Date: Fri, 1 Feb 2008 18:39:35 -0700
From: Jay roberts <diplomat1501@msn.com>
Subject: "Oscar Wilde's New Boy" by Jay Roberts   Gay History

===His name should indicate to guardians of under 18 year olds that this
story is not for them.  All others may attend this performance.


Oscar's play, "The Importance of Being Earnest" had been running at the
West End for five weeks.  Oscar was lionized by the very people who
formerly would not have had him at their table.  "I think," said Oscar,
mulling over his invitations, "that I am accepted because I have become
their invert...and joyfully....not French."  We laughed heartedly at his
bon mot and then playfully punched me in my upper arm that was already sore
from frequent enthusiastic punctuations of his pleasure in his own words.
"Poochie, write that down immediately.  I may use it someday."

"Poochie, your cravat is disorganized.  I always believe that a
disorganized cravat signifies a disordered life.  Eh, write that also."

Poochie was not my real name.  No one is named such a collection of letters
unless the object is a dog who unable to be insulted or defend itself.  My
real name is Leslie Lord Ambusher.  I am on a pause from my reading
contemporary fiction at Oxford.  My mentor, Dr. Fiske advised that I might
learn more from association with the great author and play write than I
might from years of study.

Mr. Wilde, as I called him until more recently when it became obviously too
formal when naked, came to speak to us.  He addressed his remarks totally
to me, thought there were twenty other students.  I admit that I was in the
first row and my spread limbs may have caught his attention.

We were taken with each other immediately.  Oscar's portraits do not do him
a favor.  Yes, he is large, but not fat, just big all over, if you get my
meaning.  He once said to me as I admired his endowment, "God did not put
too fine a point on it, did he?"  He told me that I stood out in that
assemblage all pink and white and blond among all those dark poorly shaved
boys.  I admit that I, what I once thought cursed, but now accept, t appear
years younger than my age of twenty.

"I'd adore to see your rooms Leslie.  Do you bunk alone?"

Actually I had two roommates, but fortunately both were back in North
Country for the fox hunting.  So I became the fox here, luring the hunter
to my lair.  Oscar was very business like once the heavy door to my room
banged shut.  "Remove your impedimenta to our knowing each other."

I stared at him in confusion.  "Your silly clothes, silly boy, see, like
this."  He proceeded to rapidly unfasten and drop his garments on the floor
and stood revealed in front of me.  Naked, he rather resembled an infant,
as he was fashioned similarly, except for his staff that stood out, what
appeared to my tender eyes, for a foot or so.  "I man's nose and his prick
are the two organs that have the courage to leave the contours of the
body," he advised.  He then approached me and his two hands aided mine to
unbutton all the buttons that hid my student body from the world.  When I
stood naked in front of him, he signed a diapason organ glut.  "Pan, thy
radiance dims the Sun."

I glowed at the obscure, but classical, praise, however my appreciation was
cut short, by Mr. Wilde's hoarse and urgent request, as he leaned across my
study desk, his large, smooth arse seemingly filling the room, at least my
consciousness.  "Hey laddie, consider this as part of your studies of
modern literature, fuck the master!"

I stepped forward and obeyed, not so much from pursuit of modern
literature, but rather my own horniness that had not been sated for many
months, except by my own hand, and that hardly accounted for a crumb of
pleasure compared to what was being offered to me now.

Mr. Wilde politely offered his big arse to me, inviting me to partake of it
by holding his cheeks apart in invitation.  I wasted no further time.  I
took my fat lance and pushed the big blunt head against the pulsing anis.
For a moment I thought I had been stopped at the gates, but by the marvel
of male anatomical flexibility, it opened and almost sucked me inside.

Now was the moment to change my partner's appellation from Wilde to Oscar
and I called out to him, "Oscar, you are going to be well fucked this day."

He mewled out an unintelligent reply.  This was unusual for a man of so
many words.  He was, however eloquent in his loud moaning, signaling that
my heavy thrusting was having a salubrious effect on him.

I would have preferred continuing this fucking for an hour, at least, as I
am not one to rush to an orgasm, but Oscar was quite overcome by my size
and vigor and he called loudly that I should shag him with my hand as he
was on the brink.  Bowing to his age and fame I obeyed.  Not more than four
or five strokes on his cock produced screams of pleasure and streams of
male cream.  He bucked like a tethered horse and I could not withhold my
orgasm.  It was prodigious, filling his insides and spilling out around his
hole and dripping on the floor.

