Date: Mon, 26 Jun 2006 16:52:44 +0000
From: Moore
Subject: The Truth - Part One

Jesus said, "...you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make
you free."  John 8:32

In modern times, an anonymous, but equally wise man said, "ALL MEN
must know the truth to make a GAY MAN free."


THE TRUTH

BY:  MOORE


PART ONE

CHAPTER
ONE

The suit was Saville Row, one of six conservative, bespoke suits
purchased on his last business trip to London. The lush cotton shirt
and silk tie, both hand made, were from shops in Hong Kong. The
highly shined shoes were Italian, hand stitched of leather prepared
by an exclusive tannery. Judging by his clothes and impeccable
grooming, the fortyish looking man might have been an attorney or a
physician or the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. He was neither, nor
was he as young as he looked.  Steven Rogers was a financial advisor
to wealthy, old-money families and several small countries; fifty
six candles would grace the cake that his wife of thirty five years
had ordered from the pastry shop near their Park Avenue apartment
for his party this evening.

"I won't be back in the office today," Rogers said to Nancy Jones,
his personal secretary, when he returned with his briefcase in hand
from his private bathroom. The attractive young woman handed him
several files which he scanned before slipping them into the thin
leather case. He snapped the lid shut when Jones came towards him
with another file.  Rather abruptly Jones thought, as though her
boss didn't want her to see what else was in the case.

Truth be told, Steven Rogers did not want his secretary to see the
pair of Sulka boxer shorts that were inside the case. Silk shorts
he'd removed in his private bathroom and replaced with a cotton mesh
thong from the Calvin Klein line of men's underwear. The inexpensive
thong he wore now, provocative and highly suggestive to say the
least, was more appropriate and practical for his afternoon's
activity...more in keeping with the well concealed side of his
personality.

"You'll attend to those two wires, Miss Jones, for the Barbados
account and the Euro transfers to Switzerland for the 2005 taxes?"

"Yes sir," she replied efficiently, wondering for the millionth time
what he'd be like in bed, and what it would be like to be married to
such an attractive, considerate and extremely wealthy man. "May I
call your cell phone if I need to reach you?"

"No," he said quickly, more sharply than he intended.  "I'm sorry,
Miss Jones, I didn't mean to be brusk, but I don't wish to take any
calls."

Nancy Jones smiled inwardly, certain that her boss had a mistress
that he visited two afternoons a week. His wife, whom she tried to
avoid, was a bitch. Rarely in town, Norma Rogers was a vain,
shallow, social climbing jet-setter that had had one face lift too
many.  She spent her time at their mansion in East Hampton and, if
the rumors were true, with the tennis pro at their country club.

My boss is such a sweet guy, she repeatedly told her girlfriends
over lunch. He works so hard, his wife is a bitch.  He deserves to
have a mistress, someone young and caring in his life and his bed.
Someone like you? Her girlfriends chided, to which Nancy responded
enthusiastically that she would sleep with her boss in a heartbeat.

"I'll see you in the morning, Miss Jones."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Rogers. Oh, happy birthday, sir."

It will be, Steven Rogers thought as he waited for the elevator. A
very happy birthday if old Max is able to deliver the special gift
I asked him to arrange.

"I can't promise anything," Max had cautioned when Rogers made the
request. "What you want is hard to find at any price, even in the
Big Apple where everything's for sale."

"Do the best you can, Max, a year either way," Rogers had responded.
"Don't worry about the cost."

Rogers walked past the limos and yellow cabs, preferring the speed
and anonymity of the New York City subway to take him downtown. His
destination, were it to become known, would raise more than a few
eyebrows among his family, friends and conservative clients.  The
erotic thoughts racing through his mind as he came up from the
subway and walked the two blocks to the side street shop could, if
turned from fantasy into reality, land him on the front page of the
Daily News and land him in jail.

He thought too, eyeing the gay teenage boys that flocked to this
part of the Village, of how it all began.

CHAPTER
TWO

"That was quick," Steven Rogers said as he started the engine of his
dad's new '64 Chevy and fiddled with the radio.

Larry Franklin, Steven's best friend and double date partner, lit up
a Marlboro and let out a sigh with the cloud of smoke. "Her father
met us at the door, not even a kiss goodnight. Your goodnight with
Norma was pretty quick too," he said, taking another long drag and
passing the butt to Steven. "You get a kiss at least?"

"I suppose you could call it a kiss, in her mother's kitchen. Very
romantic, I'll tell you. You know, it doesn't really matter because
well, Norma doesn't really turn me on anyway." Steven stared blankly
at the cigarette for a moment, then cautiously asked, "Susan do
anything for you?"

Larry took back the cigarette and took a final drag before tossing
it out the window.  Although he had rarely experienced it with any
girl he dated, he knew exactly what Steven meant...an erection. The
raging boner that guys bullshited about. The feelings brought on
when making out with a girl, the ache to touch her breast, the
hardon that begged for relief.

"Not really, no," he said turning towards his friend with a pensive
look on his face. "But there is somebody who does."

Steven felt the tiniest little pang of jealously. "Who? Tell me."

"I can't."

"C'mon, tell me. I'm your best friend."

"I know," Larry said, sorry now that he'd said anything. "That's why
I can't tell you."

"That's why you should tell me. C'mon, Larry, who turns you on?"

