The usual disclaimer applies. This is the 13 section of a gay story containing graphic sex and explicit language. If you are underage and/or are offended by such, Go Away. All rights reserved.
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After the birthday party at the Waldorf, the rest of the summer seemed uneventful...as a matter of fact, EVERYTHING else seemed uneventful. Being a student actor, it was taboo to do professional theatre. I had spent most of my life breaking rules, why should I stop now? I picked up a thirty-five cent copy of SHOW BIZ, and looked in the back for casting calls. I was keeping my promise to Ian...no more 'hustling'...just honest work, even if it meant minimum wage. I had joined the musician's union and had picked up quite a bit of fill-in work, primarily as audition pianist and/or pit pianist in several Broadway orchestras. Everywhere you looked, there were musicals. From 1959 through 1963, never had there been such seasons of hits..."Gypsy", "My Fair Lady", "Camelot", "Molly Brown", "Oliver", "Irma La Douce", "Bye Bye Birdie", "Mr. President", "No Strings", and of course, "Stop the World". Sometimes I had filled in as hat checker or concession attendant for just the chance of seeing these gems, for free. This way, I could work at Lincoln Center or Carnegie Hall and see people I had only read or dreamt about seeing.
I saw where some off-Broadway company was casting a revival of Irwin Shaw's "Bury The Dead". The only role uncast was that of one of the "dead soldiers", whose wives were begging them to lie down and go to their graves. The role had only seven lines, but it was a good credit for your resume. I think six of my seven lines were, "Yes". However, you were on stage for the entire play, and still, it was a good chance to be seen, This only lasted four weeks and led to a dramatic reading of George B. Shaw's "Don Juan In Hell." I felt I was best suited to play "Don Juan", but the director wanted me to try my stab at a character role and play, "the Devil". I loved it. The reviews were quite encouraging. I was ready to assume a stage name and get an Equity card...very illegal at my acting academy. With my new contract and new "card", I won the role of the male lead in a revival of "Picnic". I knew this play backwards and forwards. Then the pit pianist of "Oliver" had left the show and I was offered the job. The score is so easy,,,mostly written in the key of "C". I took the job, but soon got tired of the screaming kids singing, "Food, Glorious, Food". This was no challenge to me so, I left after two weeks. I was enjoying acting more than I had ever liked playing the piano. So I made a decision to take the little $80.00 per week acting jobs rather than the $200.00+ pit jobs.
I filled my evenings going to Birdland and listening to the likes of Ella, or the Metropole, which rotated bands every week...from Lionel Hampton to Maynard Ferguson to Gene Krupa. At the Village Vanguard, I could sit by one of my idols, Bill Evans, or the the Hotel Manhattan, Cy Walter, and learn new keyboard techniques. This was really a hey-day in New York. It has never been the same since. Senior year at school was to start the middle of October, so I called Jeff's parents, back home to see if everything was copacetic with my tuition. When Jeff's mother answered the phone, there was a nervous tremor in her tone which alarmed me.
"Mark," she began, "Don't worry about school or tuition, we've taken care of that...but I have a bit of bad news,,,and you're not going to believe it."
I braced my self.
"Last week," she continued, "Miss Greene, yours and Jeff's piano teacher was crossing the street at the conservatory...and was hit by a car. She died instantly...but Mark...that's not the bizarre part...it was on September 29th...the two year anniversary of Jeff's death and the one year anniversary of Rich's...all three on the same date... September 29th...what is there about that date, Mark?"
I was stunned...I had forgotten my vow to always spend that date in bed...and once again I would be haunted by circumstances. If you had put this coincidence in a movie script or book plot, no one would believe it...but here it was...truth...not fiction.
