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Date: Sun, 21 Mar 93 02:16:11 GMT
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Subject: STORY: Rewind
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                     REWIND
                     Part I
                 Copyright 1993

I was born at Queen Of Angels Hospital on July 16,1924.
I attended Cheremoya Avenue School, Le Conte Junior High
and Hollywood High School. My parents, Tom and Rosemarie,
were typical Midwestern kids who had come to Hollywood in
hopes of making it into the movies. Mom had managed to
get a small roll in a Chaplin short, but Dad was always
a little too tall (or seemingly STRAIGHT) to ever be considered
for a part.
When it became obvious that they were NOT going to be
the new Pickford and Fairbanks, they settled for the
next best thing. Mom became an usherette at Grauman's
Egyptian Theatre and Dad became a streetcar conductor.
I suppose there was a logic behind Dad's decision
(beyond paying the rent) which reasoned that operating
a streetcar was a logical alternative to acting. By the
time I came along, they were well on the way toward
becoming good, decent and completely boring citizens.
All of this changed when, in 1928, Dad ran off with
Jake; an apprentice carpenter he met on the Hollywood
to Culver City run (So much for Straight). Apparently Dad
had been pulling
more than bell cords while Jake pounded more than
three penny nails. It was a match made in heaven,
but one that left Mom alone with a fledgling cocksucker
to support.
While I am the first to admit that, as a history,
all of this is positively anemic in comparison to
that of Dracula or Lestat (it isn't even vintage
"Bloodsucking Mutants From Uranus"), it DOES establish
a jumping off point for my tawdry tale of bloodlust
and debauchery.
It seems that my entire life has been influenced
by the movies. My first exposure to man to man
sex happened in the scenery dock of the Egyptian
Theatre. It was 1929. and, since Mom was now the
head usher, I had the entire backstage, basement
and loft as a playground. One day, while recreating
one of Fairbank's more daring scenes from The Man
In The Iron Mask, I heard a moaning coming from
far below. It was the Manager "interviewing" a
job applicant.
Being careful not to bump anything that would
make noise and give me away, I made my way across
the cat walk for a better look. I peered down
through the mass of ropes, counterweights and
backdrops. Below was Mr.Shapiro, his pants around
his ankles, fucking the shit out of this guy draped
over a cart wheel. I guessed from the conversation
that they were having a pretty good (if awkward) time.
As Mr.Shapiro pounded away, the applicant pushed
his butt back to meet Shapiro's thrusts. He was saying
things like "Fuck me,sir" and "Let me feel your big
cock in my ass" so this was definitely NOT the
"cocksucking" I had heard the ushers talking about
when Shapiro's name came up.
After what seemed like a VERY long time, Shapiro
threw his head back and let out with a loud groan.
Soon after, the applicant did the same and shot
his load on the 8th, 9th, 14th and 23rd spokes of
the wheel. Shapiro pulled out with an audible PLOP
and they put themselves back together. I heard
Shapiro tell the guy to report to the uniform
exchange the next morning, so I assume all this
"work" was worth it.
I waited until the door to the auditorium closed
and then rolled over on my back, alarmed at the
change that had come over my dick. I gently poked
at it before opening my pants to investigate. I
stifled a scream when I saw how big it had gotten.
I lay there in a panic, hoping the swelling would
go down. My mind raced as I tried to figure out
what I had done to cause this.
Finally, putting two and two together, it hit me.
THIS was related to THAT which I had just witnessed.
Since that was obviously GOOD, this wasn't BAD.
Since THIS was good, THAT was something I was going
to do as soon as I possibly could. As fate would
have it, another nine years would pass before I
would experience THAT.
In the years that followed, I became a fixture
in the usher's dressing room. Being a cute kid,
and reasonably quick on the uptake, I was accepted
as a sort of mascot. Little did they realize that
I was taking EVERYTHING in for future reference.
Now, when I saw one of the guys walk through the
dressing room, absently stroking a hard on, I
noted what he did next. "NEXT" was usually a
quick trip to the restroom...followed by the
sound of flesh against flesh...followed by a
moan. Sometimes if two were similarly afflicted,
they would duck into a stall, a pair of knees
would appear below the door and there would
be a "slurping" sound...followed by groans.
*Hmmmm. File this under "Cocksucking, T Room:see JACKING OFF".
Time passed quickly. In the years that followed
that fateful day in the fly loft, I had become
notorious in three theatre circuits. My best
friend, Jack, had taken care of my virginity,
on my 14th birthday, in the lower depths of
the El Capitan Theatre. By the time I was 16,
I had been "interviewed" by Mr. Shapiro and a
fair number of Assistant Managers, Head Ushers
and doormen. Even my childhood nickname, Mickey,
had been replaced by one more descriptive. To
be honest, I had never thought of myself as the
"Donk" type, but I liked the attention it got
me and I went with it.