Larry turned away, stared out the side window at the darkened street
until he felt Steven's hand on his shoulder.  The physical contact
pushed him over the edge, he couldn't keep the secret locked inside
any longer or keep his penis from growing erect.  He had to let it
out, tell Steven how he felt no matter the consequences. The secret
desire was eating him up alive. He turned back to Steven, took a
deep breath and spoke the words that would change two lives forever.

"You do."

"Me?"  Steven's heart fluttered. "I turn you on?"

Larry put his hand on Steven's cheek. "Yeah you, Steven, big time."

For an awful moment Steven thought that Larry was joking, until he
looked closely at his friend's face and into his teary eyes.  Larry
was dead serious; as was the hand caressing his cheek and the hand
that had come to rest on his thigh. Steven began to shiver, though
the late spring night was warm, and feel a bit light headed as the
meaning of Larry's words and the placement of Larry's hands hit
home. You can know someone for years, and not really know them at
all.

"Are you shocked?" Larry asked.  "Freaked out that I, you know, feel
this way about you?  I'll understand if you are, if you don't want
to be friends anymore."  Friends anymore with a homosexual, Larry
thought, blinking away a tear.

Steven was too choked up with emotion to speak. He had a million
things he wanted to say to Larry, feelings he wanted to share, but
the words wouldn't come. He shook his head no, shook off the guilt
demons that tortured him, then did something he'd wanted to do for
a very, very long time.

They disagreed later about the singer on the radio when they
nervously touched lips and kissed. Steven thought it was Dionne
Warwick, Larry insisted that it was Barbara Striesand. They did
agree that the first tentative kiss had been a magical moment, that
the hungry, passionate, tongue probing kisses that followed had
unloosed an identical flood of unspoken, urgent and long suppressed
desires...homosexual desires.

Neither boy gave voice to the word homosexual, though it was on both
of their minds.  The dreaded words, queer and fag lodged there too
perhaps. Gay still meant happy in the mid 1960's. These were issues
to be dealt with some other time or not at all.

"This is crazy," Larry panted when they came up for air.

"Yeah, I know, crazy," Steven panted back, "Crazy good. I've never
felt this way before...never thought I'd be kissing you. I'm a
little afraid of these feelings."

"You don't want to stop?" Larry worried, one hand inching closer to
Steven's crotch, the other struggling to undo the buttons on his
shirt.

"No. You?"

"I don't want to stop either. I want to kiss you some more and hold
you and.... Let's move to the back seat where there's more room."

"Okay, no wait. Not here, Larry, someplace private and safe." Where
we can get naked together, he thought but did not say.

Steven thought for a moment and then quickly drove to the small park
next to the elementary school. There were no houses here and few
street lights, no chance of a late night dog walker being shocked by
two teenaged boys giving life to their homosexual fantasies.  They
left their shirts and pants in the front seat and, with erections
straining their jockey shorts, scrambled into the back. The car
rocked on its springs as they groped each other, rubbed their bodies
together in the narrow back seat. The windows fogged over and their
bodies became slick with perspiration in the cramped and overheated
space.

"C'mon, Larry, it's safe," Steven said as he opened the back door.
"Nobody comes here at night."

"You sure?  I'd hate to get caught."

"I'm sure. You think I want to get caught in my jockey shorts? It's
too hot in the car, not enough room."

The walked a short distance into the park, settling behind a large
shrub. Larry remained on his feet while Steven spread out the
blanket he'd taken from the trunk. Larry was nervous, looking all
around the deserted park, straining so hard to hear the sound of a
footstep that he didn't see or hear Steven take a kneeling position
at his feet. He felt the hands on his waist though, then fingers
roaming against his bare skin inside the waistband of his jockey
shorts.

"You don't have to."

"But I want to." Steven stuck his tongue in Larry's naval, then
pulled down Larry's shorts and took his erection in hand.

Larry gasped as Steven stroked his rock hard penis and fondled his
testicles. "Oh, shit, don't stop. That feels so good."

Both boys were shivering and shaking, breathing hard, it was
impossible to determine which of them was enjoying it more. Larry's
eyes flew open when Steven's wet lips grazed the head of his prick.
"Are you sure?" He whispered, catching Steven's eye.

"Yes," Steven replied, "I'm absolutely sure." He kissed the tip of
Larry's penis. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life. I
want you...your cock, Larry...I want your cock in my mouth."

"I'll lie down so you don't have to kneel."

"No," Steven said, kneeling was part of his fantasy. "Like this is
just fine."  Those were his last intelligible words before taking
Larry's penis into his mouth. Only grunts, groans and the various
animal like sounds of humans having sex followed over the next few
minutes.

Larry was unaware that Steven wasn't very skilled...he didn't need
to be good, just enthusiastic, which he was.  The oral sex was
stimulating enough and Larry was soon on the brink of orgasm.

"I'm so close," Larry said. "You better stop or...oh my god this
feels so good, or I'm gonna cum."

Steven had no intention of stopping until Larry climaxed. "S'okay,"
he mumbled, tightening his grip around the base of Larry's shaft.
He'd come this far, fulfilled half of his fantasy, he wasn't about
to stop until Larry fulfilled the rest and ejaculated into his
mouth. He didn't have to wait but a moment longer.

Larry's semen burst into Steven's mouth in furious spurts. Larry
bucked as he came, rose up on his toes and would have toppled over
had he not grabbed Steven's head for support. Steven gagged as
Larry's hips thrust forward, an instinctive reaction shared by
copulating mammals, human and animal alike, to propel their sperm
infused semen towards the female's eggs awaiting fertilization. That
this was an orgasm and seminal release brought about by a homosexual
coupling, a barren human mouth receiving the sperm, was incidental
to a millennia of reproductive evolution.