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School started and we were thrust into plays and rehearsals of plays. I was cast as in the male lead of "Seven Year Itch", with my favorite director in the school. This was a dream role for comedy. I was so enthused, I took the script home and memorized the whole role over night, The girl playing, "the girl upstairs" was one of the best actresses, I had seen. She is still big in the movies, today, only my friendship for her, keeps me from naming her. We were in the middle of rehearsal, in November, and having a blast. We were doing the scene where we both fell off the piano bench, and were sitting in the floor, laughing hysterically. We hadn't seen one of the other teachers come in and whisper something to our director. When we looked up, Clark, our director, was sitting there emotionless with a look of shock on his face I had never seen before. At first I thought we had carried the scene too far, Then I realized, it was something more than this.
"Guys", Clark said, clearing his throat, "I was just told that President Kennedy was shot and killed in Texas."
An bomb of quiet exploded.
"I think we should stop today...and go home...I'll see you guys on Monday."
How many more people whom I loved and admired would I lose in my lifetime. I had just met the President and was host at his birthday party in June. No one in the entire school talked or looked at each other. We exited in total solemnity, each going his own way. As I walked east toward Fifth Avenue, I could hear the tolling of St. Patty's Cathedral's bell. It was drawing me near. When I arrived, thousands of New Yorkers, those that couldn't get inside the church, were on their knees in the street and on the sidewalks, praying, crossing themselves, saying rosaries, The sight of this sent chills through my body.
I went home and turned on the little Westinghouse black and white TV and sat there, all through the night and the next day...not even bothering to eat. On the second night, there was a knock at my door. It was Bob, a classmate.
"Mark,...Tom and Lou are outside in the Clark's car. We are going to drive down to Washington and file by the bier, if you want to come with us..."
"Let me get a warm jacket and a change of underwear."
The drive down was treacherous. The roads were crowded. It had snowed. It was about 16 degrees and there was ice on the highway. It didn't matter to us, we had to go pay our respects. Hardly a word was spoken for the entire 250 miles. When we stopped for gas...again, no one ate...they had a cup of coffee and I had a hot Pepsi. There's no use describing how we felt as we stood in line waiting our turn for a 60 second glance at the flag draped coffin in the Rotunda. I can still recall those feelings to this day.
By Monday, the shock an initial mourning was over at school as we tried to resume rehearsals in our different plays. I spoke briefly to Rick about our "trip". He still wasn't too friendly since he had called me "queer" that afternoon when I told him I was gay. He would talk to me as long as we were in the company of other people. Word among the "curious" had spread and I had a "secretive" reputation for helping guys to "come out". This amused me when I heard it. Among the "curious" was cute little dark haired, blue eyed, 19 year old, named, Alan. He wanted to become one of the gang and asked if he could come to Sunday's "Judy Garland" party...the more the merrier!!
He didn't watch TV. He kept looking at all the guys in the room, wondering who was and who wasn't...and who was doing whom...and did they really do the things the had heard "gay" people do?? He was watching them and I was watching him out of the corner of my eye, trying not to let on or smile. I sat there wondering if he would have to courage to stay after all the crowd had gone...also, wondering just how "curious" he was and where the night would lead. Shit, this virgin business was getting to be a habit.
My curiosity was aroused by what Alan would say and how he would get around to the "subject". His middle name certainly wasn't "subtlety". "Hey, Mark, listen, my mom doesn't like me riding the subways late at night, so I told her that I would probably be spending the night at your apartment, tonight...hope you don't mind."
"Huh?...er...sure...Alan...you can stay...I can make the couch up for you, if that's OK."
"Sure, The couch is fine...you don't know how much I appreciate this."
As the group left, Tom and Lou gave me a funny look and smile. Tom leaned over and whispered to me, "Teaching a class, tonight, Mark?"
I laughed as I jokingly pushed him out the door, "Get the fuck out of here, will you?"
"Have fun...hope he learns as well as Lou and I did...".
"Scram."
I closed the door and there stood Alan, looking like a lamb headed for the slaughter.
"Let me help you wash dishes and straighten up your apartment."
"Be my guest."
