapons,
a detail which the
Martians unfortunately overlooked.
And the red ones
are annihilated.
And I say,
thank you...
oh thank you for ridding
their extra weight
from my frustrated brain,
already reeling and confused
and strained by this life.
Venusian Leader: Why do
you see fit to thank us?
We have killed them
only to replace their evil
with our own, because we seek to
destroy your kind by this infiltration.
Even as we speak,
microscopic Venusian hit squads
are invading
every last one
of your race.
Men and women...
parents...grandparents...
wives...husbands...children...
not even babies
shall be spared.
ALL OF YOU
DESTINED TO DIE!
Rick: Well I will not allow that.
You can tear all the others apart.
I care not for them,
as they care not for me.
But I will save myself,
work myself,
build my muscles...
build my resistance.
This is war.
Although it has not yet begun,
the outcome is already decided.
I have won
because I will it to be so!
YOU WILL NOT BEAT ME!
I am sick of the days
of letting people
beat me into nothing.
Here is where it ends.
Venusian Leader: Do whatever your
feeble mind thinks it will take
to banish us, but you
will never lose our company.
We will travel the
highways of your
veins and arteries
because we are going to
begin this internal decay
at your feet and
work our way
up to your head
ever so slowly,
negotiating our path in blood.
What fun would it be
to destroy your mind and
therefore your existence?
Rick: You sadists!
I will find a way
to purge you from my body.
Narrator: And so this war began.
Rick's arms,
flabby and unused for so long...
two flaps of flesh
decorating his bones...
were so sore
after his initial visit
to the weight room that,
once he was done, Rick feared
he had strained too much...
worried that the tendons had
ripped away and that he
was helping finish the
Venusians' work all the more swiftly.
His legs and abdominals
felt similar flares of agony,
yet nothing happened
as a result of the pain
other than
a dual metamorphosis
on Rick's part.
Weight melted off him.
Signs were soon visible
that he was going to
become a stud
someday soon.
Yet the evil demons
plaguing his capillaries
did not vanish.
Then, one day as the sun
made its bed with caution not to
wake anyone, Rick's
thoughts were of
a lovely lady named Lisa...
while he lay in bed,
wrapped up
in both the dark and his blankets,
a pair of shorts
being his only attire.
Rick: Oh, how she curves
and lives
and breathes a waking dream for me,
a young man who has
for 16 years gone untouched.
World War Two cripples the other
side of the world,
yet here
nestled safely in my teenage world
I feel none of this.
All I can sense is this
anguish of denial.
Yet...beneath the
fabric of these shorts
I can sense something stirring...
it is that rather odd
piece of flesh,
a thin long rod
hardening now as my
thoughts turn to Lisa.
And I realize she is
not beyond my reach.
All I have to do is
recreate her in my mind,
naked (or as I imagine
she might be when naked)
and ready to pleasure me.
Venusian: No! Do not do
what you are thinking or else
that god which you worship
and fear so obediently
will cripple your joy
in the fires of Hades!
Stop this, stop this!
Rick: But why do you shout so?
And what of this nervous stutter I
detect in your voice?
Scarcely had this thought
of masturbation entered my head
when you spoke up.
Ah, you have sailed through
my body right down
to my groin. If I were to
ejaculate now, you would come
gushing out with my fluids.
In this case, I shall put my
hand to work! And Lisa,
unbeknownst to her,
will help me purge myself of you!
Narrator: And so Rick lowered his
shorts. His hand and mind
went to work,
imagining Lisa's mouth
engulfing his hard flesh,
her tongue licking
the purple swollen head.
In fantasy
Rick sees
her breasts
in his hands
and his tongue
attacks her nipples.
She falls to her back,
legs spread, and he
so easily slips his cock
into her...and as if he were
the most experienced partner
he is thrusting in and out.
Soon in an explosion of white heat
Rick ends not only
his fantasy world but also the
torture visited upon him
by the Venusians. They flood out
of him screaming curses,
but Rick can only laugh.
Rick: As I said, there are no more
days or hours, minutes or
even seconds left
in which you will find me
letting other people
break my spine.
Narrator: The next day
Rick gave Lisa a dozen roses
because it is her beauty
which helped him to
banish the Venusians.
Not expecting anything from her,
Rick simply gave her
the roses and climbed into the clouds.
Little did he know
how intrigued she was
by his gift, and here
we see the seed planted...soon to
bloom into life, and when it does...
we will see what Rick has become
but until then
we join him
again and again and again
as he repeats the careful
strokes of self-love, because Rick
enjoyed it, and his body was
spawning so many hormones
that he had to
squirt some out every now and then.
Of course
this became quite frequent, yet all
while Rick was experiencing his
masturbation phase he was
still working out, still
carving the fat away from his body.
At long last, he was no
longer ashamed to be
on the " skins" team
when a game of basket ball
was announced in gym class.
Men and women
both admired his physique.
Men came
to ask him
how he had done this
miraculous shrinking,
and women came to
tell him how attractive
his hardened body was.
Beneath it all,
Rick was still shy,
so none of these ladies
found peace beside him.
He did not locate
happiness inside them.
Rick never said a word
so he continued to experience
the incredible joy
of masturbation afternoons,
doing it wherever he could:
his bedroom,
his bathroom,
his shower...
even the school bathroom once...
because he lived
in a state of virginity
and his cowardice made sure
there would be no change
of address for a long time.
*****
High school,
so full of shame
and conformity
passes. Now it is time to move out,
experience the real world.
Rick: College, a collection
of buildings alien to me.
Names in my head.
are erased and
soon to be replaced,
I hope, because my list of
friends had been expanding
while my senior year of high school
unraveled itself...but now, the
last year of that lifestyle
has been spent (and wisely, I feel)
so I must push forward.
18 and a freshman again.
This is the same road I
have traveled four years ago,
yet there are subtle changes.
Subtle from where I stand now,
but if I squint enough to look
I can see in the distance
that the obstacles this time around
are more varied and difficult.
Hello to my roommate.
He too possesses a chiseled body
and blond hair
although my skin
contains a slightly deeper tan.
His eyes are a hollow
and mysterious brown, while mine
are a glowing, innocent sapphire.
Named Ted, he is lucky enough to
have a girlfriend whose
beauty blinds me. Already I
can imagine my cock
burrowing into her.
But I store these thoughts away
to be explored later.
Organize my belongings
so carefully
as if I were
constructing another galaxy.
And I fall into skies
that lack stars,
find myself blinding demons
that came crawling out of
my wardrobe to steal my fingers.
Without fingers,
how can I record my pain,
remove it from my mind,
and stick it on the page?
Where are the angels,
the bolts of holy justice to
defeat these monsters? This
should not be my task,
and yet no one assists me.
No mortals can know
the position I have been given.
Days fade away.
Wisdom pushes through the haze.
Professors and their
eager equations, lying on the page
just waiting
for me to replace the variables
with some exact numbers
so I can put myself
through the paces
and prove once again
what genius possessed their creators
as if their skulls had harbored
reincarnated spirits...the
gods of mathematics.
Yes indeed,
what brilliance has
graced our planet!
Now gone, dead
but it is recycled.
The grand wheel
always turning.
Each generation has
its poets. When will mine appear?
Give it some time,
and I will.
I will wait
and wade through
the tissue paper
as I continue to
pleasure myself,
despite all the beautiful
wonderfully warm teenage
female figures into which I could
excrete my DNA. A closed mouth will
always keep me lonely.
Every day I have
a gap between classes
...12:30 until 4...
and Ted has class from 1 until 5...
so as long as my stamina is
completely enriched, I can see myself
finishing some very fulfilling
masturbation sessions.
But I hope there are not
many of them to experience.
Something tells me
my life is going to change soon.
Soon, very soon...I hope.
ACT TWO
Rick: Still a teenager,
19 to be exact,
yet my life is changing,
as you shall see.
Scene One
Rick: Finally, I appeal and
my mouth is open.
Observe that street corner
upon which I stand in my memory
yet I do not stand alone.
Lisa is beside me
while the summer
coats our smiles with emptiness,
steals the sheep we once used to
count our way to sleep.
Yes, the same Lisa whose
image I used to
rid my body of that
Venusian hit squad.
Apparently the thorns on those
roses must have
pricked her soul
because that gesture of mine
has been constantly reflected
in the lake of her mind,
or so she tells me.
Lisa: Why did you give me
such a gift?
Rick: Because...of all the faces
I happen to see during the day
yours is the only one
which I have judged
to be possessed of true beauty.
It is as though
billions of women
were given mediocre
or hideous appearances
to give you all that
collective beauty...
compiled so splendidly
in your face and body.
Lisa: You cause such color
to rise in my cheeks as your
words are sewn into the
tapestry of my mind,
fixing the image of your face
in the fabric of my life.
Your muscles,
rippling like the tide
drifting into the beach.
Your hair,
so healthy that
it is like Samson's.
Your eyes,
carrying the true beauty
of the essence of man.
your spirit,
glowing like a sun
and just as large
as that globe
which we know to give us life.
Rick: I would feel
such intense happiness
pouring into my soul if
you and I could
perhaps spend a majestic evening
alone...in only one another's company,
a night like the poets
used to adopt
as the topic for their love songs,
a night like that one
during which Romeo
revealed his love to Juliet.
Lisa: Yes, my dearest Rick
of the angels...the answer is yes.
Rick: Upon this adventure
we did indeed depart.
The noise of nightmares
did not bother me
when she was in my arms.
And my poets
had finally arrived...born, but
not yet come around to writing.
Some of them wrote in prose, but
this was a very thin way to disguise
the crown of poetry adorning their heads.
Ginsberg, Keruoac, Burroughs...
between these three
who needed more?
Here I had
my three wise men.
Let them come
and crown me king
because I was born
this fateful day.
And Lisa is my gift.
Who could beat
such a token?
Not even
unearthing King Tut's tomb
(before thieves saw fit to
rip the magic from those walls)
would be able to top this
as the most amazing
of all gifts.
No longer did I feel
as if I were falling into
my own doom.
Like water, days spent with Lisa
were impossible to hold. they
slipped away. This time around,
there were no regrets
about the way
I spent this time...
just waiting until
she offered herself to me.
My first woman
opened herself to me
when I was 20
and 1949 was busy seeing a pregnant
East Asia give birth
to the People's Republic of China,
and an evil madman's iron hand
extended over his country,
just like Hitler had stretched
out his appendage to salute
his audience, so distant and confused
because there was no solution
to their WW I defeat
other than blame
and madness followed.
Lisa was there before me,
her lips and face and
entire being
melting into mine,
while her hands
traveled like cars
around my back,
my shoulders,
my hips,
my buttocks.
My curious digits
were magnetized
and fondled her breasts...
going so deep
as if she were the earth itself.
Break the crust,
the second layer.
Go right to the core!
Skin on skin!
My notion of God and religion
had been depleted, nearly faded away
by the time Lisa and I
stood alone in that room
so I felt no Catholic guilt...did not
feel as if I were committing a sin.
If it were a SIN,
did such morally-wrong deeds
always feel so good?
I decide to seek out the answer
by experimentation. Soon my hands
were peeling her shirt away,
as she did so with my clothing,
to admire
(and to better explore)
each others' torso.
The pale heaven
of her breasts and stomach...
Lisa: The eternal glory
of his shoulders and arms,
alive with tense muscles...
the dynamic warmth
of our bare skin
touching...all five senses
wide open and receiving
sensations whose exquisiteness
had been unknown
until that day...
Rick: Yes, that day
upon which I so carefully
stripped away her entire outfit
just like a sculptor
chipping away the excess stone
so that he may find
the statue that waits
underneath the shell.
And the reality of her
(when combined with
memories of the fantasy)
was beautiful.
Lisa
upon her back,
legs spread,
perfect upside-down triangle
of pubic hair.
My fingers
found the opening
so carefully hidden under the hair.
No blueprint existed for me
when I pressed my tongue
into that hot pink landscape
but I did a fine job
of exploring,
as Lisa's moans indicated.