Steven maintained a firm liplock on the throbbing head of Larry's
penis, sucking still as the last of the sharp tasting semen oozed
into his mouth. "No more, please," Larry cried pulling out, his
penis too sensitive after his climax. Breathing hard, he sank to his
knees and gently put Steven on his back. "I'll do you now," he said
anxiously, lifting Steven's erection away from his stomach and
towards his own mouth. "You're not going to believe how good this is
going to feel."

Steven, his tongue and throat still tingling with the taste of
Larry's sperm, lay back and spread his legs wide. "And you're not
going to believe how good it feels to do it."


CHAPTER
THREE

"Hello, Max," Steven Rogers said to the elderly man behind the
counter. The store was empty, the lunchtime crowd having gone back
to work, and would remain so until shortly after five o'clock.  This
suited Rogers who secretly owned half of the business. He trusted
Max to keep his secret, but worried that others might find out.
"How's business?"

"I can't complain, sex sells, though the new law is killing me. Half
the shop filled with merchandise that nobody wants.  Who comes to an
adult store to buy stuff for kids?"

"Politics, Max. The mayor's being pressured to close down stores
like this. Look what they've done to Times Square.  Speaking of
kids, were you able to arrange what we discussed?"

"I tried, Steven, really tried. That age group is tough, like I told
you. Young girls, feh, I can get all you want, but nobody's dealing
in adolescent boys these days.  The church scandal has got everybody
running scared. I got a real nice college boy, an eighteen year old
freshman, standing by if you want him."

Rogers turned away, clearly disappointed, and slowly walked to the
section of the shop where the gay magazines were displayed on open
racks.  His erection, though not his spirits, was somewhat restored
as he idly leafed through the photos of naked young men. A two page
spread featuring Asian boys brought back fond memories of his trip
to Bangkok and his first encounter with a pre-teen boy.


The business had gone well and his Thai clients had arranged to
celebrate at one of Bangkok's best private sex clubs.  Girls and
boys of various ages were both available, Rogers observed, and the
girl his clients selected for him was very young and very beautiful.
Rogers enjoyed the bubble bath with her in his private suite and
even grew mildly aroused as her nude, soap-slicked body rubbed
against his own. He politely declined the thinly veiled offer of
sexual intercourse.

"No want fuck my pretty pussy?"  The surprised girl said in passable
English, trying to salvage the fee she received when a man or the
occasional woman made further use of her body. "How about nice blow
job, mister?  I lick your big balls, cock suck your big cock real
nice...make you cum real good."

Rogers shook his head no, but the girl persisted, reluctantly adding
what she knew could be dangerous, but what no man had ever refused.
The money was more important than the threat to her health. "No wear
rubber to suck your big cock, mister. You make the sperms in my
mouth, okay?"

Rogers laughed, gave her a hundred dollar bill and sent the
confused, but happy young girl on her way.

He gave it a great deal of thought that night as he tossed and
turned in his hotel bed. He considered the risks all over again when
he awoke the next morning and felt a stirring between his legs when
he thought about the rewards.  Decision made, Steven Rogers returned
to the club that night, alone. He was driven by a desire that had
been growing more insistent and was emboldened to take the risk by
the anonymity of the club.  Steven Rogers paid the fee, in cash,
then made his own selection from the group of achingly beautiful and
very young asian boys.

"I'll bring the boy to you shortly, sir," Mr. Wang, the club's owner
said respectfully, without so much as a raised eyebrow. "Please have
a drink in the Cupid lounge."

Steven Rogers was completely at ease now, secure in the knowledge
that nobody knew who he was and, to his great surprise, that nobody
thought it unusual or seemed to care that he, a middle aged man
wanted to buy the services of an adolescent boy.  Rogers strolled
into the Cupid lounge and ordered a single malt scotch.  Two well
dressed men sat together at a nearby table. Brits, Rogers surmised
by the cut of their suits as he finished his drink and ordered
another. They waved him over, "Join us," one called out. So he did.

"You're American, right?"

Rogers nodded as he took the offered seat, noticing at once that the
table was inlaid with photos of naked Asian boys in various erotic
poses. He sipped his drink and nearly choked on the expensive scotch
when one of the men began to talk.

"We're both homosexual, Bruce and I. We've been coming to Bangkok
since we ended our sham marriages to twin sisters about five years
ago. Our children had a bit of problem at first, queer dads and all
that rot, but they've gotten over it and now everything's hunky
dory. Asian lads are so pretty, don't you think?"

Rogers sipped his scotch, shocked then amused by the man's candid
admission. "Yes they are pretty," Rogers said, surprised at himself
for speaking so frankly. Hiding his true feelings behind a wife and
kids and other heterosexual trappings was deeply ingrained.

"Uncircumcised too, their delightful little cocklets. Hardly more
than a mouthful I daresay. And smooth, round arses with pink
puckered rosebuds. Ripe cherries just waiting to be picked. Bruce,
here, the bloody old queer, he likes them very young."

"Not too young now, Nigel, you bloody old boy lover," Bruce
protested mildly. "I prefer that my boys be aged...like my scotch
whiskey.  Eight years old is nice and smooth, though twelve years
old is best when I'm wanting a taste of something stronger if you
get my drift.  The semen from a boy just entering puberty is so damn
smooth and so bloody sweet. Have you selected your boy yet, Mr...."