By 1943 I was on my own. Mom had married Mr. Shapiro
(I'm still trying to figure THAT one out) and moved
to Boston, where he was to manage the Paramount Theatre.
Jack, being two years older than I, had enlisted in
the Navy and was somewhere in the North Atlantic. I
tried to enlist the day after I graduated from
Hollywood High but I was rejected for being a
sleepwalker. Feeling somewhat alone and abandoned,
I went to work as a bellman at the Hollywood Hotel.
It was an exciting period in the city's history.
Everyone had a common goal; to win the war. I,
being the good American citizen that I was, made
it my personal goal to make SURE every serviceman
shipped out with a smile on his face, a song on
his lips and a hard on that wouldn't go down
for a week. It was a time of great personal sacrifice.
Hollywood got a little bit wierder in the Spring
of 1948. The McCarthy trials were terrorizing
the upper echelons of Hollywood while a presumed
serial killer kept the man on the street looking
over his shoulder. I say presumed because there
were never any bodies.
Men of a specific "type" were simply dropping off
the face of the earth. If you were tall, blonde,
blue eyed and between the ages of 20 and 25 you
were in deep shit. By April the count had risen
to 23 and I, blonde of eye and blue of hair that
I was, found myself feeling very exposed and
vulnerable in a city of smug brunettes.
I was living in the Alto Nido Apartments, at the
top of Ivar, and spending a LOT of time behind my
double locked door. Even with Jack, who was now
safely out of the Navy, as my next door neighbor
I never felt entirely safe. I always felt WATCHED.
It was as if I was being sized up for something.
It was a warm Summer evening. Jack had just been
promoted to Assistant buyer for The Broadway Hollywood
and wanted to celebrate his good fortune. Although I
felt it was NOT in my best interests, I consented to
catching the 10:00 showing of Easter Parade at
The Los Angeles Theatre. This was not, in retrospect,
one of my brighter moves.
Tuesday evenings are traditionally a bad night
for films, and this night was not an exception.
The theatre was all but empty as we walked into
the cavernous auditorium. We found our seats and
I decided to make a quick trip to the men's room
Efficiency aside, the Red Cars were hell on the
kidneys. As I left the relative safety of Jack
and the auditorium, and made my way through the
elaborate lobby to the stairway down to the lounge,
it never dawned on me that I was also leaving
behind all I had ever known  and loved.
The lower lounge was two levels below the
street and as quiet as a cemetery on a Winter
night. The indirects, having been dimmed to
mask the water stains on the walls, cast small
pools of light that looked like drops of pale
blood on the threadbare carpeting. In a dark
corner, a prism viewer, now fallen into disrepair,
continued to reflect distorted and foggy images
from the auditorium screen for eyes long since
turned elsewhere.
I paused just long enough to allow my eyes to
adjust and then descended the last three steps.
I crossed the expanse, avoiding the "pools",
and entered the men's lounge. A flickering
pink spotlight at the far end of the room
cast strange reflections on the carrera marble
walls, giving the veins of color a look of pulsing life.
I headed for the nearest stall, having reasoned
that the urinals would leave me exposed to attack
from behind. It was, of course, locked. As I made
my way down the line, finding all of them similarly
secured, a sense of unease washed over me and swept
away all logic. My instincts
told me what my mind rejected; I was being "corralled".
It wasn't so much of a sound as it was a sensation
that made me stop and turn around. It was as if the
fabric of space and time had been shifted and torn.
I forced myself to face whoever waited for me in
the dark.
The distant shadows seemed to part as a man
stepped into the first spot of light. He paused
for a moment before advancing into darkness.
Like a hunter, he seemed to be sizing me up
before making his move. Again into light,
again into darkness...into light ..dark ..
light ...dark.
He was at last upon me, and I was not afraid.
Like hell I wasn't! I took what I hoped would
be enough steps backward to allow me sufficient
forward momentum and then charged the fucker.
Rosemarie's little boy was not about to go out
without a fight.
Although I can only speculate as to the accuracy
of this simile, the impact was like running head
first into a streetcar doing 40 miles an hour and
I was sent sprawling ass over boxers on to the
tile floor. Shaking my head, I got up and charged
again, meeting with pretty much the same results.
There was no longer any doubt about it. They had
definitely skimped on the ceiling when they built
this place. I knew because I was becoming an
expert on them very quickly.
Instead of becoming enraged, he actually appeared
to be enjoying my futile attempts and continued
forward. I got to my feet and braced myself for
whatever was to come. My back against the wall,
I raised my eyes to meet his. I had seen enough
Ronald Coleman films to know when to face my
destiny like a man.