"I brought a change of clothes, my toothbrush and my razor, just in case I was lucky enough to get to spend the night."
"Just like the boy scouts, always prepared, huh?"
"Well, not always...Oh, Mark, after we finish with the apartment, do you think you'll have enough water for me to shower?"
This was getting too much like a grade "B" movie with the dialogue and action.
"No, just to be sure...I'll let you shower first, and then we'll see if there's enough hot water to do the dishes...OK?"
"OK."
"Let me get you a towel and a washcloth." I headed toward a small cabinet, waiting for the next forthcoming question. I didn't have to wait long...I hadn't got halfway across the room, before...
"Mark, had you planned on showering tonight, too?"
"I usually shower on Sunday nights, so I'll be fresh for school on Monday."
"You wanna shower with me and save on the hot water?"
God, how straight forward could he be? Had he read some script somewhere from some bad gay movie??
Well, since this was HIS night, I might as well go along with it and what wonders would occur. The bathroom was right off the kitchenette, and the goddamned bathroom lightbulb had burned out earlier this evening, so you had to leave the door ajar and let he light that illuminated over the stove, light the bathroom.
"Oh, Alan, the bathroom light burned out, so leave the door open, so that you can see and not fall and break your neck."
"You didn't answer me...do you want to shower with me?"
"Yeah, you go ahead and get started and I'll start making up your bed on the sofa."
I went over to the hi-if and put on the Second Barbra Streisand Album...might as well initiate him good and properly. All the while, I kept questioning myself if I could go through with this...or if I SHOULD go through with this. Oh well, I had to admit I was a little horny...I had had nothing but solo sex for about two months...and I could pretend this was just another "trick" in the night.
I heard the showering going. Steam was coming out of the bathroom doorway, as I began undressing in the kitchen. I was down to my briefs when I yelled..."Alan...can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Are you gay?"
"I don't know...that's why I came over here...to find out."
"You came to MY apartment to find out if YOU'RE gay?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Someone at school said that if you were ever in doubt about your sexuality to go see Mark...that that's the only way you could be certain."
My reputation superceded me...I stepped out of my Jockeys and pulled back the shower curtain to keep the water from spraying on the floor. The crack of light from the kitchen spilled across the inside of the shower to let me get a glimpse of my next "victim" and his ever so eager and aroused penis. This guy was prepared in every way. He was destined to win a merit badge.
"OK, pal, what do you want me to teach you?"
"Nothing yet, I just want to get to know you...I want to get to know your body...do you mind if I explore you with my hands...?"
In this semi-dark room, feeling was about the only way he could discover my body. You certainly couldn't see much.
"Here, get wet and let me soap you, all over."
I complied and stepped around him to get under the hot spray and saturate myself on both sides. He squished the bar of soap in his hands and placed both of them on my back and began making circular motions. The circles got bigger as he reached to lather my ass cheeks. On about the fourth sweep, he managed to pry them apart with one hand and rubbed my rectal opening. He squatted on his knees to begin the soaping of the back of my legs.
"Alan, have you ever done this before?"
"No. I've never touched another guy in my life...but I've lain in bed at night and surely thought about it enough, though,"
"Well, so far, you're doing a great job."
"Thanks. turnaround." he said all in one breath.
I turned around in tub, in the darkness, hoping not to knock him down with my now, fully erect cock...He continued with the washing as if I were a vehicle in a carwash...very methodical. He soaped the front of my legs and thighs, pushing my legs apart, slightly, when he reached the top, so that he could lather where I was joined, the underneath of my scrotum, my balls, and a couple of quick slippery strokes up and down my shaft. He didn't stop...the hastily went to give my pubic hair a shampoo...then, a finger swab in my navel...circular motions again to reach both my pecs at the same time in opposite directions...two swift hands down my arms to my hands...back to my shoulders, my neck...the sides of my head, where he grabbed both ears, and pulled my face toward his. Holding on to my ears, he twisted his head a bit and planted his lips on mine. He moaned a little with a "Mmmm...Mmmm.". and I "Mmmm... Mmmm.", right back.