"My lad, that was a fuck for the ages.  You have a talent beyond your
excellent student writing."

As we lay on my narrow cot, Oscar told me about some of these young
conquests.  "There was one lad, he looked a bit like you, although you are
unique in every respect.  His name was Johnnie.  He was a licker.  He loved
to cover every inch of the posterior with his labial ministrations.  He
once told me that to circumnavigate my arse was a task like Magellan's to
do the same for the globe."

Oscar was rich, for the moment.  He had engaged rooms in a fashionable
hotel in the city of London.  His wife and family remained at the house.
The time we spent together hardly improved my knowledge base of literature,
but I learned the six ways male could have sex together.  I'm sure you know
them, reader, as you have far more sophistication than I.  But, I can
enumerate them for the virgins, yes, there must be one out there, surely.
They are: suck him, he sucks you, you suck each other simultaneously.  You
fuck him, and the converse (thought I never essayed that).  Finally fucking
between the legs, also mutual.

I spent that time in total lassitude.  I was drunk with sex and fell asleep
frequently, even whilst talking.  Oscar found it adorable.  It frightened
me.  Oscar seemed to be greatly invigorated by our uncontrollable fucking
and might arise from our bed and go immediately to his writing desk and
work diligently as I slept, preparing my body for the next requirement.

These amazing events might have continued until, well. until one of us
died, I guess except for the sailor.

Ah yes, the sailor.  Here is how it came to be: Oscar announced that we
need a walk.  "The spring air is warm.  Let us stroll on the quay."

I knew Oscar and I knew what he had in mind.  The stretch of promenade
followed the harbor where many naval ships docked.  Seamen from all over
the world could be seen coming and going from the docked ships.  The sight
of these young fellows in their tight pants and many buttoned panels in
front, were the attraction, not the air or the exercise.

He donned his "hunting" outfit, the style of dress he supposed would entice
the young men.  I don't mean to be unkind, but when he was dressed, he
exhibited a stout, middle-aged dandy wear clothes a bit too tight.  He held
a hand mirror and looked over his shoulder to check the rear baggage
compartment.  By that I mean his backside.  Sure enough, the large mellon
halves were clearly displayed by the fawn colored trousers.

Down at the promenade we found a rough bench and we sat ourselves down to
view the parade.  I noted that one or two of the sailors glanced at us and
smiled and whispered.  They were wise to those gentlemen who fancied them.
Some chaps knew there was some money to be had.  Then we heard one fellow
still on board a ship, calling loudly to a three others, "Wait for me.  I
have one duty to finish."  The one who called caused Oscar to sit erect on
his perch.  His nostrils flared like a lion smelling the prey.  His mouth
opened and a sliver of saliva dripped onto his cravat.

I looked as well, and could see the reaction of my friend.  The boy was
tanned of face, and he boasted a mane of curly reddish hair.  When he
shouted he revealed gleaming white teeth with his full lips.  His upper
body that we were able to see over the railing was very muscular.  But it
was his voice that first attacked us, it was deep and mellifluous; the
voice of an intensely sexual boy.  He appeared young, perhaps eighteen, but
his wise looks and tone of voice suggested that we was very experienced in
the ways of life.

A moment later he caught sight of us.  A calculating look crossed his face.
He had sized us up and counted the money her might earn.  He called to his
mates, "Never mind waiting.  I may be longer than I thought.  I'll find you
at the Crow's Nest.  (That was a seamen's bar that Oscar knew.  He had been
there and paid for many drinks for many a tar, hoping it would lead to an
assignation.  The boy's companions shrugged their collective shoulders and
headed off.  As soon as they were out of sight, the handsome, captivating
seaman hoisted up his trousers, resettled his sexual organ and came down
the gangplank.  He headed directly to where we were sitting.  He stood
before us, his hips thrust out, his face smiling devilishly.  "What have we
here?  A toff and his young companion?  I would gladly join you and treat
you Govner and you young girlish sir, to a drink in the tavern, but alas, I
am totally without funds.  That is sad, is it not?"

Oscar was now on familiar ground.  A large opening had presented itself and
Oscar dove into it.  "Your name, seaman?"