"Smith," Rogers supplied, stifling a laugh with a large swallow of
scotch. "John Smith. Yes I have."

"Ahhh, John Smith. We meet a great many American tourists named
Smith in the Bangkok sex clubs."

"It's a common name in the states."

"For a most uncommon activity. Rather harsh penalties in the states
for a man too fond of little naked boys.  Same in the UK and it's
such a pity, I think. What's the bloody harm if a young lad, say
eight or nine years old is willing to have sex with a man? Have you
been to Sri Lanka, John?"

"No I've not, Bruce. "Why do you ask?"

"Do you like to look at boys, John? Naked boys?"

Rogers hesitated, considering his answer. Bruce seemed to read his
mind.

"Come now, be truthful old chap. We're all three of us queers, fags
if you will...all three of us boy lovers at this table."

Rogers downed the last of his drink and peered over the top of the
empty glass at Nigel and Bruce. Men his own age, apparently wealthy
and so comfortably open, not only about their homosexuality, but
also about their preference for young boys. He envied their freedom
from the shackles of society and wished he had the courage to throw
off his own burdensome chains and stop living a lie. I can make a
start right now, he thought.

"You're right, Bruce, I am a queer," he said slowly. It felt good
not to lie, to make an honest statement of fact that, except for
three people, he had never before verbalized to another living soul.
"A queer," he said again, rolling the word on his tongue. The truth
was like a breath of fresh air that whisked him away to freedom.

Steven Rogers had been called a queer and a fag and other more
descriptive names like cocksucker, dick lover and scumbag, hundreds
of times in the last few years by men he'd never seen and who had
never seen him. Not his full face anyway, only his lips and lower
jaw as he gorged himself on their cocks through a hole in a wall.
His rear end was familiar to them all.

He liked the abusive language, liked hearing the words when a man's
penis was in his mouth or ass. Verbal abuse, visual and mild
physical abuse too, made the sexual experience more exciting and
enjoyable. Not once though, in all the years, had he spoken the
words aloud to another human being. But now he couldn't say them
enough.

"I am a queer, yes, a fag, and I love to look at naked boys."

"Then you must go to Sri Lanka, John. Lovely dark skinned boys on
the beaches near the capital city of Colombo.  Naked boys, John,
scores of frisky naked boys at play. Such a lovely sight watching
their little brown cocks and lovely balls dangling as they frolic on
the sand. Naked lads to feast one's eyes upon during the day, young
lads so willing to share one's hotel room at night."

"You don't say?"

"Oh, but I do.  Sri Lanka is a poor, English speaking country, the
boys understand what you want and will do most anything...don't
think me a glutton, John, but I've had three of these delicious
creatures naked with me in bed for the cost of a cup of tea in
London. You really must go."

"I'll plan on it," Rogers said, intrigued. He was already thinking
about what reason he could come up with to schedule such a trip.

"And now we must go, Nigel and I, for here comes Mr. Wang with our
two young companions. It's been a pleasure chatting with you, John.
I hope you enjoy your evening."

"I'm sure I will," Rogers said, shaking each man's hand. "I'm sure
I will."

Rogers sat alone, deep in thought when Mr. Wang returned a few
minutes later.  "This is Lon," Mr. Wang said, nudging the boy from
behind his back.  "He's a bit shy, only just arrived from a remote
mountain village."

Roger's took the boy's soft hand in his own and felt himself growing
aroused.

"He's an orphan and never been with a man according to the woman who
sold him to us.  His mouth and throat are unmarked, there are no
missing teeth...so perhaps she spoke the truth. We are certain that
he's never been penetrated, our doctor thoroughly examined him. We
don't know his exact age, but his blood tests reveal the onset of
puberty."

"He's beautiful," Rogers said, caressing the boy's smooth cheek.
"Does he speak English?"

"Lon has not spoken a word in any language since he arrived. We have
grown quite fond of silent Lon."  Mr. Wang paused a moment before
adding. "Hurt him if you must, sir, we understand that pain is an
integral part of some men's sexual pleasure."

"Not this man's," Rogers said sharply, appalled that any man would
hurt an innocent young boy.  Sex yes, oral and anal, but with care
and tenderness.

The suite was well stocked with creams and oils and all manner of
sexual toys and devices. A raised bed sat in one corner beneath a
mirrored ceiling and a large bathroom lay behind a pair of mirrored
doors. "Please call if you require anything at all," Mr. Wang said
before taking his leave.

Rogers simply looked at Lon for a while, hardly daring to believe
that he was alone with this beautiful boy...a boy that was his for
the night. When he could bear it no longer he removed his clothes
and beckoned the boy to his side.  "I'm not going to hurt you, Lon."
Rogers licked his nose, playfully and kissed him on the lips. "I'm
going to love you."

Lon stood perfectly still, perfectly submissive, his large dark eyes
remained focused on his feet as the man he must obey removed all of
his clothing. Rogers sighed deeply with pleasure and lust as he
gazed upon the perfectly formed, light brown body of this naked
young boy. He embraced Lon, clutched the incredibly smooth, naked
flesh to his own hairy body and smelled, then tasted the sweet flesh
of his neck.

"I have to have you," Roger's said, aroused as never before in his
life. He swept Lon off his feet and carried him to the bed.