This guy was like a hungry hyena, just waiting to pounce. The water was pounding on the back of my neck and overflowing on my shoulders, running down the front of my torso, rinsing the sudsy mass he had painted me with.
"I wanna know what it feels like to suck a dick", was the last thing he said before dropping to his knees to begin tearing at his prey, He took me in his mouth with one gulp and was not sucking me but rather, masturbating me with his stiffened "O" he had formed with his lips. Tip to base in a desperate motion. After about the tenth lunge, he looked up at me and asked, "How am I doing?"
"Fine, but slow down a little, relax your mouth, and use your tongue."
He was fine at taking direction. I could feel his jaw relax and he began to savor me, more.
"That's it,,,That's better."
That was the encouragement he was seeking. He slowed his pacing and began long strokes, taking me solidly down his throat. I let him continue for three or four minutes. Then I said, "You've got the hang of it, but let me show you how to do it with a bit more refinement."
"Go ahead, I'm here to learn."
I stood him up and changed places with him. This was to be one of my best performances. I didn't want to slip up. I wanted him to know if this is what he wanted, it had to be right and perfect, so that he would be glad he had been bold enough to make the biggest decision of his life. I tried to remember all the "first times" I had participated in, but Alan was so eager and ready to make a stand, that this lifestyle was for him. I knew that this was something we didn't choose, but something we chose to reveal and discover about ourselves.
I began a gentle kissing and little tongue licking, trying to show him the vast difference of having sex and making love. I would make love to his swollen shaft. The hot water from the showerhead was beginning to show signs of cooling off to a tepid temperature, and then to cool. The combination of water change and my lovemaking, caused his body to chill. His entire skin was covered with goosebumps, as I kept on with my plight, I french kissed his balls, the base of his shaft, the two inches below his scrotum and his ass opening, which I began to tongue-fuck. I replaced my tongue with my index finger and inserted it, probing for the magical prostate spot. He had grabbed onto the shower rod to steady himself in sheer delight and ecstasy. He wanted to "hold back", but I knew this was impossible, he was too close to a climax and I took full advantage of it, opening my mouth for his spurting deposit. He shot with about 10 gusts...each one larger than the one before, and each eminent moan and "Oh", topping themselves.
With my mouth full of semen, I returned to his mouth and let him taste the sweetness he had just filled me with. He swallowed more of his juice than I did.
"Was that what you had in mind," I asked.
"More than I had ever dreamed...Mark, would you take me to your bed and let me know what it feels like to be fucked?"
"No, I will take you to my bed and let you know how it feels to be made love to...There is a big difference."
I grabbed two towels, gave him one, and we began drying off each other. Then when we were dry enough not to get the sheets wet, I took his hand and led him out of the dark bathroom, through the kitchenette, the living room and into my small bedroom. I laid him on the bed and lowered my entire body on top of his, covering every part possible. He was hard again...I had never gone down. I pinned his arms against the pillow, kissing him, and grinding my crotch into his, all in one movement. We kissed, exploring each other's oral cavities, and began making love. I used my hot breath to take a tour down his chest, his pectorals, his armpits, his navel, his pubes, his genitals, lifting his legs in the air and burying my face between his ass cheeks. I inserted my tongue, as I heard him gasp. I reached under my bed for the trusty old can of Albolene and covered my cockhead with a big dollop of the greaseless lubricant.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes."
"Then, take a deep breath, and relax."
His legs became rigid, but I began a finger massage, first, covered in the make-up remover. As I continued my finger fuck, he relaxed and I spread his legs wide enough to get into position. I placed just the tip at his rosebud...I heard no audible responses to stop me, so I began the slowest insertion of my life. I didn't stop. I just keep the persistent forward moving going until I was all the way in.