"Billy.  That's as much name as I'll give you for nothing."

"So you need funds.  I can supply funds, but what will I get in return."

Billy grabbed his substantial bulge.  "I have always given fair exchange.
If you enjoy feasting on my warm sausage, I will oblige.  But should you
wish something more, something in the area of the portion of your anatomy
that is now applied to that bench, and then the exchange will involve a
large sum.  What say you?"

"Done and done," said Oscar, smacking one end of his fist on the palm of
his other hand, the age-old sign of a bargain struck.

Oscar got up and put his big arm on the boy's shoulder and began walking
toward our digs.  I followed along in the rear.  When we passed the tavern
where his friends were, he shook off Oscar's arm.  "Good conduct Gov whilst
we are still near the ship.  After that, you may be the dog you wish to be,
but......" he whispered, "I would cut my rates gladly for a go at the
comely young man following behind us."

Oscar laughed gleefully, "Yes, I entirely agree that he is comely, and you
young whelp, shall have a dance with him, as he will do as I say."

I was somewhat miffed at the way Oscar talked about me, but I was also
beginning to yearn for a toss with the seafarer.

As we neared the hotel, Oscar disengaged from his intimate position and
strolled rapidly advising us to behave and follow him at a respectful
distance.

Once inside the suite, Oscar removed his jacket, poured three large drinks
and passed them around like a giddy hostess.  "What is the attraction of
seamen, or in this case, sea boys, to men of my sensibilities?  I think
it's knowing that they have been denied sexual satisfaction on long voyages
and are eminently amenable to gentleman like me.  But it is also the smell
of the sea that clings to them.

When are drinks were finished, I found that I was quite on the way to being
drunk and I noticed that Billy was as well.  These were strong quaffs.  It
was quiet now; Oscar was seemingly memorizing the boy's appearance.  When
Oscar concentrated his full lips would purse out and I immediately began to
think of those warm, clinging lips as they burnished my cock stem on so
many occasions.  He had beautiful lips.  I saw that Billy had studied them
as well, and he again, as he seemed to do, grabbed his organ tugged it into
a new position.  "Is your prick becoming interested in the coming
proceedings?"  Oscar asked, reached forward and displacing Billy's
clutching hand with his own.  His tongue swept his red mouth and made his
purpose clear.

Billy's eyes narrowed, his visage to negotiate.  "Mr. Oscar..."

"No, no, I am Oscar Wilde, the poet."

"I know nothing of poetry, but I have a storekeepers grasp of finance.  I
see you have very pretty lips.  I would like to see them playing a tune on
my instrument.  My fee for this is two pounds."

Oscar gasped.  That will have to be the greatest cock on this Earth to ring
up such a sum.  Let me see what I am buying."

Billy arose.  My breath was audible as he smiled with perfect teeth and
lowered his white, canvas seamen's britches revealing typical naval
bloomers.  They were not so white, but Oscar seemed very pleased with them.
He pulled the boy close, put his fleshy hands at the bottom seam of the
underpants and pulled downward.  Sitting next to them, I was treated to the
odor of the genitalia, a spicy mixture of funk, piss and boyishness.  Oscar
took deep breaths as well, finally having his fill, he began to examine the
appliance in which he had invested two quid.

"Beautiful," he crowed.  Look at the smoothness, the pale color that
accentuated the ruby red crown.  And the bullocks, two globes rolling
around in sexual frenzy."

Billy was fast becoming sexually hypnotized by the unaccustomed admiration.
"Then sir, they it pleases you?  I see you nod.  And does the gentleman
wish to put those pretty lips about the mast I have erected? I see you nod
again.  I am quite out of breath.  Please sir, do your best to make me
propel my essence."

Oscar needed no further encouragement.  He opened his spit-covered lips and
sucked in the prick before him.  He licked and nuzzled and sucked and moved
rapidly.  Billy's eyes were closing and his tan face was turning scarlet
with excitement.  "Oh what a time you are giving me.  Do you wish to taste
my young spunk?  I am not far from lighting my cannon."

Suddenly Oscar sat back.  "No I think you are sufficiently primed, and my
friend Poochie is crazed with passion for you.  I will forgo my own
pleasure for the supreme generosity of giving my boy to you, another boy."
He turned to me.  "Poochie, bare your beauty for our naughty, naval
nasty-boy."

