Sex Histories	Sex Histories Archive

The following is excerpted from Raunch, Boyd McDonald's 11th volume of true sex histories

New York-- Some of my most satisfactory fucking sessions took place at the Barracks, a bathhouse in Times Square. There was one guy I fell in love with at once-- a real stud, German type, tall, blond, blue-eyed, clean-shaven, who showered me with affection. He kissed me on the lips passionately, stuck his tongue into my mouth, massaged my nipples, and kept rubbing his hands over my body and stroking my ass cheeks.

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e had a good-sized cock so his penetration of me was a bit painful, but his gentle love-making enabled me to endure it. For the first time in my life I felt like a woman and realized more or less what a woman experiences while she is being fucked.

When he had finished he kissed me tenderly and repeatedly on my lips, cheeks, neck, and shoulders. Sweet loverman, he seemed really grateful.

I never particularly enjoyed fucking a guy either, although a few guys won't let me suck their cocks until I have fucked them awhile first.

The one guy I really did enjoy fucking was a man I picked up in the subway and not at the baths. He was a friendly guy, medium height, black hair, pleasant features, an open face, and a reassuring smile. He wore rough work clothes and I assumed he was on his way home after work. I started to give him a blow job in the subway toilet but he withdrew his cock from my mouth and invited me to his place.

He led me to his bedroom, where we helped each other take our clothes off. It was a warm afternoon early in June and the sun sent a cheerful glow into the room which glorified the man's body as though the sculptured figure of an athlete had suddenly come to life.

He picked up a tube of lubricant from a small table at the head of the bed, smeared some over his fingers and thrust them in his hole, then turned to me and started anointing my cock. The sensation was so tantalizing I almost shot my load then and there, but I summoned up the will power to hold off.

He moved to the foot board of the bed and, grasping the foot board, leaned over to give me access to his rear end. His every movement was a thing of beauty. He seemed to possess the innocence, grace, and power of an animal.

As I placed my hands on his flanks to drive my cock into him, he trembled a little. It was a glorious moment when I felt the warmth of his butt against my legs and groin.

The guy was a pro. He knew how to work his asshole muscles to give a fucker the thrill of a lifetime.

I wanted to get him in another position-- on his back with his legs in the air-- so I could bend over and kiss him on the mouth while I was cornholing him, but with the sensations I was experiencing I couldn't hold off that long. The pleasure became so acute that I shot a big load of cum into his ass in a spasm of delight.

He found a towel, wiped his hole with one end, and handed me the other so I could wipe my prick.

When I was dressed and ready to leave, he surprised me by asking, "Have you got any loot?"

I hadn't expected he would want money for his services, but I wasn't reluctant to pay up. A guy doesn't find such bliss every day. So I gave him all the cash I had on me, saving only enough to get something to eat for supper and to pay my bus fare home.

All that and a lot more would not have been too much for the best fuck and the best whore I ever had or hope to have.

Close encounter with paddy wagon

Once I almost got caught in a raid. The police used to make raids on the baths sporadically, usually on Saturday nights or on the eve of a holiday, especially during an election year.

One busy night at St. Mark's years ago, we heard sirens in the street outside. I thought it was a fire and went to one of the windows on an upper floor to see what was going on. I noticed a long van parked in front of the baths but I could see no fire trucks in the vicinity.

Scared shitless, I retreated hastily to my room, locked my door, put on most of my clothes, and lay down on the bed with the light out, waiting for the inevitable to happen. Instead of spending Christmas that year with friends and relatives, I would be in a jail cell. I could lose my job.

At long last I heard a key in the lock and saw a man at the door whom I took to be a police officer, although he was not in uniform. He turned on the light and looked sharply at me. But after a moment's scrutiny the guy closed the door and left.

What a relief. Apparently only the customers who had been caught in some homosexual act had been hauled off to jail. Along with me, perhaps a dozen escaped arrest. A few stayed on to suck and fuck the rest of the night, but I was in no mood for further sex so I got dressed as soon as I could and left.

Sleeping on the job

Once in a while I got a chance to play around with some of the attendants at the baths. Often they were young and attractive and of course they knew the score.

I had several attendants at St. Mark's. When they were off duty they would sleep in the dormitory along with the customers. Sometimes the attendants would sleep stark naked, sometimes with a towel wrapped around their waist.

Often they were so exhausted they didn't know, or didn't care, when I played with their dicks and started sucking on them.

One attendant I sucked fairly regularly-- a tall blond guy, good looking, well hung, good natured-- slept profoundly and rarely pushed me away. Only once or twice did he shoot a load. He was probably too tired to come.

There was another attendant there whom I sucked several times when he was asleep, but after that he began to want money. Five dollars was the usual fee in those days at that place. On a commercial basis he would come to my room in the baths and let me play around with him as I wished. He was generous with his cream and always delivered a load before he left.

Later on he rented a two-room apartment only a few blocks away from the baths and took me there when he was off duty. The price was higher, of course, but it was worth it. He would let me take his clothes off, play with his feet, kiss his body all over, drink his piss, suck his ass, and fuck him-- the works.