Fingers thrusting in,
pulling out,
while my tongue
ever so skillfully
assaulted the hard knob of muscle
which was her focal point, the button to
push to activate her pleasure.
As I licked away, Lisa
was shoving her hips up to my face.
One particular thrust
was enough to let me know
the climax had arrived.
Lisa: Once I felt the orgasm
wash over me like rain,
I got Rick on his feet
while my knees
supported my weight.
His jeans
were so eager
to release
his swollen cock.
When his pants were
at his ankles, the penis
was awake and
pointing at my face,
bobbing in anticipation. My hand
helped it settle down temporarily,
but its owner was beyond hope.
Rick was burning,
his excitement leaking out through
EVERY PORE,
so I let my lips
separate and
take his purple-headed cock
into my mouth.
As my jaws
settled around Rick's penis,
he asked me to be cautious.
Rick: My excitement
was concentrated completely
and directly, with no dilution,
in my penis. The slightest
bit of erotic touch
could have sent me
exploding into her mouth.
But she knew
how to control
every spasm of joy.
Eventually, however, I
could wait no longer.
Lisa: I got on my back,
separating my legs to
let him enter me, and
he did
so wonderfully.
Rick: It was
as if I were an expert.
After a few thrusts following entry,
I found the urge
to empty
my testicles, and
the muscles in my cock
twitched violently
as the fluids left me.
Lisa: But the connection we shared
was so much more than this.
Rick: Music, literature, philosophy,
social and moral debates...on these
and so many other topics
we either agreed
or we were able to
quite easily explain our views
to one another
to see the world in a different way.
Once it was so mysterious
and terrifying to think of someone
sharing so much, and yet
here it was happening.
Lisa: We were a fusion of spirits,
two people bound as one
at the spiritual level.
This is how I saw it.
Yet Rick's interpretation
was taken
from the reading
of a different oracle.
Rick: Quite clearly
we were a
" good couple"
to a point.
She viewed us
as two people
who destined to be
metaphysical Siamese twins.
I had always seen us
as two mountaineers
scaling a Mt. Everest.
Once we reached the top,
it was our goal to see
if we could tough it out there
together for the rest of our lives
or if we would have to head
back down into the rest of the world.
Lisa's decision that we
were meant to live forever together
sent the shadows of fear
scurrying through me.
Much sooner than I had hoped,
the intense star
that burned inside me for her
started to lose its fuel
and its shine.
With the illumination
so quickly vanishing,
what was I to do?
Having never had a girlfriend,
I was unsure how to handle
the end. Why did this
have to be my burden?
Ted had been dating his girl
for 3 years, and there
had not been one sign
that his love for her
was being mysteriously depleted.
Sometimes I may be fooled in life,
but I have got to train my eye
to spot these illusions faster.
My life can never
have one fragment of good luck.
(At least that is what teenage
nihilism had me believing
at the time.)
I considered:
" What would happen
if Lisa and I were
to call it quits?"
Then I would be alone again,
yet avoiding loneliness
and solitude
was no reason to keep dating someone.
So I had a
heavy choice
ready to crush me
as it dangled over my life.
And I never wanted
to hurt Lisa, yet I knew
some blows cannot be softened.
Scene Two
Rick: Days, they know the
speed which the human heart desires.
They know
how to pass
as quickly as light,
and they can crawl to
extract as much torture
from each second
as they possibly can.
And they tell her...
tell Lisa...words have to spill
so slowly from my soul.
But her intuition knows
something is amiss.
As I casually release
these waterfall truths,
they crush her...
they burn like flames
and she releases
her own waterfalls.
Oh, her eyes...
her eyes
are the source
of all my misery.
Why is the blue of this iris
so much deeper now?
Sorrow
sorrow
no glory in destruction
why
why
my eyes
scan the world
and I see
everyone else
shares happiness
with their other parts
but why
why don't I lover her anymore?
Why can't I love her anymore?
Why do emotions
just simply dissolve
without explanation?
How can I just wake up
and decide
I do not love her now
when my feelings
were so intense
just the other day?
Such mysteries
are depths of ourselves,
the oceans of our soul, that
not even we can know.
Not even of ourselves to know,
our own secrets,
locked away from all of us.
We cannot solve the puzzle.
Where do the shadows lie?
They lie within us...
they lie to us.
God shares no
whispered words
down here
anymore.
His dreams
have all died
with Him
and slipped away
like I do...
falling, fading,
tumbling and curling,
twirling and swirling...
swirling away
down the whirlpool.
I am being sucked away.
My own hideous nature
is ripping me apart...
Oh, but why must I feel
hideous just because
my feelings have changed?
So I attempt to say,
" Let's please try again,"
but the words
do not ring true.
The pain reverberates
even deeper into her soul
and she hates me...
she hates me.
ANOTHER HUMAN HATES ME
wants no part of me
not even friendship
wants to sever all ties
(like the doctor
cutting me from my mother)
cut me
hurt me
bleed me now
bleed me now
I am vacant and dreary,
floating before nothing...
the great almighty Void.
(what intrigues me the most
about this void
is how much I
resemble it
on the inside.)
Empties out,
a pod with no peas.
you can see through me
like water like clouds.
too thick to dream
fall under the illusion
begin to exploit the magi
stealing all the queens
-from every deck of cards I own-
(I am left incomplete)
You steal pieces from my soul!
You steal the love I had,
the love I wanted to keep for her!
Now look at her, my poor Lisa...
so devastated,
so bitter
and hopeless...
feeling as if I
were the only one for her...
as if there will be
no other love
to fill the vacant chambers
of her heart,
her spirit,
her mind...
and in turn
I too am left
shuddering,
shattered
in my spirit
like a building
whose support beams
have been erased
by time.
Falling, falling...
turning full circle...
pain like this
is circular.
Always going round,
never ending...
nothing to break
this misery apart.
MAKE IT STOP!
I feel so hollow inside
when I
look at this disaster,
and now
summer is crawling
toward me...
too shallow,
too quick,
too soon.
Do not behold
my sorrow,
my shallow soul.
Only five feet deep
and I still cannot
explore its depths.
Summer,
with its tendrils of gold; there is
naked flesh to assault my senses.
Bared to taunt me
for good...forever.
Engraved in my mind...
no, burned into it...
not exactly like beauty
but so distant
like peace...
daring to see myself
in the mirror.
I see
puffy, heavy eyes.
Tears
damage flesh
like acid.
Burn me forever.
(they will they will)
No time to redeem.
Lisa explodes
in a rain of fire
never to succumb...
never to fall victim
to my brittle words again,
yet I must be strong...
must stick
my way through this.
Shall I save my head
and disappear?
Shall I change my ways
and call me queer?
No, I just have to
hide the deadly tears
that threaten to turn the tides,
change my mind,
make a choice
and must hold fast.
Summer is coming.
This year,
this love,
this pain,
will pass.
Scene Three
Rick: How mysterious
are the ways in which
we lose our
broken, unwanted memories.
Who throws the switch
that kills the illumination
which just a moment ago
exposed every aspect of this
anguish to torment my soft brain?
I care not.
Narrator: Now we join Rick as
the summertime burns
majestic patterns across his hands.
Although this is summer for other people,
for Rick it is spring.
He has been reborn.
Once again
happiness has
opened in his soul.
The petals of this precious flower
spread throughout his veins,
setting them
in a luminous state,
turning them to glow
psychedelic colors.
Perhaps his anguish
was made of water
and the summer heat
has made it evaporate
out of his system.
When he thinks of Lisa
he remembers
a relationship
that caved in upon itself
like a building
so aged and decrepit that
its roof could not
even support the weight
of a sparrow.
No longer does he feel
the sorrow or the regret
of severing the rope that
held taut between their two spirits.
Now on days too humid to measure
out in terms of how it
corrupts his dreamy brain,
Rick is leaving
just a dusty memory
back where he used to be...
in his room, on his bed,
the sheets pulled up to
become his shield against the
world while he masturbated
stale love into the fabric of the air.
Oh what wonders
he thought he was missing,
and how correct
were these assumptions!
Because now at night
he roams the dull city streets,
waits his turn in line
as the burden of the air
is lifted from his spirit...
and all this
just because he sees
a scantily-clad beauty
swinging her sexual magnificence
under the sky to let
all the gods see her
hips moving, flowing so gracefully...
echoes of rivers
smoothly melting into the sea.
Stiff scent
of whiskey, no wine to
gently coax the pallet.
Liquor
hitting these
teenage minds...
solid as a brick.
A sliver of sacred parchments
will tell all these men,
carved out as muscular
as any Greek demigod,
that Rick has
at last hit his age of release
when one no longer
needs to fear
the authenticity level
of a fake ID.
And we,
we sit home
stale and rotting
while the young
have their way with one another...
but still Rick
has no lover.
It seems as though
his appeal
started and finished
with Lisa.
Unfortunately the heat of desire
often swells in Rick's groin,
pressuring him to do something...
and he always
does the same thing:
lets the weight
remain on his tongue,
goes home...masturbates.
Yet tonight,
however, the results
shall not be the same.
Whether Rick holds back
his vocabulary or not
does not make
a difference tonight.
Here comes this angel,
this exquisite link to the
days when we were created
in God's image...
days when we were perfect.
Amber
is the name
uttered upon the moaning lips
of those who dare to
sweat alone beneath their sheets
and dream
that they could ever
be with her.
Her face is the mask
which certain men
place upon their loved ones
when the time comes
to bare everything...
the legs,
the chest,
the buttocks,
the shoulders...
because she is the desire
which most men share
as they wander this
humid subterranean darkland.
She sees nothing
but the flaws in this men...
sees the skin
of that first apple
still caught
between their teeth.
Amber: Too perfect,
I think...I know
I am too perfect
to dwell upon them...to let
my voice linger in their ears.
Rick: Look at this one, passing
like a breeze.
Wind and this lady
are so alike because I
can never hope
to hold either one.
Might as well
exercise this liver of mine.
BARTENDER, ANOTHER BEER!
Narrator: To Amber his voice
is the sound
of another angel speaking.
She looks to see
Rick's hand extended across the bar
and imagines
it has stretched itself out
to reel her in.
Amber: Who is this creature,
the likes of whose
beauty I have never seen?
I must not let this night end
unless his name
penetrates my ears.
Narrator: Trembling in her motion
(she has never trembled before)
Amber starts to approach Rick
who, seeing her draw near,
feels earthquakes
shaking his intestines
just like two old friends
shaking hands.
Oh these tremors,
they know they are welcome here.
Many years have passed
during which they made their home
in the dark warmth of Rick's gut,
just waiting
for a stimulus
to awaken
their mighty grip
on his body.
And this quaking
disturbs his spirit
because although the chi,
the inner spirit or energy,
dwells throughout the body,
its main doorway...
the sacred gate, the eternal path...
is the stomach.
And if this entrance is
unfocused and unsteady,
how can it accept more chi?
Rick: Focus, focus!
Oh, so nervous
in this time of need.
All the desperation
flows in to fill the void
where my strength
and mild charms
once supported my bones.
Oh God, even the marrow has
been drained away. I feel the
fuel of anxiety occupy my time,
my days and dreams
of miscommunication.
Be careful.
She is carrying
her beauty,
her halo,
her prism,
(all aspects
of herself)
in your direction.
Yes, this is true...
but this does not mean
she is approaching you.
Narrator: Regardless of his knowledge
that being obvious
is one of the main turn-offs
when searching bars for women,
his eyes are anchored to her...
weighed down
like a Mafia rat
when the cement on his feet
drags him to meet
the Lady of the Lake
where she sleeps
at the bottom
of her watery bed.
He has to know,
has to see if
she is going where
he thinks she is,
and when Amber
allows her beauty
to gather up in his eyes
like tears,
Rick realizes the truth.
Suddenly he can
feel the world again.
Queasiness claims his stomach
as its territory.
Yet despite his illness
he can sense unease
also rents an apartment
in her body as well,
and this realization
comforts him.
Amber: My voice may quiver,
it may be weak...
yet I must know
what might your name be?
Rick: To share it
with a beauty like you
would be like
regaining purity
so we could all once again
enter the Garden of Eden.