"Everything, OK?"
"Mark, it feels wonderful."
I started an in and out movement not covering more than half an inch...then more...and more...until I was shoving him with strokes about four inched deep. It was time for another kiss to combine emotion with physicality. These were still days when we didn't worry about communicable diseases, so I didn't bother with a condum. I was satisfied I was scouting uncharted territory. I made love to him for almost an hour...letting him assume many and various positions...on his back, his side, his stomach, and on his knees. With each change of events, he became, more and more willing and submissive until I thought it was time for the "lesson" to end. I gave one last thrust and gave him ounce for ounce all that I had until I collapsed in exhaustion onto his sweaty back. The room was cold from where the radiators had turned off for the night, as was the custom in older New York apartments, but our energies had given the illusion we were in a steam bath, radiating love heat. We lay, I on top of him, as the rhythm of our bodies decreased to a normal breathing tempo.
"Thank you, Mark,,,".
"No, thank YOU,,,,".
A long pause.
"Mark...have you ever been in love?"
"Yes...but not for a long time."
Pause.
"Mark,...I think I love you..."
"No, Alan, you don't love me...but one day you will find that someone to love...and when you do...you will be ready."
We slept.
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Not all the episodes in New York were this hot and heavy...There was one episode, not funny at the time, that makes me laugh out loud, even now...
I remember working at the Broadhurst Theatre, one night...There was this guy I had seen, working there, that I was instantly attracted to. He was an aspiring actor with the looks that could make you just sit in awe. He was that beautiful...About 23 years old...tall, muscular. built like an Adonis...the kind of photogenic charisma, that you could put a poster of him on your bedroom ceiling and go to sleep at night, sexually satisfied, just by looking at him without trying to "get off",
I didn't know how, when, or where. but I knew I would someday, go to bed with him, so I was ready, willing, and able whenever this wonder would eventually take place. We knew each other from our jobs.
One early evening, I was walking down Broadway and we ran into each other. He ran to me excitedly, "Mark, Carroll is sick tonight, and McNair, her understudy, is going on for her. This is one talent, you've GOT to hear....Come by the theatre about 8:30 and I'll sneak you in." (All this and heaven too).
The performance lived up to expectation. To thank him, I thought it only polite of a southern gentleman to ask him to go out for a bite after the show. We went down to my favorite little bar and restaurant on 44th, east of Broadway. They had the greatest little jukebox, there. I had spent many dimes and quarters listening to Ella Fitzgerald's recording of "A Beautiful Friendship". The lighting was low and the crowd, rather sparse, after midnight...so this could be the place and the time for my long "thought about" fantasy to come true. I could not keep my eyes off his pools of blue...I could love him, propose to him and take him home to momma, all in the same night. He was simply breathtaking.
He had two Scotch and waters...I had two Cokes with a twist. He had eaten Italian food earlier and had a faint odor of garlic on his breath. The combination of garlic and Scotch aromas, had always worked as an aphrodisiac on me. After the second drink, he became more mellow and things began to happen. Underneath the booth we were sharing, across from each other, he stretched his leg forward and began rubbing his calf muscle with mine. His overture was the signal that he was turned on...and I knew goddamned well, that I was. Then he reached his hand across the top of the table, grabbed mine, and held it.
"Mark, would you like to have sex with me...tonight?"
"I was about to ask you the same thing."
"I live in Brooklyn. Is your place more convenient and available?"
"Let's flag down a cab."
We had begun to undress in the taxi as we headed up Central Park West. Oh I had forgotten to mention that Ian had gone to London, and let me move in his apartment temporarily.
We all but raced up the stairs, laughing giggling like two school girls going to a slumber party. By the time we reached the door, he had already taken my shirt off, twirling it in the air like a lasso. We burst into the darken living room after slamming the door, and in two minutes we were both naked and made a dive for the queen size bed. We kissed, running hands over each other in a sped-up foreplay. We were BOTH excited,,,in every way.