Lon lay unmoving, moaning softly as Rogers, blissfully lost in the
taste and the scent of the boy's firm, hairless body, licked him
from head to toe. Trembling now with lusty desire, he put the boy's
slender legs on his shoulders, spread the cheeks of his ass and
teased the pink anus with the tip of his tongue. The head of Lon's
brown penis emerged from his foreskin as his body reacted to the
stimulation.  Rogers kissed the small, slotted jewel and the two
rounded jewels below, then took the length of the boy's stiff, warm
penis into his mouth.

Time and again Rogers brought the quivering boy to the brink of
orgasm; sucking him gently, caressing his testicles, pausing and
then resuming, prolonging the exquisite torture. Lon twitched,
bucked and squirmed, his body consumed by sexual pleasures that
cried out for relief. Rogers was thrilled to see the drop of
preseminal fluid, an indication of sexual maturity and the young
sperm yet to come. He licked away the shiny pearl, Lon squealed with
delight and promptly climaxed.

Rogers held the boy's abundant semen in his mouth for several
minutes. The creamy fluid; Lon's very first emission of sperm which
Rogers had no way of knowing, was pleasantly salty and smelled like
fresh steamed rice. Lon was in his arms while Rogers savored, then
swallowed the boy's sperm, and in his mouth again a moment later
when the boy's erection returned.

Dozens of men had ejaculated into Steven Roger's mouth since Larry
Franklin had done so more than forty years before. All but one of
those many homosexual encounters had occurred within the last five
years, since he turned fifty. All but the one, a chance meeting in
Utica, New York some thirty years ago, had been faceless encounters
with unknown men on the other side of a tearoom wall.

Rogers wished it could be different, more like the long-remembered
experience in Utica. As enjoyable as he found it he ached to do more
than merely fellate a stranger through a hole in a wall. He longed
for the physical contact of another male's body against his own, the
kissing and foreplay that sent waves of pleasure rippling through
his body. But above all else he felt the need to preserve his
identity from the men he had sex with. The organs were bigger, the
men more demanding to be sure, but as Steven Rogers lay naked in bed
with this tender, young, Asian boy in his arms he could think of no
other place that he would rather be.

The hours flew by, Rogers lost count of the times he had cum in
Lon's mouth and in his rear. Piercing the tiny, pink anus had been
easier than he thought possible. Lon squealed when Rogers entered
him the first time. Tears sprang forth from his dark eyes which
Rogers kissed away. The second time was easier still.  Lon's penis
signaled the pleasure he felt as Rogers grew erect.

What an experience that was, Rogers thought as he turned away from
the rack of gay magazines, adjusted his thong encased erection and
went to find Max.

"I'll call the college boy," Max said in response to Roger's
request. "Won't take but a minute."


CHAPTER
FOUR

Steven Rogers and Larry Franklin's secret homosexual relationship
continued hot and heavy for the remainder of their senior year and
throughout the summer months.  The excitement of college in the fall
was tempered somewhat by the awful realization that come September
they'd be in schools a thousand miles apart.  They had sex as often
as they could safely manage it, not nearly as often as they wanted.
Often frustrated by the lack of a place to go when the daily desire
to have sex with each other had to be postponed. They racked their
brains to think of a secure place and came up empty. The risk of
discovery, the unspoken but equally shared fear of being outed as
homosexuals was just too great to take any chances.

Double dates, usually with Susan and Norma, provided the safest
means to a glorious, naked romp in the park or in the back seat of
a '64 Chevy. They went at each other like animals once the girls had
been dropped off. Tearing off their clothes to free their raging
hard-ons and groping each other as their lips met in a bout of
frantic kissing. Steven usually went down on Larry first. Licking
Larry's sensitive nipples, then licking his way down Larry's tight
body until he reached his destination.

"Do me already, oh god, please do me," Larry would cry out when
Steven lingered too long around the base of his cock. He wouldn't be
rushed though because he was enthralled with the smell of Larry's
crotch. The smell under the testicles, close to the anus was
particularly intriguing and Steven would have his fill before taking
Larry's erection into his mouth.

He really had to work to get Larry off, sucking sometimes until his
mouth grew tired and his neck began to hurt.  "Don't stop," Larry
gasped when Steven took a much needed break. "I'm so close, please
don't stop."

Steven climaxed so quickly when Larry went down on him. He found it
incredible that Larry could hold out for so long. "I get so
excited," Larry tried explaining, "Like I'm cumming a thousand times
before I shoot."

The roots of Larry's homosexuality was a mystery. He'd rarely
masturbated, hadn't been abused as a child by a relative or family
friend, or had an arousing sexual experience of any kind until he'd
come out to his long-time friend. Steven, on the other hand, had
masturbated frequently a full year before reaching puberty. His wet
dreams started early, vivid dreams with a recurring theme: nudity in
public places.  He hadn't been abused as a child, though he'd had an
experience which may have helped shape his personality.

The incident occurred at summer camp where he watched in fascination
with the other ten year old boys as their counselor stripped naked
and masturbated to climax. "It feels great to play with your dick
and jerk off a load of cum," Paul had said to the wide-eyed boys.
"Feels even better when a buddy does it for you."

The seventeen year old homosexual counselor coaxed the boys out of
their pajamas and urged them to play with their dicks. "You guys are
probably too young to cum, but let's have a contest and see who can
get a hard-on.  The winner gets an extra ice cream at dinner."

Paul watched carefully, hardening again at the sight of six naked
boys playing with their little, hairless cocks. It took all of his
will power not to reach out and fondle each of them.  Paul kept his
hands on his own cock, reminding himself to go slow, keep it light
and fun, that he had all summer to advance things along.  He took
particular notice of one boy's enthusiasm and bobbing erection,
singling him out to be first for some special one-to-one attention
as soon as he got him alone.