My name is Rick Sandburn, and if
the inquiry is not so rude,
I would like to hear this fine
young lady utter her name.
Amber: That name
which covers the entirety of me
is Amber Sladen, and to be here
talking to you
is like
knowing I have a home
guaranteed in Heaven.
Rick: Thank you, miss.
Narrator: We could follow this
scene so daring and
dripping with eroticism,
but the words exchanged were many
and my time will not last forever
so I will swiftly inform you
these two soon
were sharing a dance
and then a bed...
yes, Rick
the king of masturbating...
prince of loneliness...
was given permission
to lie naked
with the queen of the bar scene...
the princess of so many fantasies.
Only one night
was able to record
their passion,
and what a night it was!
Rick's tongue was so diligent
when he finally decided to
massage her clit,
and that
is the only skill
a man needs
to be famous:
superb mastery of
giving a clit a tongue bath.
Amber, being unable
to store all her intimate details
as well as being a very popular woman,
will soon tell of her adventure
with Rick...and she does so.
With the release
of such information
women start flocking to him.
Every night
the condoms one can find
in Rick's garbage can
have been blessed. Their skin
is carrying the majestic
vaginal juices of some
women so beautiful
that it seems as if
we are
a society of Helens,
which can be seen as
nothing other than ironic
because Rick's hometown
is Troy.
Rick: Summer and I,
we both came.
We both fought
a hectic battle
to hold back my excitement
on that night
when amber approached me.
I remember
it had been raining
that night.
And it is no coincidence
that on that night
my life changed.
Baptism, baptism!
REBIRTH!!!!!
For years,
my feet
had burdened
the ground,
carrying the weight
of a loser...
a nobody,
a ghost.
2 years here
and now I have finally
started to live.
Unlock the gates, ladies!
No longer are there days
when my youth is crippled
and those pretty girls
hide their vaginas in their
arrogance from me
because the word
has spread
(like so many legs) before me
that I have a mystical tongue
that extracts sensations
from the center
of womanly nerve endings
which no other man
even knew existed.
Yes, I have
carefully navigated this
warm, pink flesh,
so expertly steering
my tastebud ship.
I have survived the jungle
so often threatening to gag me.
It wanted to choke out my life,
to rip out my heart...
to hold it aloft and say,
" Here...here, ladies, is your
pleasure-god's end!"
But I have conquered it all.
So many orgasms
have found their
genesis
at the tip of my tongue.
How many, you say?
I do not care to count!
Narrator: And as his fame grew,
the number of friends in his life followed...
young lonely men whom he once resembled,
yet now he has very
little patience with them.
Oh all the little Ricks of the world,
your prototype no longer
has any interest in thee.
On several evenings
his words burned
with threats of physical corruption
if these Rick clones would not
part ways with him.
And here
in these occasions
we are able to see
Rick is no more.
Just a shell.
Hollow is this man.
Emotions
no longer various,
just black and white.
Here we start to witness
the fall of the Rick that was,
a kind spirit,
so friendly and giving that he
stood out in the crowd
of deception which is,
sadly, the world we fill.
Rick: Leave my side, you
burden of acne and misery. How
am I expected to thrive
when you interrupt the flow of my life?
Just a distraction, a joke
waiting for someone like me
to deliver the punchline
which hangs silent in the air,
impatient, a ball of
potential energy longing to be spent.
Well, let me help it to
realize its goals in this
world: to mock you, to
create that perfect moment
when your ego is weaker
than all other creatures
on this Earth.
Narrator: Laughter flows from beer mouths.
Ah, Rick, you are a hit...quite a card,
this young man...
but he has no heart.
He has to be shown
humility again, but it takes
so long to come around that
he has a chance to
explore the pits of inhumanity
much deeper than
anyone should ever go.
Scene Four
Narrator: So here we see
a delicate picture:
Rick and his new lover, Tira...
a true angel
blessed with her transitory bones
to carry a wonderful elf.
Caring, gentle, beautiful...
not the kind of gift
that ought to bestowed upon
the Rick we now know.
Rick: Fragile flower, do you think
I have the time to care for you...
the time to learn
how to maintain my balance
while on the tips of my toes
so that I do not damage you?
The world is a magician
set to make every second
vanish! Life is too fast for me
to bother learning how to
respect you, or love you,
or care for you, yet you
on the other hand must be
one with me every night.
Upon the blackboard of your heart
the chalk must always display
what pleases and infuriates me.
If I disturb the molecules of the air
with the weight of your name,
your brittle voice must
have an immediate response.
Whatever I want, you are
to get (or give)
and promote no questioning
and no protest to m desires.
You are mine now.
you have no self to defend,
no personal desires to satisfy.
All my wants are yours,
all my thoughts are yours.
Women's liberation
occupies their world,
but we live in our world.
So come here and kiss me, dear
(as if you could possibly say no!).
Everything is going just fine,
as long as you and I both agree
even the tiniest particle of dust in my nose
is a tragedy that could ruin the world,
while destruction of your spine
would register no more importance
than a passing breeze.
Narrator: And so you can see
on to what dark paths
our tragic Rick has stumbled.
The streets he wanders now
are steel and selfish,
so devoid of light
that he cannot even see his
reflection when he passes the
display windows of department stores,
reflective machinery that puts
more than the interior's merchandise
on display. All glass
has the ability to act
like a mirror, and these windows
do not defy their brethren.
Cocteau believed
one could walk through mirrors
if only the chance
were taken.
And these windows
so often repeat a historical image
that the world aches for Rick to see,
a revitalized image
of the days when
his soul was softer
and, despite his solitude,
he saw more joy
than he does now.
These windows show
the Rick that once was,
when he used to write
poetry that sang to the universe...
Past-Rick: I am that sawmill
which pressure could have closed.
How much can we spend
to wine and dine
extrapolated metaphors?
You break my creatures,
devour my forests,
and where is the place
that remains in which
I may comfortably
remove my clothing
and bathe,
wash away all the hopes and dreams
that will never be realized?
Corrupt your truth,
dead and wild youth.
I am a wizard stealing spirits.
God, yes...broken spirits grazing the
days of moral vanity.
Whiskers growing too thick.
Break me into sticks and stones
so that I may be used,
when you put this man
upon the chopping block, to
grind him (your enemy) into the dust.
His Word
no sane man would follow.
The misery and the ecstasy of it all
becomes apparent before the fall.
Tooth, decay for me
because the pain sends
sense back to my life...
sends me
back to living
a dream
crashing down upon itself.
Creak and crack
and shrivel of bones
when your winter schemes
make you forget
your summer dreams.
Having been lost, no sun will
ever come to melt away this snow
so heavy, chaining my limbs
to nothingness...yet I
cannot move, cannot breathe.
Easter comes too soon, it seems.
I try to stay awake,
but the wisdom won't keep me.
I try to stay asleep,
but the nightmare's intensity
makes this old brain of mine
beg me to wake up,
so I do...and when
I look around, I am
a captive to the discovery
that my bed is burning
and I
am the focal point...
the yearning, the desire,
the main goal
for which the flames
are blindly searching.
But too quickly, too soon,
I drown
and in these waters
I make my haven...
make myself
become a merman
and remain,
escaping the flames.
Never face the pain.
Narrator: Ah, life! What games you play!
How well-equipped were this
young man's faculties! Hopefully
he shall soon regain himself
as sure as the summer
will repossess the continent.
Turn, turn...oblivious to me,
oblivious to us all.
Do not extinguish
unless this tale is shared.
The world
must hear.
Hear, do you?
A young woman crying.
This would be
the one for whom Rick
so easily displays his lack of respect.
Tira, alone in her room
and so confused
by her boyfriend,
and wondering...
Tira: Is this how we love,
how we hold
and caress
another human's soul?
By declaring that the soul's owner
might as well already
have returned to the dust
from which she spawned?
Is this love?
I have never
known love,
yet something tells me
this is not it.
All his kisses
and caresses and
ecstasies of release
into my womb mean nothing.
If they have any definition at all,
it certainly is not love.
So why does he pretend?
Why bother to
deceive me,
making me think I am loved?
Narrator: Of course Rick is unaware
of her plight. But he is calling her
even as we hear Tira
question his love.
Rick: I have come to the realization
that you and I are not
matching halves of the same whole,
so we shall stop trying to shape
ourselves as suck. Love cannot be
forced. It should work naturally.
But I must let you know
this relationship does not end
because I feel there is
some flaw in my soul.
No, it is you
whose eyes do not glow,
whose beauty is not radiant,
whose talk bores me.
Brutal honesty is what you need
to give you a wake-up call.
Had you not bored me, you would
not be destines to
cry yourself to sleep tonight
alone in that bed of yours which
suddenly feels to big...too empty.
Narrator: And like some
evil specter, it is a puff of smoke
which masks Rick's disappearance.
When the smoke dissipates
one can view the expected scene:
a young woman's spirit
full of holes...
a World War city aftermath,
nothing more...nothing less.
All hope gone...shattered,
a crystal ball which
nobody and nothing can mend.
Tira: Oh if only I could
destroy him
as he has destroyed me,
but I do not even
have the strength
to reach out
and put this receiver
back on its hook.
All I have left
within me
are the tears which now
tread lonely paths
down my face.
Once they are gone,
I will have nothing left.
Rick has taken everything from me:
pride, joy, spirit, self-esteem...
not even my tears can be spent
and have the honor of saying,
" No, I am definitely not
a victim of Rick's."
Even these
were taken by him
and branded as his own.
Narrator: And what of our Rick?
How does he feel now that he has
ruined Tira?
I will ask the reader
to remember now
how devastated and tormented
Rick was when he was unable to
avoid a catastrophic break with Lisa...
but where is he now?
Rick: Dimly in the background
I could hear them saying Tira
was transforming...becoming
an alcohol sponge all because
I dropped her so casually
like a rock, as the saying goes.
But I barely heard the remark
because this new girl
(whose name I have already forgotten)
was quite a screamer.
Never has my penis
raised a woman's volume so high.
But here is the first,
glass shards exploding
across the floor
and if she were here
would Tira take
a sliver of that glass
and cut her wrists?
I would not be bearing
any surprises in my mind
if she did so.
Would she smear the blood
across my lips
in an attempt to give me
a sense of shame?
For a dull moment,
I wonder,
but I never care.
At any rate, a second later
the thought is completely gone.
The girl's screams of ecstasy
are all my brain pan can hold.
Girl: you must be Samson, every part of
you a wonder of human development! Oh,
how lucky a girl I am to be here
naked while this perfect sculpture
of bone and muscle ravages me!
Promise me,
promise me you will
love me all night long!
Rick: To you I say I promise
only one thing: to unleash my semen
(worth its weight in gold to you),
and that is all.
Girl: Who do you think you are?
Rick: I thought I was Samson,
as you so recently said.
Girl: What about giving me that glory
of the female orgasm? You promised to
deliver at least that pleasure!
Rick: So often have I heard people
say promises are made for us to break...
and besides, you have fingers. why not
achieve that glory by your own hand?
Narrator: With that, the insensitive Rick
drifts off at age 21. Oh, so soon
the redemption will come...but first
Rick has a surprise to uncover for
himself, and then...a further descent.
ACT THREE
Narrator: Before you proceed, reader,
take caution that we are now
entering unpleasant territory. Imagine
1954 as a thriving ocean of
Rick's mid-twenties but also
recreate the dread he feels
once he makes a certain discovery.
Scene One
Narrator: And here he is now,
our protagonist Rick,
waiting to see the doctor
and skimming a magazine
while he sits so handsomely
in his black shorts and white T-shirt.
Rick: When I peruse the pages
of these sanitized journals
(so clean in this medical hell)
I never expect
to find anything that interests me.
Perhaps a cigarette ad
showcasing beauties
who do not smoke
scantily clad...smiling...deeply tan
and ready-made
for a masturbation session.
But today,
no beauties,
no books or records
reviewed that are at all interesting.
What to do?
Study one more page,
and if I see nothing
then the magazine
must sleep in its bed,
the waiting room's
coffee table of Egyptian lore,
carrying so much literature...
words jammed with meanings
which the slippery nature of language
always denies them.