I made an effort to go down on him but he stopped me..."After seeing the size of that thing of yours, I want it up my ass. I want you to fuck me Mark!!"
Who was I to say, "NO"?
He reared up on his hands and knees assuming a doggie position, while I reached for the Albolene.
"No, no, none of that stuff, I want you to fuck me with spit?"
What a time to be dry in the mouth...come on, salivary glands, do your stuff!!
He was rocking his ass toward me with an uncontrollable invitation....Nervously, I was able to spit enough just to lubricate my glans. I was about to enter his threshold when he made a sudden backward move, to get me to enter him quickly. I was there about ten seconds when Mt. Vesuvius began to rumble...It was he...the Italian meal was about to resurface in a different form, as he opened up and began to shit all over me, the bed, the clean sheets, the carpet...everywhere. I had never seen such a bad case of diarrhea. I was drenched and saturated, all over. I felt as Carrie would feel, years from now when Stephen King would right about her and the pigs' blood at her prom.
In all my nights of hustling and wild lovemaking, nothing like this had ever happened before...and now that it had,,,what do you say? Nothing...I would let HIM say it. My second thought was...was this a fetish or some wild ritual I had never experienced before?
He screamed, "OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!...Mark, I am so sorry...I am so fucking embarrassed."
"It's OK", I tried to reassure him..."No damage done,,,let's get up and go get in the shower..."
"NO, NO, NO, I can't even look at you."
He jumped out of bed grabbed his clothes, and began dressing without so much as bothering to clean himself. No matter how I tried to make things all right, he had one goal...to get out of there as soon as possible. He had his pants and shoes on, holding on to the rest in a heap as he ran out the door. I looked at the condition of the room and slowly started stripping the soiled linens off the bed. An hour later, when things looked back to normal...I opened a Coke and sat down on the bed and began to laugh and laugh and laugh, When I stopped, I lay down and began comtemplating the life of a celibacy by joining a monastery...I laughed again.
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A more important episode occurred which changed my life 180 degrees and almost 360....
It was February. Cold as hell. There was about nine inches of snow on the streets of New York and more expected. A few of the "brave" had gone to school on that Friday. With the onslaught of another blizzard on the way, classes were cut short. Some of the kids who commuted from Jersey, would not be able to make it home due to the weather conditions, So it was asked of us, whom had apartments in the city, if we had extra beds and could extend invitations to our classmates in need. I had the sofa in the living room, which I immediately offered. I only had one taker...Sandy...a beautiful blonde, actor, singer, dancer,,,ACTRESS!! Fuck! Just my luck...with all the hunks in the school, I was stuck with a hunkette.
Sandy and I took a subway and walked the rest of the way to my apartment. It was almost 6:00PM by the time we arrived. Guess what? There was no fucking heat in my apartment. I warmed some soup for us, as I had not yet done my weekend shopping. We kept on our winter coats through dinner. We watched TV. By 9:00PM, you could see your breath when you exhaled. It was now time to plan for survival. In all my life, I had never been alone with a member of the opposite sex. It was never necessary for any desire, will, or reason. It would be all right if we slept together...I had never been turned on by any girl and I was too gay to change now, I took every blanket, sheet, pillow, even my towels and piled them high to ward off the below freezing cold. It would be warmer if we went to bed. I didn't know if Sandy knew of my being homosexual, but this didn't matter in our life or death situation.
"I got snowed in at a ski lodge one evening and we had no heat, just like now," she said. "and the clerk at the lodge told me and my girlfriend, it we took our clothes off our body heat would keep up the warmest...Wanna try it?"
Thinking I would be dead from the cold in the morning, I stripped to my Jockeys and she, to her panties and bra. We got into bed and she scooted her back close to my front in a spoon position. The bed was shaking as we shivered in unison,,,but slowly, our bodies began to warm by flesh touching flesh. I had my arm over her. Where was Rock Hudson when you needed him?