There was another attendant at St. Mark's who let me blow him. He was a rather burly guy with rather coarse features. He had a heavy-set, powerful body with a thick cock and hot nuts. He took me to a room that had just been vacated and hadn't been made up yet. He unbuttoned his pants, lay on the bed, and let me suck him off. He complimented me on my technique but I never had a chance for a repeat performance. I heard from other customers that he did this with most of the guys who came regularly to the baths.

There used to be a small steam bath in the basement of a fleabag hotel on West 31st Street near Penn Station. Just a bare room with lockers, double-decker beds, a steam room, and showers. Everything was very open and when an orgy began one of the attendants, a young, heavy-set Greek, would join in, opening his pants to let the guys suck him. I had him several times, always giving him a good tip before I left.

There was one attendant at the Sauna on West 58th Street that I had my eye on for some time. He was a short guy, compactly built, and sexy. Ex-Navy, maybe. Cock appeal at first sight. I saw him sometimes at other baths so I knew he was gay, but he always avoided me.

My opportunity came at long last, early one morning when a violent storm kept people off the streets. The all-night customers at the Sauna had left, so besides the man at the desk, the attendant, and myself, there was no one in the place.

I followed the attendant about, making causal conversations, and finally he sat down in a chair in the lounge. I drew up a seat beside him.

Talking about the storm, he told me that once he and his brother had spent most of the night stranded in their car because the rain and darkness prevented them from seeing more than a foot or so in front of them. All I had on was a towel wrapped around my waist and while listening to his story I reached under to play with my prick and balls until I got a noticeable hard on. When he finished his story I emphasized the fact that we were the only two guys left in the place and that there probably wouldn't be any other customers until the storm slackened. He said he had never before been alone with just one customer in the Sauna.

Perhaps he got bored and wanted some entertainment while waiting out the storm. I noticed that he gradually slouched in his chair, spreading his legs suggestively, while he rubbed his groin with one hand.

I rose to my feet and he looked up at me with a sly smile on his lips and a nod of his head which looked like an invitation.

At any rate, I took it that way and he didn't stop me as I knelt between his legs and reached up to unfasten his belt and open his fly. I pulled out his prick and my dream came true at least. His cock rose up immediately. It was a real beauty-- long and thick. The head of his prick was bright red and a drop of pre-cum juice glistened in his piss-hole.

I jerked him off while putting his peter in my mouth. Then I pulled his pants and shorts down to his knees so I could play with his balls and reach up under him and feel his ass and shit hole. He didn't object when I pulled his loafers off an nuzzled his feet against my cheeks and mouth and massaged them through his socks, enjoying the odor. I reached up under his shirt to tug at his nipples and rub his chest and belly. With all this stimulation, it didn't take long to shoot a load of rich, thick cream.

No one came into the baths during our sex play and for some time after we had finished we were still alone. I seldom have had such a good time. I gave the guy a large tip when I left.

Some men have told me that they get bored at the baths and that they prefer the excitement and danger of making conquests on the outside, but I always have a better time at the baths, probably because I don't make friends with strangers on the outside very easily. It takes a certain amount of tact and personal magnetism to persuade a guy on the outside to get into bed with you. The baths gave me experiences that I could never have had anywhere else. I must have had relations with thousands of men in them and it is hard to remember more than a very small percentage of them.

Some are unforgettable, like the guy from Washington, a magnificent specimen of powerful manhood who said that he liked the way his wife sucked him off but that he had never had a blow job as exciting as the one I gave him.

I also can't forget the three strapping truck drivers from Jersey who came into Everard's in the early morning hours and whom I sucked off one after the other. They seemed to be new to the gay scene-- perhaps this was their first time in an all-night steam bath. Perhaps they just wanted to try something different, just for kicks.

When I asked one of them if he liked to be rimmed he answered, "I don't give a shit what you do."

And then there was the guy who liked to sit on the edge of the bed while I knelt down at his feet to suck him off. After he had shot his load he used to caress my head and shoulders and tell me, "You're a natural-born cocksucker. You shouldn't have to do anything but suck men's pricks all day."

I agreed most heartily.

[Editor's note: I've met the writer of the above letter. He doesn't look or act homosexual. There are millions of homosexuals who don't. Thus the public, including homosexuals, have no idea how many homosexuals there are. There are millions more than anyone, including other homosexuals, suspect. And there are millions who, like the writer of the above letter, are officially classified as heterosexual because they are married. -- B. McD.]

Author Profile:  Boyd McDonald

Born in 1925 in South Dakota, Boyd McDonald entered Harvard as a high-school dropout after serving in the army in World War II. Jobs with Time, IBM, and several Wall Street firms preceded Boyd's career as a chronicler of gay sex. He was the founder and editor of Straight to Hell (alternatively the Manhattan Review of Cocksucking), and later published a number of anthologies of true sex histories. Boyd died in September 1993, two months after completing his final book, Scum.