"You can touch it if you'd like," Paul said to Steven who was
staring transfixed at his erect organ. "Go on, it won't bite."

They were alone, loading the kiln with clay pots while the other
boys went off to the lake. Paul's bathing suit was at his feet,
Steven's skimpy, nylon suit did little to conceal his erection.

"It's so big," Steven said, moving closer to Paul. "Will it shoot
the white stuff if I touch it? That was so cool."

"It will if you stroke it like I showed you all yesterday. Would you
like to stroke it for me and make it shoot?"

"Yeah," Steven said, extending his hand.  Paul moved towards it, and
Steven took the large organ in his grasp. He giggled when Paul made
his cock jump. "How did you do that?" He asked. "Do it again."

Paul checked his watch, they had to leave soon and he wanted to get
off before rejoining the other campers.  He flexed his cock again
and then rode Steven's clenched hand to a thundering climax. Steven
barely flinched when the spurts of warm semen hit him in the chest.
"That tickles," he said, looking first at the streaks of semen on
his body, then up at Paul who had a very satisfied look on his face.
"Did I do okay?"

"You did great," Paul said as he dipped his finger into the sperm
and brought it to his mouth.  "Mmmm, that tastes so good. You wanna
try some? Go ahead, Steven, it's really good."

Steven dragged his index finger through the semen and brought it to
his mouth.  "It is good," he declared as the sharpness lit up his
taste buds.  "Kind of salty, but I like it."

Steven readily agreed to Paul's suggestion that they do this again,
naively unaware that Paul had more than a hand job in mind for their
next get together. With the right encouragement, Paul was thinking
ahead, I'll have this hot kid's little dick and balls in my mouth
and then I'll have him blowing me from his knees and taking my load
in his mouth.

It might well have happened too, if Paul and another like minded
counselor hadn't been discovered that night in a compromising
position. Both boys were terminated on the spot. Oral sex was not on
the camp's list of approved activities. They were sent home on the
next morning's bus.  Steven watched him leave, waved back when Paul
waved, and he never forgot the incident.

Sexually speaking their college years were uneventful. Larry and
Steven remained deeply in the closet, had sex only with each other;
perhaps a dozen times over the four years. They dated girls to avoid
the inevitable and unanswerable questions, and both were virgins
when they graduated in 1969 and rented a small apartment together.
Virgins still when they reluctantly yielded to parental and peer
pressure and married the following year; Steven to Norma and Larry
to Susan, and appeared to lead conventional married lives.

Steven performed poorly in his marriage bed. But well enough to
satisfy Norma, a Catholic girl who thought that sex, while not
actually dirty, was a burden to be borne for the sake of having
babies. Oral sex, giving or receiving, was simply out of the
question. Every other week was enough for her and more than enough
of a chore for Steven. He frequently masturbated in the shower,
enjoyed his little fantasies, and eventually discovered a rather
unique ability.

Sex with Larry, secretly and painstakingly arranged around busy
schedules and demanding wives was what sex was supposed to be about.
Daily sex with Larry, like they'd had when they lived together, was
but a distant and fond memory.  Larry was a better kisser than Norma
and he didn't require foreplay, much less the lengthy foreplay that
his wife needed to become wet and aroused. He smelled better too,
Steven thought, a musky smell that he found inexplicably attracting.
Decades would pass before scientists discovered the complex chemical
substance called pheremones and the roll they played in attracting
a mate in the insect and animal worlds. Human studies conducted in
the late 1990's revealed strikingly similar results. The evidence
was clear, heterosexual men and women became aroused when exposed to
the pheremones of the opposite sex.

A further study of exclusively homosexual men produced a shocking
and unexpected and somewhat controversial result. Not a single one
of the fifty four men in the blind study showed any response when
exposed to a woman's pheremones. The gay men were only receptive to
the pheremones of another male. All of the men reported feelings of
arousal, erections occurred in 65% of the group. Brain wave activity
in the sexual center of the brain increased markedly. One research
scientist was quoted in a medical journal: "It wont be too long
before we locate the gene for homosexuality."

"Would you do it with another guy?" Larry asked one evening while
the girls were busy in the kitchen preparing a joint wedding
anniversary dinner.  They hadn't had an opportunity to do it with
each other for two long months, and only a taste of each other at
that last time.  Neither had reached a climax.

"Depends on the guy and the circumstances, I guess,"  Steven
answered with a wink. "I never really thought about it." Not since
Friday morning, anyway, when the attractive office boy had dropped
off the mail, Steven thought to himself. For the last couple of
months he'd begun to look at men in a whole different light. Rating
them as potential sex partners, fantasizing a little and laughing at
himself when his penis got hard. He was hard now and tossed the
question back to Larry. "Would you?"

"I did. Well, almost. Last week when I was in Green Bay for the
conference. You want some more wine?"

Steven did a double take, too surprised to speak after Larry's
bombshell admission.  He found his voice a moment later when Larry
returned with the bottle of chianti. "No shit! Tell me."

"There's not much to tell. We met at the hotel bar and we just
started talking.  Innocent stuff. Where are you from, what do you
do...that sort of thing. Turns out that Todd, that's his name, he's
a male model from LA."

"Did he look, you know..."