"Is it my imagination or are we getting warmer?" I managed to say without my teeth chattering.
"The body heat is working."
Maybe we could go to sleep and not die, tonight. The idea of my being found dead, frozen stiff, almost naked, embracing a woman was NOT the way I wanted my legacy remembered.
And then, to my dismay, this blonde snow bunny, put her hand around to her back and started touching me between my legs. Oh no, this was definitely NOT going to happen. To keep from making a scene, I said nothing and tried not to notice. Of one thing I was sure about my sexuality...no female could ever get me hard...so I thought I would let her play her game and see the futility of her action. She would eventually quit out of frustration, I thought.
Since I hadn't made a move to stop her, she thought this was an acceptance by me to let her delve further. She grabbed my cock, still, protected by my briefs, and began to squeeze it, The more she tried, the "softer" I became. I knew she was puzzled. Finally she with a sudden thrust, she rammed her hand beneath my waistband and got a firm lock on my cock. She massaged my balls, tried to pull on my flaccid shaft, to get a rouse out of me...it was time she wanted an explanation.
"What's the matter, Mark?...Don't you like this?...Doesn't it feel good?"
"Oh yeah, it feels good all right...but I'm afraid you're wasting your time and effort."
"Are you impotent?"
"Sorta...you see I like guys...when they do that to me, I go get excited...but this, tonight, just ain't gonna happen." I thought with my declaration that would solve my dilemma.,,but I was wrong...she would let go of her grasp.
"You've never has sex with a girl?"
"Nope...and never tried it and never will...Sorry, Sandy."
She continued to pry..."No girl has ever got you excited?"
"Nope...I don't think it's possible."
"Wanna make a bet I can get you excited."
"I'll take any bet you offer, but you're wasting your money. You will lose."
"Would you let me, at least, try?"
"Be my guest...but there's no use."
She moved like a pro...plowing under the covers, snatching down my briefs and planting her mouth on my cold shrunken penis...and suddenly, like Lazarus from the dead, it moved...I was beginning to get hard. I lay there like a virgin on her wedding night. I held my breath and tried to clear my mind and think of other thoughts...My thoughts were always filled with the men I hadn't had yet,,,but this was the WRONG thing to think about, now. As the array of fantasy man crossed it my psyche, the harder, I became...this was unfair,,,I was in trouble...deep trouble. She knew she had me where she wanted me. When I was fully erect, she moved her body upward, so quickly, I was in her cunt before I knew it, She pumped one time and I came inside her, instantly,
"Oh God, I'm so sorry.."
"I'm not," she smiled, "You lose."
"Hadn't you better go douche or something?"
"I'm not about to set one foot on that icy floor...and besides, don't worry, I just finished my period and this is the safest time to have unprotected sex."
What happened the rest of the night isn't important, but the idea of becoming a monk was becoming more and more a possibility. I had to give up sex. FINAL!
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It was time for graduation. Most of the class was going to meet at Roseland and have an old fashioned prom. I went stag. At one point, one of my female directors asked me if I would waltz with her, so like Marge and Gower, we took to the floor, with graceful glides and sweeps of grandeur, we floated around the dance floor. On our third chorus of "Around The World", we accidentally bumped into a couple. It was another director and Sandy. After the four of us collided. I apologized and Sandy looked me in the eyes and ran out of the room, as if Cinderella had just heard the first chime of midnight. Thinking I might have hurt her, I ran after her and she had exited to the outside balcony, overlooking the busy nighttime New York traffic.
As I approached her, I said, "I'm sorry...I hope I didn't hurt you."
She burst into tears..."Mark, I got a job this afternoon,,,I've got an eighteen month bus-truck tour of 'My Fair Lady'...but I can't take it."
"Why, for God's sake?"
"Mark, I'm pregnant."
"Shit, sorry to hear that...When does the tour start?"