Chemical formulas to
create a hit song
or a perfect poem.
Empty dreams
to muffle my screams
when I turn this last page
(guaranteed, or so I thought,
to be my final bore)
and then
I see him!
Positively the guardian of a doorway
to a channel of myself
which I never knew existed.
Sitting here,
my cock flaccid,
I suddenly find myself
getting hard
when I see this man.
My blond pubic hair ripples
as my cock stretches,
moves this way and that
straining to get out
and see this man.
His body chiseled,
his skin tanned so perfectly...
oh if only I could...
(STOP THAT! THROW THAT AWAY!)
Some inner force
reprimanding me
So I toss the magazine down on the table.
Quick are my hands
to cover my bulging shorts.
I ask this inner agent
what its name is.
Police: We are the Homo Police, son,
a force which your conscious mind
does not know exists. Despite
our title, we are really
more like the CIA of your brain
conducting unseen operations
to make sure any homoerotic thoughts
are crushed before they
can touch your waking brain.
Zeus and all the tales he has for you
are nowhere near as earth-shattering
as the gay moments your brain experiences.
Do not fear,
everyone has them.
However, to be honest you
have been having them
much more frequently.
You do not know this
because we have been
killing your desires
and your dreams
to protect you, but it seems
one desire escaped our capture
before we could execute it.
So now you have
discarded the picture
which stimulated the desire
long enough to make its
presence known.
Do not fear anything.
This is just a phase.
Right now
you have had so many women
that your Subconscious Mind
is asking you,
" What now?
What next?
This body has done
almost everything one can do
with a woman or two.
Soon those last few
possibilities will be explored...
and then what?
Try three women at once?
No, even this body knows its limits.
That would be too much to handle.
What are the alternatives?
Some are too horrid
to even contemplate.
Who knows what horrors
Rick could bring upon his flesh
as punishment if he were to
ever intimately touch
a child,
a corpse,
an animal,
or bodily waste!
But the same sex...
here is an option which,
deep within the labyrinth
of Rick's mind,
does not cause an outrage."
What this means is
part of your psyche
believes homosexual encounters
is the direction
in which your sexual evolution
should now progress.
But we know
this would
tear your sanity apart...
make you crazy.
We are the torches
lighting the path of repression
just like our pistols
illuminate the atmosphere
when we kill your
homosexual longings.
Fear not, brave Rick, as we order
this homoerotic urge
to step out
with its hands up!
Narrator: Indeed a struggle
just like this
was rattling Rick's poor head.
The urge came out
and spoke.
Urge: But I was only seeking
the path to the next level...
just wanted to help him.
Police: Raise your hands
or else we will add
more holes in your faggot ass!
Urge: All right, I will comply.
Please, no violence. Spare me.
You know it,
you feel it,
you can hear it
in my voice: the fact that
I will not cause any harm
or put up a fight.
Police: Yes, we know. You
faggots will bend over for anyone.
Narrator: That should have been
enough of a clue, but the
poor urge was rather dim-witted.
the fog of its handicap
did not part fast enough.
Seconds after the light
paled its skin, the Homo Police
came on full-force. Bullets
too numerous to count
tore the urge to pieces.
When the last shot finished ringing,
both the urge
and Rick's erection
had vanished.
As far as reality is concerned,
external circumstances
change so frequently.
Nurse: Rick Sandburn, the doctor
will see you now.
please follow me.
Narrator: This young lady is his guide.
Rick studies her figure. Her
attire holds her so lovingly.
To himself Rick says:
Rick: Wow, look at this woman's ass!
How my hands
would love to squeeze it
and run up the front
of the outfit
to hold her breasts.
Narrator: Of course these thoughts
are so amazingly heterosexual
that they nearly bring a tear
to the eyes of Homo Police everywhere,
even those who lie
slumbering and oblivious,
waiting and resting
unless their assistance is called.
Police: Good boy, Rick...now
you are starting to learn how it's done!
If only it were socially acceptable
to give her ass a good swat, then
we would definitely encourage it.
However, we suggest you
just take it easy now.
We have to recover
from this awful event in which
you nearly slipped up.
Narrator: Oh, but how little
do these police know that
soon more thoughts
will escape their traps,
no matter how carefully laid
or how numerous.
And Rick will have to wonder...
Scene Two
Rick: Am I a gay man? or no?
Oh no, I hope not...
despite all these miserable
fantasies that clutter my brain.
Please forgive me,
my panic is not
justified because the
phenomenon is simply
known as bi-curiosity.
Only a momentary distraction, I hope
yet I cannot avoid
the other event occurring
which is
my magazine searching.
And how vast this
media is! Look hard enough
and ample information
will fill the screen of my eyes
and the dreams of my longing mind.
So why,
why have I been
looking so hard for
homosexual magazines?
(Not the easiest to find in 1954, mind you.)
When I finally found a few,
why did I immediately search out
the contents page to see
if there was any erotica?
And why, I ask you, why
did I discard any magazines
that lacked hot burning love fiction?
Curiosity, my mind says.
But then why
did I let that one man
who had been standing beside me
take me to an alley
where he read me his favorite story
while masturbating?
The way he read the story
was enough to get me
to obtain orgasm
despite my fatigue...
despite the fact that
anyone could have walked by
and seen what was happening.
And I came much harder
than I ever had
with any woman.
Narrator: So this is how
recent events have left
our Rick, confused
and hurting
and hateful.
Rick: It is their fault,
those men
who lie
with men...
all their fault.
With their tricks and lies
they are tempting me
from the shadows
of my closet.
Cowards all,
just give me a chance. I
will make them pay!
My spirit is in tune
with opportunity.
Just let them approach me
and I will unleash
m fury upon them,
so vicious that they
will know enough to
hide their sick pleasures away
whenever I come around.
My friends told me
they were going to wait outside the
Cable Company downtown because it is
a gay bar. They were
going to wait
so they could take
some stumbling homo drunk
and wound him.
I say: why wait until he is drunk?
I plan to march in there
and start a brawl!
Narrator: As the story goes,
however, there are no flailing limbs
or bloody fists or missing teeth
or bottles breaking
when Rick enters that gay bar.
Instead we find
a bar stool,
so eager to support someone's weight,
is holding none other than Rick in check,
his face elevated at the right height
so that other men
can detect his beauty.
Blond hair, blue eyes...
a winning team here.
Many men approach Rick, but his
cold shoulder drives all away. They
detect the fire filling him inside. All
of them know the rage he is feeling.
A young man...
only recently has he discovered
he might be gay,
yet Rick is still uncertain
although he is practically
forcing himself to
be straight and
exclude all thoughts of men.
Rick: No brawls because first I
must study the enemy...
must know them...
must wear my friendly mask,
pretend to be one of them.
Homo Police know my mission,
and they give me all their support
as I seek to find the
perfect specimen
for my revolution.
Oh, these fags
are so easy to mimic!
No, I cannot do this because I
am not sure if I
can duplicate them so easily
because the task is not difficult
or maybe because
it is not hard to copy them
when you already are one of them.
Narrator: This torment keeps ripping
at Rick's brain. As these days pass,
you can almost feel
his struggle building inside him.
However, internal tensions
can be held
only for so long.
Somehow they must seek
an external release,
as we shall soon see.
Scene Three
Narrator: Once again, we
are at the gay bar with Rick.
He is taking a drink,
tilting his head back
so that his eyes
collaborate with another man's,
both sets of orbs
sharing the same plane of existence.
Little does Rick know, this
man has been watching
him all night, wishing
they could share a bed.
Rick gets up
to use the facilities.
While facing the urinal
and pissing away all his dreams,
he does not pay attention
when the creak of the door
disrupts the air,
clashing with the hum of the lights.
Why should he be cautious?
Just another drunk
who has to vomit.
But this turns out to be
a drunk quite unlike
any other he has met,
because suddenly Rick
feels warm, masculine lips
press into his neck.
Hands reach around,
intending to touch his penis.
Rick: Foul creature!
Faggot beast!
I'm going to rip
the life out of you!
Narrator: A spin to the left is
all Rick needs to send
his elbow crashing into the side
of this would-be lover's head.
He goes stumbling away,
but Rick does not let it end.
Fists and feet
are almost resurrecting
his teenage angst.
The gay man crumbles
while his body is
constantly pounded
by kicks and punches.
He knows this pain
all too well,
and the low self-esteem he owns
makes him believe
he deserves this treatment.
but we all know...
all of us who claim to be
human beings, anyway...
that just because he desires
different ecstasies
does not make him deserve
such a thrashing.
Homosexual: Please, cease!
My limbs
and my soul
are already weak!
I have made an error!
Please, let me be!
Rick: Err you did indeed!
Now feel this wrath!
Narrator: Needless to say,
our protagonist's fury
had raised quite a few
decibels, causing a
commotion which friends
of Rick's prey decide to investigate.
Unnoticed by the assailant,
these other gay men enter the bathroom
to find their friend
broken and crying, and at this
point they just as invisibly
slipped out of the restroom...
(RING RING RING)
Operator: Yes, how may I help you?
Friend: Violence! Fists connecting with
weary bones! Tell the police to make
their way to the Cable Company
as soon as they can!
Narrator: Once the destination is given,
it is not much longer
until sirens are wailing
outside the gay bar.
Rick emerges from the bathroom,
still oblivious to these occurrences,
and sits down to get
another drink when suddenly
he is pushed violently
up against the bar,
patted down,
pinned to the spot, and
inadvertently handcuffed
while he is told...
Officer: You have the right
to remain silent...
Narrator: And this whole speech continues,
winding...unwinding
forever and then
before it seems too real
to be true,
judgment day arrives.
Rick stands before
a jury of his peers
who wear alien faces
and bleed kaleidoscopic dreams.
There is no salvation to drink here.
Judge: By the pounding of this gavel I
will bring down upon you this
punishment, just as I bring this wooden head
down upon this counter!
FIVE YEARS, STATE PRISON!
Now leave my sight,
foul human...if you can
even be called such.
(BANG BANG BANG)
Rick: So, as easily as that
I am tossed into the zoo,
no women to hold me
or tell me everything
will be all right.
No one cares,
no one knows my name.
Scene Four
Narrator: Now we have
a gray-walled life to live...
Rick has been put in jail
because he let his anger
burn him too much.
We now join him
and his thoughts
as his sentence
slowly whittles away at itself.
Five years to sit
with killers and rapists.
Rick: I think of prison
as a mediocre place to dwell.
At first my fear was
bloody dreaming,
endless streams of men ready
to leave traces inside me.
But there was
a saving grace for me.
My first night here,
every inmate somehow
found out why I had joined them.
Evidently this news
made their ears sparkle.
They found inspiration in my actions.
On my second day I was
standing all alone in the shower
when I heard
numerous footsteps
clearly carrying foul intent.
I figured my rape was inevitable,
so I turned to face my assailants...to
look into their eyes,
memorize every bend and twist
in their faces so that I will know
on whom I should get revenge
when my days of power rise again.
They all stood there,
faces trapped behind
these granite walls for so long that they
have become stone.
No smile could break rock,
at least none that I have seen.
The one I took to be their leader
(a short, withered, yet iron-willed
man whose head glows like the sun)
points at me and roars.
Leader: Turn off the water,
we must speak with you!
Rick: What was I to do? I was trembling
so badly my hands could not work. When I
looked back to face them (after turning
off the water), they had all moved closer to me
like one being...one collective. the bond
which had developed between them
would not let them move as one.
Leader: We heard why you are here.
Rick: His voice like thunder,
his stare like lightning.
Leader: We heard you
broke the bones of a gay man
like some blasphemous bastard
would shatter a sacrificial altar,
and we came to ask:
Is this true?
Rick: Yes, this man tried kissing me
which is an action I would not
(and did not) request,
so I had to thrash the
lesson into him quite thoroughly.
Narrator: A brief pause comes, to serve
no other purpose than to give Rick
more time to be nervous. The inmates
look around at each other,
then back to Rick.