My "destiny" was in the shape of the most
(if the term can apply here) beautiful, utterly
perfect man I could have ever imagined.The first
thing I noticed were his eyes. They were large,
with thick lashes. It would be inaccurate to say
they were devoid of color because they seemed to
flash distant bolts of blue and green lightning.
His face was framed by thick, unfashionably long
hair that dropped to his shoulders in heavy waves.
His slightly Roman nose was offset by a wide,
sensuous mouth that revealed perfect white teeth
when he smiled. His skin, while seeming to be
unnaturally pale, was smooth and unlined.
He was tall, at least 6'5" and outweighed me by
a good 15 or 20 pounds. He had broad, thickly
muscled shoulders and powerful arms. His chest,
which showed no signs of the rise and fall of
breathing, was massive and well defined, as if
chisled from years of hard physical labor.
His long torso gave way to a narrow waist, a
beautifully rounded ass and powerful legs. He
was in an obvious state of arousal and sported
what appeared to be a huge (and most likely uncut)
dick that extended halfway down his thigh. Only years
of practice could have revealed so much detail in what
was no more than a flash in time. I looked away, afraid
of what closer inspection would reveal. When I looked
again, he smiled and.put his hand to the side of my
*face. "No fear"
Hold it! Let's rewind the film a couple of frames
here and get some facts straight. This is NOT a
Lizabeth Scott programmer where the lady in distress
finds her tormentor to be a good guy, somewhere in
the last five minutes. Beautiful and perfect that
he was, this guy had every intention of nailing
my perfect little butt to the wall.
At this moment in time, the ONLY thing about
him that I found to be attractive was the broad
stretch of open tile that stretched out behind
him. As I saw it, the only chance I had of avoiding
whatever he had in mind for me was a last minute
rescue by whatever knight in white armor happened
to be galloping down Broadway at the moment.
I was, in a word, FUCKED!
As I fell deeper into his black and emotionless eyes,
my will to fight grew weaker. I no longer had control
of my vocal cords, so a cry for help was out of the
question even if there had been someone to hear.
In spite of my relatively large size, I found myself
in his massive arms. He had picked me up like a
small child and was carrying me toward one of
the stalls. Without so much as a break in his
stride, he raised his right leg and kicked in
the locked door, sending it smashing into the
marble wall with a loud report.
He put me down in front of the ornate throne
like toilet and then stepped back, all the while
keeping me in his  snake like stare. He paused,
as if pondering his next move, and then spoke in
a deep, almost inaudible voice.
"Take your clothes off"
Unsure as to whether I had heard him correctly,
I could only wait for him to repeat the command.
Perhaps taking my inaction as modesty, he spoke
again.
"I SAID take your clothes off"
Determined to retain my dignity for as long as
possible, I began by slowly unbuttoning my shirt.
He didn't seem to mind my leisurely pace.
Uncharacteristic of me as it was, I let it
fall to the floor. I removed my shoes and
socks and then hesitated again. He indicated
with a glance that the pants were to go next.
My hands trembled so badly that I was unable
to loosen my belt. He reached out and, with
alarming ease, broke it apart with a single
pull. As the two halves fell to the floor I
quickly opened my pants. It wasn't as if I would
be needing them much longer, but it was the
principle of the thing; kind of like why you
should never wear torn or dirty underwear. I
let them drop to the floor and stepped out of
them. At least, if they found me, I'd have
intact pants.
It was the moment of truth. I slipped my hands
inside the waistband and slowly drew them down.
I stood in front of him naked, vulnerable and
(to my surprise) very hard. A faint smile played
across his face and he started toward me.
As he placed his right hand on my shoulder, a
surge of power sent a jolt through my body that
caused me to step back from him. He gently
pulled me forward and moved his hand to my
waist. Placing his other hand on the back of
my neck, he coaxed my head upward with a slight
pressure so that my throat was fully exposed.
He ran his tongue across the exposed surface,
along the line of my jaw and down the other
side of my neck. I was aware of a slight stab
of pain, really no more than a pin prick, before
he stepped back contemplating his next move
He brought his hands to my chest and ran his
fingers through the mat of fine hair that covered
it. His touch was hot as he pressed his palms
against my hard nipples and began kneeding my
pecs. Bringing them to the center, he kept them
still for a moment, as if to feel the steady
pounding of my heart, and began raking his nails
lightly across my chest in ever widening circles.
A moan escaped me as he dragged them across my
nipples and I felt the stall tilt slightly.
He brought his hands back to my heart, this
time moving them downward as he dropped to one
knee. I could feel his tongue as it traced down
along the lines of my abdominal muscles and then
upward along my right side where he buried his
face in the pit of my arm. My nerve endings,
already at a point of overload, threatened to
explode as he lapped at the sweat. His hot hands
continued to stroke and excite the areas he had
already passed with his expert tongue.