"Like a homosexual? Not flaming and gaping if that's what you mean.
He was handsome, gorgeous really and I had my suspicions when Todd
described, in detail, the underwear layout he'd just completed for
Esquire. Then he sort of turned the conversation to sex and started
coming on to me, his hand accidently brushing my leg...resting
briefly on my knee sort of thing." Larry paused and drank some wine.
"I got a hard-on, he saw it. He was hard too in skin tight Levis. To
make a long story short," Larry drained his wine glass, "I said yes
when Todd suggested that we go up to his room to explore our obvious
mutual interests."

"Larry," Susan called out from the kitchen. "I forgot to buy the
rice mix.  Could you go to the store?"

Susan, Norma right behind, came into the living room with empty wine
glasses in their hands.  "What kind of rice?" Larry said, concealing
his annoyance as he poured the last of the wine into each of their
glasses.  Susan was disorganized and forgetful, which bothered the
hell out of Larry who was the complete opposite. She'd put on weight
too, a good twenty five pounds in the three years of their marriage,
which bothered him even more.

"The red box, I think, or is it yellow? I know it when I see it on
the shelf."

Steven saw an opening, a chance to get the girls out of the way for
at least a little while.  He turned to Norma. "Why don't you and
Susan go to the store? And pick up another bottle of wine while
you're out."

Larry saw the rare opportunity as well and quickly endorsed the
idea. "Get some ice cream too, sweetheart, and hot fudge."

The ice cream and hot fudge clinched it for Susan as Larry hoped it
would. "Come on, Norma, let's go."

Larry double locked the door while Steven hurriedly worked at his
belt and zipper. "Take it easy," he said as Steven dropped to his
knees, taking pants and jockey shorts with him. "We got some time
and a warning system. Susan'll have to ring the bell because she
forgot to take her house keys."

"Not nearly enough," Steven sighed as he breathed in Larry's musky
scent. There's never enough time, he thought, then hurriedly took
Larry's stiff penis into his mouth and began to suck.

Larry's sex life with Susan was little better than Steven's with
Norma. Susan liked sex and liked it often. They fucked like rabbits
in the first year of their marriage until Susan, a full figured girl
to begin with began to put on weight. He was repulsed by her flabby
body, hadn't touched her in a month, and without masturbation to
bring him relief, Steven wasn't going to have to work too hard or
too long this night to get Larry off.

The ragged breathing meant nothing, Steven knew from experience.
Larry could breathe that way for half an hour without reaching a
climax. The moans and sighs and exclamations of pleasure, even his
tight scrotum, while encouraging, did not mean that Larry was ready
to cum. It was only when his thighs began to quiver under Steven's
hand, when he rose up on his toes and put his hands behind Steven's
head, drawing him in on his cock, that Steven knew it was time to
back off to the swelling head or risk choking on the semen about to
be ejaculated into his mouth.

Larry always swallowed quickly when he was on the giving end of the
blow job, scrunching his face when Steven climaxed in his mouth. He
suffered in silence through the raw taste of the semen, relieved
when this part of an otherwise pleasant experience was over.

Steven, on the other hand, found the taste of semen mysteriously
appealing. In addition to the unique taste, the forceful spurts of
semen thrilled him as well, made his head spin. The warm, salty,
viscous fluid rushing into his mouth made him tingle all over with
renewed lust.  He didn't share his views with Larry, nor the fact
that he'd tried to duplicate the feeling by drinking his own semen
from a cup.

Absent a penis and the spurts, the affect was not the same. The
shameless perversion and self-degradation of the act was highly
arousing in itself so he did it again the next day in front of the
bathroom mirror.

This time he held the cup above his head, tilted it slightly and
watched as a drop of milky sperm dripped from the cup into his open
mouth. Steven lit up like a roman candle when the sperm landed on
his tongue. His spent organ surged with new life and his legs turned
to jelly. Holy shit that felt good, he thought, and raised the cup
again and again until he had consumed the scant teaspoon of semen.

Every night for a week, after Norma had fallen asleep, he slipped
out of bed with a throbbing erection with but one thought on his
mind. The cup proved messy at times and wasteful, a more direct
method was worth exploring. But try as he might by sitting in turn
on the toilet, the bathtub and the floor, and bending over, he
couldn't get his cock anywhere close to his mouth. Neither could he
get the thought of accomplishing the impossible from his mind.

It's probably fair to say that many a male, not just the dream of
every homosexual, has at some time in his life harbored thoughts
similar to those held by a frustrated Steven Rogers: If only there
was some way that I could suck my own cock. Some way that I could
cum in my mouth.

There was and Steven found it late one night in the guest bedroom
after much trial and error. By throwing his legs over his head and
pushing the soles of feet against the headboard, Steven Rogers was
able to close his lips behind the head of his penis. He also
discovered that by pulling down on his ass, three of his six inches
slid easily into his mouth. The feeling was awesome, physically and
psychologically, and it took all of his will power to stave off an
immediate orgasm.

Steven's heart was pounding as he uncoiled from the awkward position
and stretched out on the bed. He lay there, trembling, not daring to
touch himself lest he climax, and considered the possibilities. He
went to check that Norma was still sleeping soundly, then returned
to the guest room with but one even more exciting thought in his
mind: I'm going to give myself a blow job, suck my own cock, and cum
in my own mouth.

Mind and body separated as his penis hung down towards his face, the
head but a fraction of an inch from his mouth. He was two people at
this moment, and only one a closeted homosexual; the other a person
that changed at Steven's whim. A person who came to life in Steven
Roger's homo-erotic fantasy.