Rick: Suddenly there is
an eruption of rock
as the stone-skin of the leader
cracks to reveal a smile. All other
inmates follow suit. One of them
starts to laugh, and soon the air
is corrupted by this sound, which I
cannot decipher...does it contain
joy or malice? Is it maniacal?
My answer comes when their
leader steps forward, actually able to
separate from the collective, and
extends his hand for me to shake.
Leader: Congratulations, friend.
Rick: I tentatively shook his hand
and all the others cheered.
Many more handshakes followed,
as well as some hearty,
well-intentioned embraces.
Eventually the celebration ceased,
and the leader imparted some
knowledge upon me.
Leader: Now that you have won
our acceptance, you need not worry.
This jail is your playground.
You need not fear
some midnight rapists
or a knife in your side
while you sleep,
and you may sleep as long
and as heavily as you wish.
No one will disturb you now.
Rick: At long last
my fears were dissolved.
I could wander the gray halls freely,
and yet
I was not free
to leave them.
Despite the fact
that I had spent
so many evenings
with so many women,
there were no visitors
who could steal
a piece of the sun for me
and sneak it into the prison.
Certainly I am free of fear.
No reason to worry
about rape or death,
but I had to possess
all other fears:
what majesty would life contain
once I was out of there?
Will the clay pot which
holds the beauty of life
have been shattered,
and all that precious magic
slipped away?
Even when I walk the streets
free again, will the world
be my prison then?
I am not so sure.
The suspense
weighs me down,
makes me too numb
to speak my dread.
What a waste
my life has been.
Rotting inside me.
No more spirit left.
Going down like a rocket.
Bleed insanity,
bleed away
until I have nothing left.
I know the names
of so many people
and none of them are
here to comfort me. None of them
were there to say good bye
when the judge gave me my term.
All my life
has led
gradually
to nothing.
So what am I worth? Nothing.
What do I feel? Nothing.
What makes life worth living? Nothing.
It seems apparent
what I must do
when I get out.
Nothing, because that is
my only alternative.
ACT FOUR
Narrator: We left Rick last while he was
sitting in jail, discovering that
the current meaning of his life
was less than satisfactory.
Here comes the burden
which we must all face.
Imagine...
five years have gone,
and it is now 1959.
Once more we see
a familiar face
haunting the streets:
familiar because it is Rick,
and he is hunting sanctuary.
He was released to find
he had been evicted from his home.
Now, with hardly any money,
no job, and no place to live,
Rick is doomed to wander the
piss-stained downtown streets.
If he were a ghost
this might be the
neighborhood which he would be
condemned to haunt.
He is a lost soul.
Scene One
Narrator: We join Rick once more,
his sensor unfocused
and his spirits dead.
At every door where
he used to find friends
he now finds strangers
either because
they have moved
or because
they shut the door on him,
their memories of him
somehow deleted.
Rick: Here I am and have been
quite a long while
today, sitting here and
knowing this is not
what one calls
a grand transition:
from jail cell to street corner.
Oh how I hate these hours!
Because I know
the pain burning me
is a tear which I have
made in the souls of others.
I suffer now
for what I made them
suffer so long ago that
it seems like another lifetime.
Oh, why couldn't it have been
someone else's life?
Why did this have to be mine?
Perhaps the gods
have swapped memories
or physical bodies
between myself
and someone else.
Yes, a celestial joke
played on my unknowing brain.
Wait...what nonsense am I thinking?
As mind-numbingly awful
as it is, this is
my life and these
are my memories.
And there is still
that cringe of rage
when I see a man
and my blood boils in ecstasy.
I rise, I think
of jail, and
I force the pain
to disappear.
Women, where are you?
Please come
and be my proof
that I am not gay.
Or maybe show me
that I am bisexual!
Someone help me!
Narrator: His cry
echoes into the night.
No response;
he is alone.
Rick: Oh, what am I to do?
What to do?
Such a life
is not worth living!
Perhaps I shall
throw it all away!
Narrator: And so he stumbles
his way to doom,
eventually finding a bridge
which allows him access
to cold water, and he
plummets into it.
Were there no kind souls
to hear Rick's weight
break the skin of the water,
he might have died as he wished.
As our story goes,
he was rescued.
The vision of this savior
causes quite a strong
response from Rick,
as we shall now see.
Scene Two
Narrator: Hours later, he awakens
in a hospital so white that
it seems to be Heaven at first.
Then Rick realizes
this is still Earth,
his body still containing his soul.
Nurse: Hello, how are you?
Rick: Feeling cold...
worse than a graveyard.
Nurse: D not worry,
we have you in our grasp
and soon our hold on you
will restore the warmth.
Rick: Thank you. And who,
may I ask, was the one who
decided to save me?
And there in the dim light
by the window I can see
my savior taking shape to be...
a man.
Not breasts
and a vagina,
a pair of cock and balls.
This was my savior,
and remains so,
glowing in the light...
a prism refracting the
glory for my eyes to behold.
My life has been
cracked so often
by women.
Now I realize what a tragic
misdirection my life
has been following.
Men have always
been there for me,
never women.
Women have always
pushed me away,
made my life
a lonely and hollow one.
Men have
always come to my rescue.
And here
in a shining set of teeth
and humanity
we see
a literal example of a savior.
Of course I do realize
my hands have not
always had
a sweet flavor
for the ladies to enjoy.
That is why they left me
to send myself
into the body of a tree
where the harpies
could rip away
chunks of me
and eat my bark-flesh
while laughing.
Women of this nation...
no, of this world...I
beg of you to
forgive my confusion
because all along I have known my own truth
and hated it,
but now I am willing to accept it:
I AM GAY !
Once my limbs
and brain, so numb,
have healed
I will reenter
the world and
make amends.
No longer is my mind
crippled by blind hatred.
Narrator: The savior, whose name
is Arnold, approaches the bed
and holds Rick's hand.
Arnold is vibrant and
glowing with strength.
Rick's power is
only a flickering light now,
but he is returning.
Arnold: I am glad to see
my efforts to save you
have shown you back
through the veil which
separates life and death
so that you may
still share common ground
with the living.
Narrator: Rick returns the grip
with equal intensity
and knows what he must do.
Once he is free
to explore
the new world
in which he now lives,
Rick must return to that point
where it all began:
the gay bar
where his angry fists
gave birth to trouble.
Rick: All four chambers
of my heart
are pumped full of gratitude
Narrator: Soon his time will come.
There are amazing waves of joy
ready to shock his body
once Rick hit the scene
he once so loved to hate.
Now we shall flip forward
in our storybooks,
passing the days
which the healing process has to
devour to nurse Rick's body
back to health. Every day
the savior visits. They share
one another's company,
and then Arnold bares
himself to Rick: total truth
unobstructed and unapologetic.
He brings Rick some flowers
an so eloquently says:
Arnold: Rick, when I saved your life
it was not purely
a stranger's devotion
to another human being,
although that certainly was part of it.
But to bare it all, I must
let you know I am gay.
My eyes have studied you,
followed your every move.
If you ever felt
the weight of a shadow
staring at your back,
it was me.
As for why I share this now,
it is because I ask of you
one great request:
just one evening of love,
of you and I
sharing a bed.
Narrator: On this day
of glorious revelation
Rick has been released
from his sanitized prison.
Now he is free
to do as he pleases,
and he already has an idea
how to occupy his time.
Rick: Yes, Arnold, I shall
go to your home
and show you
just how much joy
churns within my heart.
Oh, such joy
because you saved me.
My life was so pointless
until now...so wasted
and directionless, and I was
stumbling and blind...
but you
touched your thumbs
against your eyes
and gave them sight.
Narrator: With that said,
his lips briefly
find Arnold's and a spark
of desire forces Rick
to pull away from Arnold.
Both men are
uncomfortable in their clothing
so they head out.
Destination unknown?
Perhaps for others
but for lovers
like these two, the final point
on the trip is right here:
Arnold's hotel room.
Rick: Love me he does,
and love me he will
once we enter that room
and seal out the world.
Scene Three
Narrator: And here it is...
the driveway,
the parking. The whole
world smells
of spiritual rebirth.
Rick and Arnold head upstairs,
holding hands and ready for love.
Rick: Nervous...so scared
with a twitch to occupy my time
and accompany my feelings.
This was to be
my first man.
The moment his door closed,
Arnold turned to me.
His mouth located mine.
And oh the lips of another man
caused constellations to
scatter through my body.
Heaven and Earth
combined inside me
as our tongues explored new life.
He wanted me
to remove my shirt,
so I did and his
mouth went to my nipples.
Soon we were on the bed.
My cock was already erect
by the time he unraveled it.
Then suddenly I felt
his tongue politely licking the
head of my cock.
Seconds later,
he took my whole length
into his mouth.
Overwhelming joy
assaulted my brain.
At long last I knew
the joys of feeling
another man
worshipping my cock
with his mouth.
It did not take long for me
to release into his throat.
Arnold: Please pleasure me in kind,
my dear. I have wanted to
feel your hands and mouth upon me.
Rick: With that he stood up while I sat
on the edge of the bed
facing him.
I got his pants down
to reveal
a beautiful cock,
erect, excited...
happy to be free.
This was the first time
another man's cock had been
so close to me.
I blushed at the sight of him.
Arnold: You possess the beauty
that could melt
many a man to come.
Rick: Under the weight of these words
I took him into my hand,
handling his cock as I would my own.
It was clearly enough to please him.
After a while, though, I
realized it would take more
to bring him to climax.
It would take
what I feared the most:
his cock in my mouth.
No desire ever existed
in my life for me to
taste another man's semen.
Yet he assured me
to have no fear.
Arnold: I will pull out of your mouth
and deposit my seed on the floor.
Rick: Then I remembered all those
times when I had
been a bastard...when I had
forced women to swallow...
so I told Arnold to
cancel the request,
told him to
hold my head in place
once he started to come.
I wanted to have his
sweet, sticky seed
in my mouth because
sooner or later I would be
destined to taste it anyway.
And with that
I took him
into my mouth,
felt the stiff rod
pass between my lips.
At first I was unsure
how to handle him,
and my lack of coordination
accidentally raked my teeth
across his tender cock.
He gasped in pain,
and I apologized sincerely
while nursing his injured pole
with my hand.
My lips and tongue
also serviced him
back to health.
Soon his moans
of pleasure were
returning, and he
spoke to me.
I have never heard
such words of passion
burn through the language
of this mighty nation.
Then, in a moment
of pleasure extending
beyond the amount which
his flesh was able to hold,
I felt his cock
jump in my hand and mouth
as the semen erupted.
His balls released into my throat,
the nectar which so few
dare to taste, and I
hungrily slurped it down,
feeling sensations which
only the most perfect dreams contain.
Arnold: Lips and tongue
of an angel, my dear Rick.
So lovely for me to behold
yet I could never dream
to hold you all my own.
Narrator: His lips gently kissed
Rick's cheek. Arnold explained
with words to dazzle the ear
that Rick had quite an interesting
new world to explore:
the dwelling place
which he now shared
with all gay men.
Arnold: I do not wish
to hold back
a beauty like me.
In your soul
you are an eagle
so fly away...
see all you can...
but please, I ask of you
at least keep me
safely tucked away
in your dreams.
Rick: Another kiss on my cheek,
one more lover to my name, and
he was gone from me forever.
Left no number or address.
Once again I was alone to
feel the world draining
me away. Closing my eyes
did not keep this trend
from going out of style...
but within a blink of twilight
a door in my memory creaked open.
Suddenly I had the drug
to remedy this situation.
Narrator: Shower and shave,
teeth thoroughly brushed,
Rick is ready
only one hour later
to conquer the doorway
and his loneliness.
No more!, he realizes.
He is alone, not lonely...
relationships never
fit the gap in his life.
They were too large.
A quick burst of passion
and semen is all he needed.
No need to carry
an anchor like love. His limbs
are not yet strong enough for that.
Without further ado
galaxies are crossed
and conquered.
Beneath his feet
they become dust
and sarcasm to which
no one owes any debt.
Soon a man
(whose muscles are like
gargantuan steel constructions)
is checking Rick's age
and giving him permission
to cross a threshold
once so full of antagonism,
now crushing him
in a warm embrace
of love. Palace of dread
is now home of
potential pleasure.