"We go into rehearsals in August and I'll be almost in my sixth month."
"Does the father know?"
"Not yet, but I'm about to tell him...Mark, you're the father?"
"What???...Oh, no...no way...how can you be sure?"
"You're the only guy I had sex with for three months. It has to be yours."
"But we didn't fuck!!!"
"I know, but you came...You came, and I'm pregnant."
I felt a sudden urge to jump off the balcony and land in the middle of 50th Street.
And like a despicable rat, I exclaimed, "Oh no, you're not blaming this on me!!"
In an automatic response she turned and slapped me hard across the cheek. "You bastard...you goddamned, cocksucking, bastard,"
She ran back into the ballroom, down the stairs, flagged a cab and headed toward Jersey.
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To shorten the chain of events. I called her on Monday and she agreed to meet me to discuss the matter at hand. In those days, there were no clinics...no legal abortions...just the chance of an unclean surgical procedure that one could get in west Harlem for a hundred bucks. I still had enough southern upbringing to offer to do the honorable thing, I would marry her, give them baby a name, and then we could put it up for adoption. I had already made plans for the summer. There was a new musical opening in the fall and I was to play pit piano nights and conduct the Broadway orchestra for the two matinees, We scouted for an illegal clinic. Finally, giving up, we met at City Hall on July 19th, got a license and were married by a notary public.
I had stopped myself, many times to curse "that cold night". How stupid could I have been? I fucked one girl, one night, lasting one stroke and got trapped for life. No wonder the world was turning gay. After the ceremony, which we had told NO ONE about, she went home to Jersey and I, back to my apartment. We still didn't know what to do for the future. Without my knowledge, Sandy had gone ahead and signed with the "Fair Lady" tour. I didn't have any idea as to what she was thinking. Two days later, I called her and she told me she was starting rehearsals in Brooklyn.
"What about the baby?"
"Don't worry Mark, I know how to take care of that problem." she said, trying to reassure me.
A week passed. I called her several times and no one answered. Then on the following Friday night, someone knocked on my door. It was a handsome guy, in his thirties. I opened the door and he asked, "Are you Mark?"
I nodded.
"My name is Brad. I think you have a friend named Sandy. May I come in?"
"Sure, I've tried to call her all week and got no answer...Is she all right?"
"No, Mark, I'm afraid Sandy is dead."
"What?". I sank to the couch..."How? Why? What happened?"
"It was an accident...the police ruled out suicide, but it looks like she did it accidentally, on purpose...She was rehearsing in Brooklyn and told one of the other dancers she was going to fall down a flight of stairs in an effort to abort her baby...You knew she was pregnant?"
Again, I nodded.
"She must have tried to hard...when she fell, she broke her neck. The baby was still-born. It was a boy."
I began to cry, whimpering, at first, but then I lost control and went to pieces. Brad came over and embraced me, giving me the "shoulder" I needed. How many more times would my world come to an end? I had gone through Jeff and Rich's deaths...but this time...this was different. Newley and Bricusse's "What kind of fool am I, who never fell in love. It seems that I'm the only one that I have been thinking of,,," was racing through my mind, This song would haunt me throughout my life.
Brad held me like a long-lost friend...a father...a lover, not knowing at the time he would soon become all three.
Brad's and my courtship, our romance, our sex is another story, but over the years, he filled every hole and gap that had been missing my whole life. When I became seriously ill, six months later, with all expectation of dying...Brad was there. When I gave up hope and wanted to return to my southern home to die there...Brad came with me, to be by my side. I didn't die as you know by now and was explained in an earlier segment.
We got a house, a car, a dog, jobs, and a new life...together. We were bonded as two gay men could ever be...forever...until the day, I heard that Lance was home on leave from the army and I decided to call him...
That was where this story started...and this is where this story ends. I mean "that was then, but this...?"
Someday, I'll write the rest of it.....
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All rights reserved. Copyright by Ritch Christopher, November 2000.