Jim's Early Days
After ‘that fuck’, they lay quietly, recovering.
“Jim?” asked Hal softly.
“Huh, what?” was Jim’s laconic reply.
“Was it okay for you?”
“Course it was. I wasn’t complaining, was I? You’re never boring or predictable; in bed, I’ll say that for you. As usual, I learned something.”
“What?”
“A few new G-Points!”
After a pause, Hal said: “So now you know about me. How about you?”
Jim thought for a moment. “Nothing as exciting as your initiation. It’s really a lot to do with my father. My parents split up when I was very young and I have often been told that I was too young to remember him, although I was shocked when the Headmaster of my Prep School summoned me to his study, to let me know that Dad had been killed in a flying accident in California. He was is the US Air Force, you see.”
Hal said: “And despite that, you like living somewhere like Little Kansas?”
“I feel curiously at home there, yes. Perhaps it’s not surprising.”
“I remember him, although not a lot. I think Mum wanted me to forget him, but I didn’t really. One of the most exciting things I remember is a tall, handsome crew-cut young man bending, stretching and doing press-ups, stripped to his jockey shorts; what you would call his y-fronts, in the morning sunlight. He had a great body and kept himself very fit. His skin was healthy, rosy and for the most part hairless. I dimly recall his running as well; sometimes, on warm days, he wore only high-cut shorts, socks and trainers; pretty erotic, I’d say. I loved his legs, which were long and muscular.. And once or twice I saw him naked in the shower; I remember wondering what his testicles were for; his cock, obviously, was for pissing. But those other bits? I found out later, of course. Those memories may also explain why I like to wear a crew-cut.
“As I reached puberty, I started to notice things. Some young men, even when fully clad, had the power to arouse and embarrass me, without my understanding why. I would often be discourteous and stand-offish with them, because their presence upset me.
Hal laughed. Jim did not; he didn't even smile. He was in serious mode.
“’You weren’t very polite to Mr Scott,’ my mother would say. Of course I now know that this was because good-looking Mr Scott, or whoever, had caused me emotions and sensations that I couldn’t handle; That wasn’t his fault. There were older boys at school who had the same effect. I had some very odd dreams about the Captain of Cricket; especially after I saw him diving into the swimming pool wearing very small pale blue trunks. I still find powder-blue erotic.
“And not just real young men. Cowboys on TV could have that effect, too. In those days cowboy heroes in TV series or films were clean-shaven, hygenic, short-haired and had perfect, white teeth; even though they were supposed to be living in the Wild West in the nineteenth century. You didn’t often get to see them naked; shirtless, yes, and that was exciting enough. But one great day I saw Ty Hardin (Bronco Lane in other words) stripped to his jockey-shorts. The fact that jockey shorts were not invented until about 1935 and that in the 1870s he’d have worn nothing at all under his britches, or long-johns, did not register, or I didn’t know. He was in bed in a hotel; there was a knock on the door; the Sheriff wanted to see him. So he got out of bed, wearing only his jockey shorts, to unlock the door and let the Sheriff in. He quickly got back into bed and covered up, unfortunately, but by then he’d caused a storm in my trousers.
“And it was amazing where stimulation could be found. Some boys’ comics were intensely homoerotic, with muscular, lightly-clad superheroes. Even The Reader’s Digest carried occasional advertisements for fitness equipment with a photo of the result: a muscular young man in minimal posing-trunks. One of my best finds was when I was staying with a friend and his family. His elder brother was a medical student. I found his copy of Cunningham’s Anatomy. In the chapter on ‘Myology’ – the study of muscles – there were some phtos of a hunky naked man, very well-hung. Material for hours of fantasy and wanking. But I also read somewhere else that it was probably ‘just a phase’ that I was going through.
“In the event, it was not the Captain of Cricket who made me see the light, but another boy, closer to my age. We’ll call him ‘Lindbergh’. His father was Swedish, his mother was English and they lived abroad. But he was more happily situated than I, as he had a home of sorts near the school. His aunt lived nearby, so he could go to her for half-days and holidays. Sometimes he would invite me to join them for tea. But often the aunt, who was very active in voluntary work, would not be there. A generous tea was always provided, with a note ‘Help Yourselves!’, which we did. Lindberg was nice-looking in an austere Aryan way: fair hair, green eyes, very regular features, square jaw; he could have auditioned for a job with the films any day. He was of the kindest and gentlest people I had ever met. At least, he usually was.
“One day we got onto the subject of sex; something that we often discussed among ourselves, without knowing much about it. Or most of us did not. What we knew, or thought we knew, was gleaned from Biology Class and copies of Playboy, which would be eagerly studied until, inevitably, they got confiscated. Knowing that he would never betray my secrets, I told Lindbergh something about my screwed-up feelings. He laughed kindly when I mentioned the Captain of Cricket. He too had had impure thoughts about him. But then he became more serious. In fact, he was serious about most things:
’You need help,’ he said. ‘Maybe I could….’
“At that point I left the room for a moment; I had drunk a lot of tea and needed to piss. When I came back, Lindbergh was standing there with a cup of tea in his hand, stark naked. I noticed that he was very muscular – like most Swedes, he took his fitness seriously – and that he had an all-over tan, which was very attractive. He carefully put down the teacup and walked over to me. He hugged me and kissed me on both cheeks. ‘Follow me’, he said. So I did.
“Lindbergh led the way to his bedroom. He kissed me again and started to remove my clothes, beginning with my tie. ‘Okay?’ he asked. I nodded. Soon I was as naked as he. He put his arms round me again. ‘D’you understand what we’re going to do?’
‘You’ll have to show me,’ I said.
“He smiled and shook his head. ‘You’re too innocent for your own good. But, rest assured that this will be done in a loving spirit. I’m trying to help you make up your mind.’ Then he reached round and tapped on my asshole with his fingertip. ‘For instance, I’m going in there soon. Can you handle that?’
‘I’m not sure!’ I stammered.
‘Okay. There’s one way to find out.”
He made me bend over, steadying myself against the bedroom wall. He rimmed me; this was the first time in my life. It was mind-blowing. He daubed some gel on my manhole. Then he slowly eased his way in. Once he was inside, he wound his arms round me, quite tenderly and humped me gently.
‘Still okay? Can you take some more?’
I groaned. ‘Yep, give me the full works.’
He ploughed me thoroughly but pulled out before he could cum. ‘I’ve just thought of something that’ll make it more exciting. Let’s have a look in my playbox!’
He nipped over to a chest of drawers and came back with some equipment. Included among it was a pair of handcuffs, which he quickly slipped on me.
‘Now, my friend, let’s try something else.’
To cut a long story short, he got me in the missionary position, spread my legs and deep-fucked me. By this time I was gasping for breath. Finally, he rolled me on my side and fucked me from behind. By the time he’d finished, I was exhausted. But he was right; it was exciting and, to prove it, I went back for more! Lindbergh was surprisingly knowledgeable for a boy of his age – but then he was a liberated Swede – and he had no doubt read all sorts of books that my mother, or the school, would have deemed wildly unsuitable. I shall always recall him with gratitude.’