A place from which
he once studied the enemy
is now a throne
which gives Rick time to observe
a crowd of gorgeous men.
Not only does he study, but he
is also studied, as before,
only this time
he is more receptive
to the pick-up lines
and offers of alcohol.
He settles his joy
upon one man
in particular, glowing like a halo,
a man whose name is Jerry...
5'10", 175 pounds, with
short wavy black hair,
deep brown eyes
that carve out
mysterious patterns
in Rick's brain,
forever cursed to be cryptic.
Not too muscular
yet not a blob of sloth,
Jerry had unknowingly netted Rick.
This discuss the usual
bar introduction banter
of one thousand millenniums.
then, without warning, our
protagonist lets insecure Jerry
realize how much luck he possesses
by saying the following:
Rick: Listen, I have an itch
which can vanish
only if we leave this place.
Jerry: Ah, it is this irritation
on the inside which is
so hard to relieve, yet
you claim to have
already found a way
to resolve this ache.
What might
leaving this place do
to erase your torment?
Rick: Lean close so that I may
deposit the answer in your ear.
Narrator: Jerry leans forward
and Rick tells him
this most wonderful
of all answers:
Rick: If we leave to
embrace ourselves in the comfort
of your home or mine,
only then may I have
your taste
in my mouth,
my heart,
my soul.
Narrator: Under the stars
Jerry's mind moves
into suggestion mode.
Jerry: My place is free
of all hassles: I live alone
and not too far away.
Rick: Then I think we should
drink this last drink
to pleasure that awaits us.
Narrator: The alcohol flows
down dark caverns to fill a need.
Loosen up, Rick, to share yourself
more freely with this stranger.
Soon they are naked and alone,
these two men who
know what mannerisms
please other men.
Cocks, hands, and tongues all seek
out electric sparks of joy.
They are found in abundance.
One trick after the next
executed in sequence
promotes Rick to orgasm.
His cock is in Jerry's mouth,
while Jerry fills our
protagonist's jaws
at the same time...
both men
lose their seed
to one another.
Sleep arrives
after a shower.
Jerry drifts away
on a sea of peace
while Rick slips out the door.
And so ends
this second adventure
into Rick's new world
of homosexuality.
He comes away
feeling more satisfaction
than he ever felt
while lying with any woman.
Scene Four
Narrator: We come to a point
where narration
can be broad and brief
because more important goals
lie ahead. As nights pass
the number grows...the number
of men who share Rick's ecstasy.
Carefully, though...the list
does not extend
too long or increase
too quickly.
His pleasures are only
masturbation and oral love.
(Though we must note
Rick often wonders
what it is like to
give or receive anal joy,
yet he does not attempt either
out of fear that he will
give or receive pain.)
Happiness is his to hold
as he experiences these
brief but thoroughly satisfying
nights spent dwelling
in the world of men.
These are his first few
close encounters with the gay kind,
who have always been his kind
yet until now were completely
alien to young Rick.
Once they spawned a rage in him
so deep and strong
that no cage could ever
control the beast.
Now, with three words
forming on his lips...
" I am gay"...the monster
has been destroyed, sentenced
to an eternity
in a vacuum.
Where there is
no breath to be drawn,
there is only
death to be found.
Weeks pass
and only fragments of Rick's life
are of any concern to us.
Lacking a roof
to cherish his name,
Rick seeks employment.
Despite his young rage
appearing in legal records,
our protagonist
finds himself recruited
as an employee
at some electronics company,
designing future toys
and other various games.
The wage he earns
deposits into his pocket
more money than
all the jobs he ever had.
Life once again
possesses its retina-burning
shine. Rick looks past the glare
to see a future he can embrace
and adore like a lover...yet,
for a while, he has no lovers.
Suddenly, Rick feels an urge emerge
from his heart, not his loins.
Where once there was no need
to fall asleep in someone's arms,
Rick now starts to notice
how empty his bed truly is.
His heart now hopes to
not beat alone any longer,
and soon Rick is hoping
that a fellow employee
can fill this gap,
a gorgeous man named
Marc Sommers.
ACT FIVE
Narrator: So now we move in
our magnifying lens
closer to see
Rick as he tries to uncover
the truth, meaning whether or not
Marc is also gay.
One syllable could shatter the dream;
the word " no" haunts Rick at night...
even when he is awake it sends
shivers trembling through his bones.
For the record, Marc is
a gorgeous construction
of bone and tissue,
his tendons and ligaments
draped over his limbs
in perfect harmony.
Six feet tall, 170 pounds,
beautiful tan, shoulder-length
bronze hair, incredible brown eyes
that make women and gay men
alike hope he prefers their company.
Marc's money has given him the
wonderful opportunity to own
his own universal weight set,
and it is far from collecting
dust, as anyone could see by
studying his impressive physique.
Within his smile there is hidden
a charm that could topple kingdoms
and dissolve mountains.
But all we must hear
about him begins, as it
always does,
on Monday morning.
Scene One
Narrator: Rick's office...clearly
a man's office because his desk
is a cluttered mess...he is
having a trial by fire
or at least it feels that way in his
gut. Somehow three of his
projects have all gone
five thousand dollars over budget,
totaling up to $ 15,000. If he does not
find an error in his calculations,
then he owes that money to
the company. Needless to say, this
is money Rick does not have.
He has dared
to raise his hand,
gained the nerve to admit
when he needs help.
Someone suggested he seek out
help from Marc, and so
in a voice shaking like California
Rick requested the help from his
object of desire...and Marc agreed.
Soon he was going to enter Rick's office.
And just as Rick realized this, the door
to his office squeals to announce the joy
of this beautiful man joining
our protagonist's company.
When Rick sees him, all his
worries fade away like the
memories of nightmares.
Marc: I am here to repair
the fracture in your
conscience that gives you
so much worry and fear.
Rick: And I thank you
so sincerely for your aid.
Narrator: Marc leans over Rick's shoulder
so he may view all the data
while Rick explains it to him.
His scent, his looks...the mere
fact of the man being so close
disturbs Rick's ability to concentrate.
Rick senses that Marc can
detect this uneasiness.
Soon Marc is at work,
helping to save Rick from prison.
Within fifteen minutes
the disappearing money is
once again found,
and Rick sighs in relief.
Rick: I have no idea
what I could do
to repay you.
Narrator: And fire mixed
with glory burns strong
in Rick's mind when Marc
responds with this statement:
Marc: A date...one evening, one dinner...
with you would be
a fine payment indeed.
Rick: I...I have to inquire
if your request
means what I think.
Marc: Come closer, and I will
tell you what my request means.
Narrator: Whispering so gently
into Rick's ear, Marc
lets out the fact that Rick
has so desperately wanted
to be true: yes, Marc is gay.
That night becomes the first
gay date Rick has ever had.
It ends with a perfect
good night kiss, and that is all.
Weeks pass. It is clear that this
first date's destiny is to
become the first of many.
Destiny is fulfilled.
Out of all the men
who have shared
Rick's company,
Marc has earned the
honorable title of being
Rick's true first boyfriend...
yet they do not share
any physical love.
Marc: I am frightened to
share myself with you, Rick,
because in the past
each time physical love
was initiated, it wound up
becoming the only
focal point of the relationship.
A hollow shell to dwell in, dear.
So I fear that it might
happen again, and I do not
want to lose what we have.
Narrator: These are the very
words that Marc speaks to our
protagonist one evening when Rick
is trying more valiantly than usual
to make his way into Marc's pants.
For weeks Rick is refused. He has to
return home, always alone.
Sometimes he finds himself
reliving his teenage masturbation afternoons,
only this time they take place at night,
when the dark holds him close
and Marc's apartment refuses his touch.
Poor Rick, unable to enjoy his man
yet also unable to enjoy any other
because love has hatched...love for Marc.
One night Marc finally allows Rick
to sleep at his apartment,
something which he had not
previously let occur because
there was the danger that
sexual desires could overpower Marc's will.
Rick is asked, however, to sleep on the couch.
He is not happy with this arrangement,
but at least he is one step closer
to reaching Marc's bed.
Over the course of the night, Rick
cannot help masturbating.
He makes sure that his semen
leaves no marks when it erupts.
But his sense of hopelessness,
as it has been said, is being diminished.
A week after sleeping over is approved,
Marc moves on to allowing Rick
to sleep in the same bed, and
now Rick knows luck is all he needs.
The first night, nothing happens in
bed, but that is predictable.
Our protagonist still manages
to fall asleep smiling
because he knows his good old
trickster ways will be enough to
finally win the prize he has
desired for so long: the
naked company of Marc.
Fast approaching is a day
which has granted Rick
majestic release from the
prison that is work, although
Marc still has to go slave away.
Rick plans to use this
as the day to break all barriers.
He makes the game plan,
and every night he carefully
reviews the plan. Soon it achieves
an almost holy state of perfection.
All Rick has to do is wait,
and he can do that with ease.
Scene Two
Narrator: An evening comes when Rick,
crammed with anticipation, is lying
on Marc's couch, ever so
patiently awaiting his beloved's return.
He is wearing a white T-shirt
and black sweatpants...not much
but enough to conceal his motives.
The front door is now swinging open to
give Marc a chance to escape
all the daily hassles
burdening his body.
His jacket and tie are removed,
as well as his shoes.
Marc...gorgeous collection
of human anatomy...is unbuttoning
his shirt to reveal a white T-shirt
similar to Rick's.
His lips make a temporary home
on Rick's mouth. After his shirt
is completely off, Marc heads
to the bathroom, located
in the hallway just
opposite the bedroom. He tosses the
shirt and then, as an afterthought,
his socks into the hamper.
Marc's last task is to undo
his belt, which he leaves in his bedroom.
Finally he joins Rick on the couch.
They kiss and cuddle.
Rick: Long has been this empty day.
Your presence, so sorely missed,
bruised my mind. Now you are home,
and the wounds are healing.
Marc: All day long I could not help
but constantly remember
your eyes, your lips, holding your hand.
Rick, it is true...more true than
any established fact ever was...
I love you.
Rick: Oh, Marc, when I feel these
words slip through my ears there is the
definite urge to respond in kind,
and so I shall, by saying
it is I who love you in return.
Narrator: Cuddling in silence, the two
men enjoy the love that
fills the atmosphere.
After a few minutes, Rick
decides to set
his plan into action
and raises his head.
He kisses Marc and stands up.
Rick: I hate to leave, but
a quick bathroom visit
is now required.
Marc: Hurry back to me, because you
know how much I want you back in my arms.
Narrator: With one more kiss, Rick vanishes.
For a while, Marc sits there in solitude,
allowing the worries of the day
to fade from his mind. After a while,
he notices Rick has not yet returned.
Marc: Oh dearest, I am wondering
if you are having any trouble.
Why have you not yet come back
to the warm embrace of my heart
and arms? Are you all right?
Narrator: Despite his loud, clear voice
Marc's inquiry goes unanswered.
His feet and soul both bare
to the elements and worry, he
gets up to investigate...only to find
Rick is not using the toilet
or bathtub...or even the sink.
Standing in the bathroom door, the
light still on, Marc does a
360 degree turn so that
his eyes now gaze into the bedroom.
And it is in there that he catches a glimpse
of a figure on the bed. Who else
could it be other than Rick?
A voice confirms the shape's identity.
Rick: Love. come into the room.
And please, on your way, could you
just extinguish that light?
Narrator: Marc does as requested.
By the dim light of the radio clock
Marc can make out Rick's outline. He can
tell Rick is lying on his left side,
totally nude...wearing only a smile
as the saying goes. When Marc approaches
the bed, Rick sits up. Now he is facing
his love. Although Marc wants to resist,
the fact of Rick's naked body is
making the blood flow into his penis,
causing it to rise.
Marc: Rick, dearest, tell me just what
you think you are doing? You know how I
feel about this. I am frightened to let
myself enjoy these pleasures.
Rick: You should really face that fear
and defeat it. my beloved.