Paul, the counselor from camp who he'd never forgotten had been the
first fantasy partner to assist him, from age 12 onward with his
habitual masturbation. Others followed Paul as Steven got older,
real people he knew only casually or, and this was preferable,
people he did not know at all. Men who, in his fantasy, not only saw
through Steven's heterosexual facade to the submissive homosexual
that lived within, but also made him perform unspeakable sexual
acts.

Larry never appeared in the fantasy because Steven knew him too
well. He knew that Larry would never say the demeaning things that
Steven wanted to hear or make him do the degrading things that
Steven wanted to do. On this special night it would be Bob, the
burly maintenance man in his building who would participate in the
fantasy while Steven sucked his own cock.

"Please," Steven mumbled as he passed the head of his cock lightly
across his lips. "Please, Bob, I can't. Not here. Norma's asleep in
the other room. What if she wakes up and finds us...finds me with
your prick in my mouth?"

Spoken aloud or unspoken, he heard his own words clearly in his
mind, as well as Bob's laughter and response as the fantasy
unfolded.

"C'mon, Mr. Rogers, you called me, remember?  We both know how much
you want to suck my big dick. So what if your wife finds out that
she's married to a queer?"

He felt the sexual excitement of the self-inflicted humiliation, the
fear of discovery, like he'd never felt before. It was as though Bob
was with him, as though Bob's cock was actually hovering over him.
He protested mildly, as he might in real life, then quietly
submitted to Bob's imagined demands.

He kissed the shiny bubble of precum from the tip of his/Bob's
surging erection, then took three inches of his/Bob's dick into his
mouth.

Bob's voice rang out loud and clear in Steven's mind. "Suck harder,
faster, Mr. Rogers. Suck my dick, faggot, play with my balls. Oh,
shit, get ready, cocksucker. Here comes your reward."

"Cum inside me, Bob," Steven said, then fondled his/Bob's testicles
as his/Bob's warm semen flooded his mouth.

The following night it was Tim, the would be actor who waited tables
in the coffee shop where Steven had breakfast each morning before
work. Tim climaxed twice in Steven's mouth and called him a cum
eating, faggot scumbag between the blow jobs.

Then it was Seth, the friendly UPS delivery guy. Seth made Steven
beg, literally kneel in the nude by the side of the guest room bed
and beg for his cock.

Then William, who came around one afternoon collecting donations for
some charity. That night, William made Steven put a finger in his
ass and leave it there throughout the blow job and mind blowing
climax. William got invited back to the next fantasy and brought a
shaving mirror with him.

So you can watch yourself sucking my dick with a finger up your
butt, Steven said for William, shaking with excitement. The mirror
stayed in the guest room so that in future fantasies, Steven could
bear exciting witness to his own humiliation and escalating
perversions.

No man that Steven Rogers found attractive was safe from appearing
in his fantasy. On an out of town business trip, Stanley, the hotel
desk clerk made him tie a ribbon around his cock and balls. Steven
had eaten a big dinner with clients so he couldn't bend over far
enough after assuming his position on the bed. Stanley unhappily
settled for a hand job instead of a blow job and ejaculated all over
Steven's face.

Stanley returned at daybreak, laughed at Steven's morning erection
with the ribbon still in place and followed him into the bathroom.
He laughed again at the dried semen on Steven's face, then made him
lay back in the bathtub and urinate all over himself.

Leon, the Negro room service waiter got Stanley's blow job after
Steven had showered and moved his bowels. Steven struggled with this
one, his first interracial fantasy, before deciding how it would
play out. His bigoted, narrow minded father called black people
niggers; Jews were kikes, Asians were chinks, Puerto Ricans were
spics, and homosexuals...Steven shuddered at the memory of his
father's opinion on gays.  The man would roll over in his grave if
he knew that his son was about to fantasize about sucking a black
man's cock.

Steven Rogers was not losing his mind, he'd been fantasizing in one
way or another for years. Exciting himself to sexual arousal with
self-directed acts of personal submission and humiliation. Locked
deep in the closet, he had the hope, but little expectation that any
of his fantasies would ever come true.

Norma, unaware of what had been taking place on the other side of
the master bedroom wall for the past months, inadvertently put an
end to Steven's guest room forays when she announced plans to
redecorate the space.  She had taken up photography and she needed
a dark room.  "Yes dear," Steven said when Norma told him that all
the furniture, including the bed, had to go.

The bed was gone, but the fantasies lived on. His expanding duties
at work required out-of-town client visits, and hotel rooms allowed
his vivid imagination to run wild.

Larry always laughed after his orgasm. An involuntary laugh that
drained the remaining tension in his body. "Oh, god I needed that.
How long's it been?"

"Too long," Steven said, swallowing the last of Larry's sperm and
rising to his feet. The tile floor in the hallway was murder on his
knees.

"A day is too long. Lay back and I'll do you now."

Steven climaxed quickly, then flipped around to enjoy Larry's cock
for a few more minutes. Neither wanted to quit, but caution won out
over lust and they reluctantly disengaged from their sixty-nine and
retreated to the bathroom to clean up.

"We wasted all that time," Larry said with a laugh when the doorbell
rang twenty minutes later.

Steven grabbed his arm, "Wait a sec, I forgot to ask. What happened
with Todd, the guy in Green Bay?"

"Nothing," Larry admitted sheepishly.

The bell rang again and Larry went to open the door for their
returning, unsuspecting wives.

With his hand on the knob he turned back to Steven. "Todd kissed me
in the elevator, groped my dick and I got cold feet. I chickened
out."