Grasping my hips, he turned me around and spread my
legs wide. I bent forward, bracing myself on the rim
of the black marble toilet bowl. His tongue moved
lightly down the crack of my ass, pausing briefly
at the hole before continuing downward. I felt my
heart leap as he began licking and sucking the
underside of my aching balls. He moved his tongue
back and forth, along the sides and then back up
the crack. He spread my cheeks wider, his tongue
probing the outer edge of my butthole. The brush
of his moustache against the sensitive skin of my
butt was almost too much to bear as his tongue
pushed deep inside.
He stepped forward and ran his tongue up my spine.
I could feel his hard dick pressed against my ass
as he bent forward to gain access to the back of
my neck. A chill ran down my back as he wrapped
his arms around me,his hands resting on my heaving
chest. While pulling me to an upright position,
he brought them down across my stomach to my raging
hardon and stroked it lightly before turning me
to face him again. He dropped back to his knee
and bagan running his tongue along my shaft.
Aware that I could cum at any moment, he took
the full length of my dick into his mouth and
gave only a few strokes before pulling back.
He stood up again and, still maintaining his
hold on me, reached up and ran his fingers
lightly across my forehead. He bent forward
and whispered something inaudible in my right
ear. Once again the room lurched as a feeling of
renewed power washed over me. I stood motionless
for a minute as it made it's way through my arms
and legs.
I reached out with a stranger's arm and placed
my hand on the right side of his chest. I brought
the other up and, in a quick and violent motion,
tore the shirt from his body. I tossed it in the
corner of the stall and repeated the action with
his pants. Reaching down between his massive legs,
I grabbed his cock and balls and squeezed.
He closed his eyes and rolled his head back as I
jacked his hard dick to an even greater erection.
I pushed, shoved and manipulated his godlike body,
with much less gentleness than he had afforded me,
until he was facing the back of the stall. I shoved
his torso forward so violently that his forehead
glanced off the wall. He reached up and grabbed the
top edge of the walls as I kicked his legs apart.
Then, placing the head of my dick against his hole,
I grabbed his waist and, in one swift motion, plunged
it's full length deep inside him.
An unearthly howl escaped him that seemed to echo
off the cold walls into the depths of hell. As my
relentless assault continued, I bent forward and
bit deeply into his shoulder. I lapped at the blood
as it began to flow from the wound.He turned his
head, hair falling in his face, and said something
I was beyond hearing. All I could hear was the low
growl that issued from my throat as it drowned out
the grating of the wall brackets being torn from
their moorings.
Each hard and grinding thrust was met with an
equally violent push backward. He clenched his
cheeks tightly around my dick as it slammed forward,
as if trying to draw me deeper inside. We were like
two perfect jungle beasts locked in combat.
As my load churned it's way up from my balls,
he stood upright, grabbed his dick and began to
furiously jack himself off. As I shot my load deep
inside his ravaged ass, he threw his head back onto
my shoulder and released his load onto the black
marble wall in front of him. As my load continued
to gush forth, he turned his head to the side and,
incisors fully extended, bit deeply into my exposed neck.
My eyes flew open, and my pace slowed, as my still
hard dick pulled out and I found myself facing him
again. A small line of blood ran from the corner of
his mouth as he pulled me into his arms and brought
his lips to my throat and began to drink. My mind
was filled with a rush of memories as my life drained
down his throat. When my vision blurred, and the
world went red, all I could think of was whether
or not I was wearing clean underwear.
When I opened my eyes again, I was fully dressed and
sitting on the toilet. I stood and then, after waiting
for the dizziness to subside, opened the door. My foot
kicked half of a broken belt on the floor as I staggered
to the mirror. "Christ, I look like shit. I must have
dropped off for a second." I ran a comb through my
*hair and returned to my seat upstairs.
Jack looked at me as I sat down.
"Jesus, Mike. You look awful. You OK, buddy?"
"Yeah, just tired I guess. I'm alright."
I don't remember much about the film. I was fascinated
with the artery that pulsed in Jack's neck and watched
it intently until he noticed me staring at him.
Mistaking my hunger for lust (not entirely inaccurate),
he reached over and gave my hardening dick a furtive grope.
As the houselights came up at the end, we made our way up the
aisle into the foyer. Jack stopped to admire the  fountain at
the top of the stairway, then remembered the hardon in the
auditorium and hurried down the stairs.
As we walked up Broadway, he smiled in anticipation of one of
my world famous blowjobs. I was good at that.
"Ya know, Donk, I think this is going to be a memorable
evening. I think I'm going to like it a lot."
The temporary darkness that enveloped us when we
stepped out of the glow of the marquee gave me a
chance to briefly try out my new incisors before
pulling them in again. I smiled and answered in a
low, husky voice that made Jack giggle.
"I think so too,Jack. I think we'll have a LOT of fun".

********************** Moose 1452 *********************

To be continued