Narrator: Rick puts his hand out
and rubs the bulge that is steadily
growing in Marc's pants.
Rick: Besides, it seems to me that
certain parts of you are not afraid.
Where your body goes, why not
let your mind follow?
Narrator: A long, intense gaze
into Rick's eyes tells Marc
how he should handle this situation.
Marc: You know something, dearest?
You are correct...absolutely correct.
Narrator: With this declaration it is
obvious Marc finally sees things the
way Rick hoped he would, and this brings
a smile to Rick's lips...
the very same lips which Marc kisses
as he joins Rick on the bed. While
both men go to the task of removing
Marc's pants, they share a dozen such kisses
but in this case, quantity does not in any way
diminish the quality. Now only Marc's
T-shirt and boxers remain. Although
the shirt is quickly peeled away, Rick finds
himself pushed on to his back before he
can even touch the boxers. Now his cock
is being thoroughly explored by Marc's tongue,
flicking across the head, running up and down
the sides, pleasuring the balls. Rick squirms
under the weight of the pleasure he feels.
Suddenly Marc stops, and he rises up on
the bed, now kneeling between Rick's legs.
Marc: I want to observe the pleasure
which you give to yourself.
Narrator: With that request Rick's hand
goes to work, and he is a master...moving
slowly, long strokes up and down his cock.
Marc: Now could your mouth pleasure me?
Rick: First my eyes want to see the
object my mouth will accompany.
Narrator: Marc stands before his lover while
Rick sits on the edge of the bed, still
lightly caressing his own erection.
Then with great ease Marc drops his boxers
to reveal a fully risen, incredible penis...not
incredible in size but in beauty. Rick gasps
and blushes at the sight of it.
Rick: Oh, my eyes enjoy this sight
and my mouth is most eager
to pleasure this cock.
Marc: Well then, by all means
do as you please.
Narrator: Rick absorbs Marc's lovely cock
into his mouth, orally loving it
in a way he has never previously loved...
but unfortunately the pleasure of Rick's
attention is too much for Marc to take.
Seconds later he is squirting
his seed into Rick's mouth.
Rick looks up at his lover and
sees sadness haunting Marc's eyes.
Marc: Oh, dearest, I apologize so
greatly for this quick end to our love.
Rick: Please, lover, feel no shame. We
have all the time we need
to make up for it.
Marc: At least give me the chance
to help you achieve the same height
of pleasure. Let my tongue love you.
Rick: No, dearest, that is all right.
We should get some rest. Worry not
about my pleasure...not right now.
Marc: I do sincerely love you, Rick.
Rick: As well as I love you, Marc.
Narrator: They kiss. After a quick run
to the bathroom Marc comes back to bed.
Both men fall asleep completely nude
and in love with one another.
But when Rick next opens his eyes,
it is not to see the morning as he once
knew it. Instead, he awakens to quite
a surprise. My words are weak in
explaining this. We now give the
narrative reins over to Rick, because
it is his story to share.
Rick: Long and hard have been
the hours I waited to see this
man of mine naked, and apparently
they were a strain for him as well
because he exploded so soon
after my mouth touched him.
But my love is strong enough to
overlook these not-so-perfect
first moments of intimacy. In my
heart I knew this lover of mine
would eventually make up for his
excess excitement. All we needed
now was rest, a chance to
rejuvenate and bathe
in the warm grip of sleep.
And we did, letting sleep's
silken fingers curl around us.
Let me tell you, such wonderful
rest was never known to me.
I had dreams, visions of myself
and the man beside me,
our love held eternal
inside diamonds. The tide tried
but could not erode our memories
or our lives. Love's strength
conquered the ocean...
conquered even death itself.
" Oh, Marc," I whispered to my beloved,
" you are the face which I long to see
when my eyes flicker open from sleep."
And indeed I would see him,
although not how I expected.
Let me explain the morning.
It was a beautiful, peaceful
sleep as I have said. When I awoke
the time was made unknown to me
because the shades were still drawn
and the clock was on the other side
of the bed. Had I not sensed
Marc's presence behind me, I
would have turned to look.
Yet when I realized he was there, I
also knew life was imitating art...
and anyone who has ever read
Clive Barker's Imajica will know
exactly where my story is going.
I was asleep, and had woken up,
on my right side. Marc was nestled
up against me, his mouth tenderly
and gently pressing kisses into my
neck and shoulder. His right arm
had somehow slipped beneath
the weight of my body and
wrapped around my waist
without rousing me.
It also came to my attention
that Marc's left hand was down low,
slipped between my legs by its owner
and lovingly caressing my inner thigh.
Soon the pleasing touch came to a stop,
and my leg was being slightly readjusted...
pushed forward then gently...almost
cautiously...lifted, so as not to wake me.
At first Marc's reasons for doing all
this were a mystery to me.
Then, suddenly, I felt his
hips shift...moving forward,
and I realized so quickly
what was happening.
While I lay there,
so innocently sleeping,
Marc
had taken
the virgin passage.
He shifted my leg to ease
his initial penetrating stroke.
I had always shied away from this,
fearing the pain, but there was none.
In fact, it was like no other
sensation I had ever felt.
His lips still explored my neck,
unaware that I was awake
as he continued to push his
manhood forward, sinking into
my hindquarters ever so slowly,
so gently. There was no concern
on his part about where his pole
was going, no shame in that he
was putting his cock in another
man's bottom...just the fact that
I was the person he loved, and
he wanted to make love to me
in the most intimate way he knew how.
I could feel his excitement
throbbing through the flesh which
so eagerly (yet cautiously)
entered me. There I lay, held
captive in a warm embrace,
all while the man I loved
gently inserted his erect penis
into my yielding anus. He was
still unaware of my open eyes
until I sighed to let him know.
His progress nearly came to a halt,
but I pressed back, inviting him
in all the way. If he were ever curious
about how far he could take this,
I satisfied that wonder by thrusting
backward and taking him in up to
the hilt. I felt a strange warmth
on the cleft between my buttocks
and realized the heat was flowing
from his sac, which was now resting
against my backside. I found the
thought of this extremely arousing...
to have him so close to me that
he was inside of me, a part of me.
We lay there together like that for
a while. my hands went up and down
his strong arms, exploring him and
my own body as well...even reaching
back and down to the place where
we were connected. Every part
of me felt so complete...so alive.
My anal muscles relaxed
and the rest of me followed,
and I felt as thought I was
falling into a beautiful circular
explosion of light...and the center
of this circle was the very same
opening through which Marc
had entered me.
At the touch of his cock inside
me, hitting my prostate, my
own member grew hard.
Marc: Lover, might we be able to
change our position? It would be
much easier for me to make love
to you if I were behind you.
Rick: With this request I
gracefully went on to my
hands and knees. Marc was
momentarily unable to keep
up with me, and his cock
slipped from the grasp of my rear.
Already my anus missed its
newest visitor...which had been
an intruder at first, but had
ever so quickly become a
lovely and well-received
(and cherished) guest.
Please, come back...oh,
do make yourself at home!
Marc: I slipped out by accident
but when my eyes caught sight
of that lovely, tan, well-rounded
bottom turned up in the air and
waiting for me to re-enter it,
I aimed my throbbing cock
and pushed it back inside
Rick's tight ass...sliding the entire
blood-gorged shaft into his hole
all the way to the hilt with
no remorse in sight.
Having done that, I
started to make love to him.
Rick: One hard, manly thrust
put his cock right back where
he and I both wanted it.
The sharp spear of pain
brought on by his re-entry
quickly vanished as Marc
grabbed hold of my hips and
let me know what it was like
to have a real man inside me...
his hands holding my ass steady
as he continued this violation.
His cock pistoned in and out of
my welcoming asshole while my world
gradually disappeared under that
familiar haze of light.
My anus was completely enjoying the
visit this penis was giving it,
and I was aroused beyond
any of my wildest imaginings.
Who would have thought
it would come to this?
Here I was---formerly one of
the most notorious, close-minded,
ignorant gaybashers ever-
engaging in the most pleasurable
act of sodomy performed by
two homosexuals, and on the
receiving end no less!
Well, some things certainly do change,
and this was one of them...
the pride I felt surging through me
as I raised my buttocks into the air
for this man to pleasure with his cock...
to feel his mighty rod plowing into my rectum.
His hand sought out my cock
but I put mine there first,
encouraging him to give his
undivided attention to fucking my ass.
His cock showed my hole no mercy,
and although Marc was roughly
thrusting himself in and out of a
very tight hole, I was feeling
nothing short of wonderful...receiving
only the most glorious pleasure
as his amazing hardon kept
poking me in the rear!,
slamming up my poop chute!,
oh how terrific to feel him
laying the pipe!, and making me
take it in the pooper like a trooper!,
embedding itself
again and again
in my tender asshole.
And I couldn't help
smiling at these
silly thoughts...but I
was thinking silly because
I was happy...happier
than I had ever been...
happy to be here
in this bed on my
hands and knees while this
beautiful man made love to me.
God, how right it felt to
have my asshole loosened up
so another man could
sodomize me. And how wonderful
(and lucky) that it was this man!
I screamed out to him, a simple
cry of " yes, yes!" as he
fucked away at my accepting ass.
" Oh, show me you love me," I said
while looking back at him, " show me
how much you want me. Give my
asshole the fucking it deserves."
My talk spurred him on
to drill my ass even harder.
I wanted him so badly,
and I had him!
His relentlessly ramming cock
was making my asshole tingle.
As it plunged in and out, I suddenly
remembered it would all end
when Marc released his semen.
And that was what really
turned me on: that not only
was there a beautiful cock fucking me
in the ass, but there was also a man
attached to that cock who was
intent on fucking me until he came.
My hand moved faster and faster
the more I thought about that
load emptying into me. Marc's monster
of a cock kept thoroughly exploring my
ass...the same ass to which he
had gained such easy access, my
sphincter having offered no resistance,
not signaling me to wake up but instead
allowing the knobby head to enter, followed
by the strong, throbbing shaft. All while
he fucked me, I kept shouting " yes!"
The pleasure became too much
for me to handle, and I found myself
squirting hot cum on the bed sheets
below me...and what a sensual onslaught
I felt...to feel him banging my prostate
as the fluids left me...the beautiful
explosion of pleasure I cannot even
begin to explain...except to say that
it felt as if the gates to the Garden of Eden
had been reopened for me...and only me.
The feeling was extraordinary,
denying comparison to any other
pleasure I had ever felt.
My ejaculation came to its
amazing end. Now all that remained
to occur was Marc's orgasm.
I looked back at him
to examine this man, the one I loved,
as he made love to me.
I enjoyed the view...his eyes closed,
mouth slightly agape, breath heavy, sweat
pouring down his chiseled torso,
his hands firmly clamped on my hips
to hold me steady, his groin moving back
and then forth until he was
pressed flush up against my buttocks,
his balls slapping my ass. Marc opened
his eyes to see me, and I smiled
at him as he slid his cock so
passionately in and out of my rectum.
Marc: Oh my dear God, this
is so wonderful, so glorious, so
beyond words. The sunrise is nowhere
near as beautiful as the grip
your anus has on my cock.
Rick: " That is because you are
in the process of taking my virginity,"
I told him...and it must have been the
expression on my face, as well as
this statement, which triggered him off
because, as swollen as his cock
already was, I felt it expand even more...
stretched to the breaking point. Marc's
testicles had been holding back, but the
dam broke. He was now blasting
geysers of thick hot semen into my
warm, receptive ass and with each
squirt I told him, " Thank you."
Upon hearing this Marc smiled.
It was a pleasant surprise for him,
making the last few bursts of his
orgasm even more pleasurable. It made
him proud to know he was my first.
After the last squirt Marc moved to pull
out, but I reached a hand back to
grab hold of his spent cock
and urge him to stay.
He was more than happy
to give me what I craved.
He stayed in there a while, long enough
for me to feel the semen slipping out
around his cock. I was pleased even
when I felt him soften inside me and
eventually slip out, my backside so
very reluctant to let the visitor go.
Marc fell on the bed beside me
while I laid on my stomach. He
caressed my buttocks,
home of such intense
pleasure that I wanted him to
pay another visit
as soon as he could.