Almost in a trace, I rose and removed my clothes.  When I was naked, I
heard Billy gasp with astonishment.  "This must be the most beautiful body
outside of the British museum. "  He quickly removed the rest of his
clothes and we embraced, hot chest against chest.  He lifted his face away
for a moment.  "I have never kissed a man before, but I cannot resist your
beauty."  He leaned forward and pressed his hot lips against mine.  My head
began to swim.  Without thinking I opened my lips and allowed his saucy and
clever tongue to enter.  He explored all in his path whilst his hand rubbed
my chest and tickled my nipples.  I was completely at his mercy.  Strangely
my arse began to become the center of my need.  Somehow Oscar could see
this and he knelt behind me and licked my hot hole that kissed him back.
"He's ready Billy.  Make his virginal termination memorable."

Oscar gently pushed me so that I was on the floor, on my knees, and resting
on my elbows.  I was keenly aware that my young, hairless, smooth arse was
high in the air.

Billy trumpeted a cry of victory and pushed his perfect penis into my moist
hole.  As soon as he was partly in, I called out in fear and pleasure.
"What was that?  What hellish thing did you just do?  I feel conquered and
happy at the same time.  There is some organ just inside my arse hole that
has the ability to make me a slave to another man, but enjoy it
deliriously."

Billy laughed and Oscar joined him.  "You are joining the ranks of fancy
boys, your life has been changed.  You will only find sexual pleasure in
the future by giving yourself to another man, like a woman."

Billy didn't hear Oscar's words, he was deep in his own pleasure, humming
and cooing.

Oscar regarded my defeat and it inflamed his sexual passion.  He could not
stem his desire to be brought to the peak of sexual pleasure.  There was
only one thing he could do, and that would complete my subjugation and
humiliation.  He came to me and lifted my chin up.  He found me in a
grimace of excitement, mouth hanging open in a stupid way, but he was able
to gain entry.  He pushed his giant pink cucumber between my lips, and I, a
dumb child sucked it into my wet hot mouth.  It felt wonderful to suckle
this fleshy weapon as if I was born to the queer's skill of oral sex.
Oscar was entranced with my sudden found skills and his eyes closed in
passion as he felt suddenly that he had lost control and that his organism
was almost upon him.

Here I was, an Oxford scholar, a young noble being used by a common sea boy
for his pleasure.  A boy likely raised in the poorhouse, and Wilde, the
world famous homosexual, finding his enjoyment in my aristocratic mouth.
But instead of being repulsed, my very lowering to the role of an animal,
dedicated to bringing enjoyment to the two males raping my arse and mouth
bring my unbelievable heights of arousal.  I sucked furiously, trying to
sate my oral desire and it had the final effect.  Wilde screamed in a
high-pitched voice and his prick began delivering thick fragrant male sperm
into my throat.  Then searching for my animalistic pleasure I squeezed my
anis tightly and pushed back and forth, trying to illicit more sensation.
Billy felt his organ being roughly massaged into a crashing orgasm.  He
slapped my arse smartly in his throes and that threw me into my mindless
spewing of great quantities of my essence.

Finally the room was stilled from the cries and exaltations and the three
of us.  We separated to sit on different pieces of furniture, our breaths
struggling to normalize.

Billy, with outlaw, street, sensibilities was the first to recover and
speak.  "Mr. Poet, I have a rhyme for you.  'You've had rounds, now pay me
three pounds."

"Three pound?" Oscar squeaked.  "I contracted for two, and that was too
high."

"Yes, but I contracted for one person, not too.  If you fine gentlemen do
not pay, I will be forced to go to the police to complain."

I jumped up and riffled in my clothes and withdrew my pokie.  "Here you are
you little thief."

Billy laughed, dressed and pocketed his earnings.  He gave us a naval
salute and was out the door and down the stairs before we could say a word.
But dear Oscar, Oscar was never without a word, he put his hands together
temple-wise and mused, "A beauty is always in danger.  The world is jealous
and wants to destroy it.  Write that down.  You are lucky that you only
suffered the little death."

End

Personally I have tremendous respect for the genius of Oscar Wilde.  This
portrayal is certainly not true to the real Oscar.....or is it?