Marc: My dear, I wonder
if you are sore at all?
Let me check.
Rick: He pressed a finger against
my opening, and there was indeed a
slight bit of soreness. An hour or so
later, even that was gone. And this,
ladies and gentlemen, was my first
experience with anal intercourse.
Scene Three
Rick: And so it came to me
after great yearning,
this sweet and eternal love
which I shared with Marc.
Our love was beautiful
every night that he entered me
when we tumbled into bed,
exhausted from work but not
so disheveled that we could not
open up to one another...
although I opened more for him.
My commitment to him knew no bounds,
as I will illustrate in these two love scenes
which will now be slipped into your
brain by my prose. I hope
you will appreciate my sharing
and not find it to be
beyond the limits of good taste.
There was one night, I remember,
when Marc was having so many
troubles at work that he was
frequently suffering from two
afflictions: chronic headaches
and insomnia. At least, these were
two physical ailments. There was
one mental problem, and it was
the culmination of all the stress
which life had set upon his back.
Marc was starting to doubt every
choice he had ever made in his
life, including the conclusion he
had reached at age 25 about his
sexuality. My lover was no longer
sure if he were gay or not...
and this brought our love life
to a brief and indefinite end.
He would not even join me
in the same bed during this period...
until, one night, I brought him out of it,
as you shall now see.
It was late one summer night.
I awoke overheated and sweaty.
I stripped down to my underpants.
Hunger started gnawing away
at my gut, so I grabbed a bathrobe
and headed out to the kitchen
where, to my surprise, I found
Marc already seated and
eating a midnight snack. We made
eye contact, but his usual smile
was absent. I started to make
myself a sandwich at the table.
We did not talk...we hardly
even looked at one another.
" Marc," I said," we've got
to talk...this just isn't right,
what you're doing to me."
Marc: Enough with the melodrama!
Stop acting like a drama queen.
Rick: His words split me open
like a sore not yet healed as he
got up and headed for the doorway,
intending to go back to nbed.
I pursued him, catching him
in the archway and spinning him
around. The fire in my eyes did
not phase him, but I did not caree.
" Marc, how can you let this be?
Don't you remember the love we
have been sharing for all this
time? Are you going to throw it
all away just because life has
given you some trouble? Why let
these worries keep us apart?"
There we stood facing one another...
me wearing a bathrobe and white
briefs, while Marc had on a pair of
pin-striped pajama bottoms and as far
as I could tell that was all he had on.
In the past he had been pulling away
whenever I tried to touch him, so I
knew it was better to keep my distance,
but I could not help myself. Before I
even knew what I was doing, I leaned
forward and planted a kiss on his lips
as I had so many times before, but this
time it caused a great rage to come
rolling out of his body.
Suddenly Marc struck me
across the face and I
went reeling backwards
into the dining room. I stumbled,
fell to the ground...confused
not only by his blow but also
by the fact that I had
actually kissed him even though
I knew such touch was not welcome.
I tried getting up, but his
hands guided me, not my own...
they clamped on to my waist
and dragged me to my feet.
Then Marc pushed me into the dining
room table. The top half of my body
pitched forward and I was
bent over...helpless.
Marc: So, you still insist on me
being a faggot, do you? Well,
let's see how you like this.
Rick: And here is where the road
to recovery began. Marc forced me to
bend over the table. Suddenly I felt my
bathrobe lifted up and my briefs
yanked down to my knees. My ass
was exposed to him. Peripheral vision
let me see the pajamas drop to reveal
his tan skin...a purple-headed cock full
of lust ready to plunge into me. Marc
paused to wet his finger and push it
into my anus. I could have escaped
but desperately did not want to.
Marc: Now this is a nice ass. You
are going to enjoy this, faggot. I'm
gonna abuse your tight asshole.
Rick: With that his finger
was withdrawn, and I waited.
I heard him spit
into his hand. He was rubbing
the saliva all over his cockhead.
My robe was thrown up
like a dress, my ass bared
to him and waiting for pleasure.
Then, without anymore fuss, he pushed
the tip of his cock into my ass.
Despite his threats during these
moments of penetration, Marc
was quite sensitive to the
tightness of my ass. He was quite the
gentleman as he carefully
negotiated his way into my rectum.
Soon he was completely embedded,
and that was when this stud
grabbed me by my hips
and started to fuck me
like the little bitch I had become.
His pulsating flesh passed in and out
of my tight ass while in front of me
my cock had sprung to life. Once
again I was alive in the glory of
being Marc's bottom man.
Marc: Take this, you faggot...take
all this hard flesh up your ass.
Rick: And I did...oh yes, did I
ever love this man taking me
like an animal. He had smacked me,
ripped down my underwear, and
rudely thrust the entire lenght of
his manhood up my ass. The brutal
swiftness of it all turned me on,
and he knew it.
So I had to tell him,
had to let him know...
" Come on, you stud...fuck my
asshole. You think you're
humiliating me by shoving
that dick up my ass? That is right
where I've been wanting it for
these last few weeks. So come on,
fuck me...fuck me like the stud
you are...that's it!"
And he did a glorious job
of fucking my asshole...plowing
right away through my massive
ejaculation I had that sent
my semen spraying on to
the floor...his rod still
ramming away at me
until finally with a massive
grunt he released into me,
and I felt his warm breath
on my neck as he
leaned over me to kiss my ear.
Marc: I missed this.
Rick: " Me too," I whispered.
Weeks went by, our lovemaking
frequent again...then not, but this
time it was just fate and timing
that kept us apart...busy schedules.
Before we knew it our six month
anniversary was upon us, and we
spent a night on the town...first to
see a romantic movie and then to
drink our fill. By the time we left
the bar, Marc was fine but I had
slightly exceeded my limit...enough
to reach the point where the world
was spinning. When we got back
home I wanted to pass out right
away, but Marc would not let me.
Instead he sat me on the couch
while he lit a candle or two then
put on some romantic music. A
moment after the notes filled the
air, he was by my side again. I
used his body as my pillow, my
life support, my anti-nausea drug.
I felt his lips on mine, his hand
exploring my crotch, and I knew
what he wanted...but I felt I was
unable to give it.
" I do not think we can share this
tonight because alcohol has sent
me spinning," I mumbled, but Marc
just shook his head and
kissed me again.
Marc: I cannot allow that substance
to set you adrift in the land of sleep
because I am going to make love to you.
Narrator: Before any protests can be made
his lips are on Rick's mouth. Marc's hands
peel off our protagnosit's shirt. His belt
is their next goal. Soon Rick has been
stripped naked. Marc licks all over Rick's
body while removing his own
shoes, socks, and belt. Then he scoops
Rick up into his powerful arms and
carries him to the bedroom. While
necking and kissing, Marc unravels
his tie and unbuttons his shirt. Rick sits
on the edge of the bed, and Marc
pushes him flat on his back.
He removes a condom and tube of K-Y
from a nearby dresser, setting them on the
bed while unbuttoning and unzipping himself.
The pants fall away to reveal boxers that are
filled to the brim with an amazing erection.
Rick looks into Marc's eyes and sees
a stern, determined look that says: I
am going to take you, I am going to
make sweet love to you all night long.
Marc finishes removing his shirt and
pants. Now he rips open the condom
and tosses the wrapper aside.
He does not remove the boxers yet.
Marc: Raise your knees to your chest.
Narrator: Once Rick follows this order,
Marc opens the tube of K-Y.
He puts some on his hand and then
massages it into Rick's backside.
Rick is all smiles, but Marc maintains that
stonefaced look of a man with a mission.
After a while, he stops rubbing Rick's
anus and slowly takes off his boxers.
Rick squeals at the sight of Marc's penis,
enjoying the look of the erection as it
bounces in its excitement to enter him.
He helps Marc roll the condom over
the beautiful cock, thanking God that
such a lovely dick likes entering men.
Then Rick lays back and brings his
knees to his chest again. He rests his
legs over Marc's shoulders. Now Marc
leans down and gets to work. Rick looks
down and sees Marc's lovely ball-sack
dangling. This new position is quite
interesting, Roger thinks to himself,
and while he is thinking this
Marc takes his hardon in his right hand.
He steadily guides it toward Rick's
waiting and anxious rear end. Soon Rick
is once again feeling the glorious presence
of his lover's cock being gently
pushed into his asshole. The sensation
is so familiar now, so full of pleasure,
and so welcome that his anal muscles
eagerly loosen up to accept the stiff rod.
Rick: Nothing feels more wonderful than
the initial push when the head of that
cock pops into my rectum. And then the
rest of the shaft follows suit, forcing
more and more of my anus to loosen up
so I can accomodate the entire length
of my lover's cock. That is what Marc
is doing now...gently sinking his gorgeous
rod deep into my ass...pushing so my
rectum will take it all, and believe me
I want it all!
Now I feel his beautiful hairy balls
touch the crack of my ass, and I know
I have taken his whole length. Now he
starts to move that lovely prick of his
in and out...slowly, lovingly at first.
Sparks set off inside me as I feel
his dick caressing each anal nerve ending
while he fucks my rectum into submission.
He takes his time with my asshole
and I love him for it...love having
his cock pole my rear end, making it
learn to love a big hard cock
thrusting into it.
Marc keeps a slow pace for quite
a while, then gradually starts to
increase his speed. I tell him,
" Go ahead, I'm a big boy...
I know how to take it up the ass."
He must believe me, or else he
would not pick up the pace
so easily. Now his cock is
happily gliding in and out of my
ass at a steady rhythm. Marc's eyes
are fixed on watching his dick
as it fucks me. My eyes are
studying his face, watching how
turned on he gets when he sees his
very own cock entering my ass.
Marc: What a warm, soothing home
your rectum makes for my cock.
Rick: You know I always appreciate it
when that cock comes in and just
makes itself at home.
Narrator: By this point Marc has gained
quite a bit of speed. Now his whole shaft
is slamming in and out, banging Rick's
prostate while the bottom man strokes
his own erection. There is not one second
of pleasure missed by either partner.
Rick: I know how badly you want me...
I can feel your cock throbbing inside my
tight backside. Make love to me exactly
like you imagine yourself doing...make love
to that sweet, tight ass. Push that cock
all the way inside...so deep inside me.
Narrator: His own words are enough
to push Rick over the edge, and he
finds himself shooting a great load
across his stomach. Seeing this sight
in turn sets Marc's orgasm into motion,
and Rick can feel the condom expand
as his lover's load empties into it.
EPILOGUE
Rick: So there you are,
now proud owner of my
entire life story, or as much as I think
would be of interest to you all.
There you are, and here I am,
sitting here reminiscing for your
entertainment while I grow old and
withered in a gay man's body.
The days are long gone during which
I used to feel ashamed that this
gay man's body was my body.
There it is: my life story...
too much, or perhaps not enough,
but it has been told nevertheless.
For those of you who wonder:
did he find true love with Marc?
Do they still share their hearts
with one another? The answer is
a happy and resounding yes.
Throughout the years our
physical love life has grown
stronger and more adventurous,
but these gay sex moments do not
cry out to be retold to you. They do not
add to the story, but they might detract
from it, so enjoy the sessions you have
been able to read here...but I will say
that this lover is the mightiest one I
could ever have hoped to receive,
meaning his intellect and his body
are both strong and admirable.
No one else I know has ever had
such a complex, philosophical mind
(or such a magnificient cock).
Now my story must come to and end,
hopefully giving you a sense of optimism.
My life has had its share of mountains
and valleys to travel, yet now I have
finally reached a plateau. Everything
has evened out. On the verge of the
twenty-first century I embrace my
lover at night. We know what it means
to dwell in one anothers' souls
and yet still retain your individuality.
Feel no more sorrow for me.
My pathetic teenage days
and my misogynistic days
and my gaybashing days
and my suicidal days
have all come to an end.
Now all there is...all I know...is peace.
At night while drifting off to sleep, I
always hope and pray that everyone
in this worl will also someday discover
just exactly who they are...will come to
know themselves, and love themselves,
and experience such sweet bliss as this.
THE END