Sex Histories	Sex Histories Archive

I was delighted to walk into Gay Treasures and see a new chapbook on the stand-- Raunch. This seems to be the first book from you in several years. I was also pleased to discover that some of my own writing was in it.

When I was about 35 or 36, I sold all of my possessions and moved to Arizona for three months before returning to New York with my tail between my legs because I couldn't support myself on $5 an hour, the prevailing wage out there. While I was there, I had no sexual contact with anyone, although I vigorously pursued the visiting son of an elderly neighbor in my apartment complex. When I got back to New York, things picked up considerably.

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On Thanksgiving day in 1987, about two months after I arrived back, I was taking the D train from Kings Highway in Brooklyn, where I had had Thanksgiving dinner with a friend. I sat down across from a sexy-looking Italian man who looked to be about 30. He was dressed in tight jeans and a black leather jacket and had a decent bulge in his pants. His hair was dark and thinning on top, although that didn't in any way detract from his youthful sexiness; and he had a ponytail in back. The ponytail for me was the clincher. It was the new style being worn by attractive young men, and to me it spelled S-E-L-F C-O-N-F-I-D-E-N-C-E. I have always been attracted to men who had the nerve and narcissism to show themselves off.

Much to my surprise, he cruised me with his eyes rather aggressively. I say "surprise" because I did not consider myself to be in his league in attractiveness. I had (and have) a fairly youthful face for my age but I was much balder than he was and somewhat overweight.

When the train pulled into 14th Street, he got off and I followed. He stopped at the bottom of a stairway and turned as I approached. He had a slight scowl on his face, which made me nervous.

I said "hi" and he grudgingly said "hi" back.

I decided to get right to the point and asked, "So what are you into?"

He looked at me piercingly and said, "What are you into?"

"I like to suck " I said.

To which he said, "I like to get sucked."

At that point he pulled a business card out of his wallet and told me to call him the following morning.

Before we parted, I asked him what his dick was like.

The scowl returned to his face and he said, "Thick." Then he added, "and long."

And then he walked up the stairs.

Well, I think I was hooked on him that very moment.

When I called Nick the following morning, he was much sweeter than before. He invited me over to his place that evening, which made me glad that he wasn't going to make me wait.

When I walked into his apartment, he was wearing a T-shirt and sweat pants with nothing underneath. Again his behavior was a mixture of contempt and friendliness, an exciting combination. He stood in front of me in the living room with a challenging look on his face. I reached out and groped the bulge in his sweats and he quickly got hard. I fumbled around a bit and pulled his dick out. It certainly was a thick, beautiful thing, though not as long as I expected. I judged it to be about 7". It was cut and straight and thickest in the portion of the shaft below the head. The head was nicely shaped also.

I knelt down and started to suck him. After a while, he indicated that we should go to the bedroom. Unlike with other guys with whom I generally dictate the action (being the experienced cocksucker that I am), Nick had full control of the session. He put me in the position he wanted me in and determined the speed and rhythm at which I took his cock. I had to open my mouth wide to take it. It didn't take him long to drop his load.

That started a short, intense (for me) relationship that lasted only a half-dozen dates or so. It didn't help that I wouldn't let him fuck me. I never felt that I could trust him to be gentle inside me and I was afraid of the pain from his thick dick. I regret that now, having had much larger dicks in me since that time Sucking him was a total turn-on. He was very controlling in bed, in a masculine way. Part of me didn't like that-- being a controlling person myself-- but part of me was excited.

He would take my head in his hands and fuck my face in a way that increased my hunger ten-fold. He wouldn't just ram it in; rather, he would play with me. He would fuck my mouth for a while and then withdraw, holding his dick at my lips but not letting me have it. Then he would shove it in again and, then again, withdraw. By the time he came I would be moaning in pleasure and anticipation, something I rarely do when sucking.

Nick had a combination of characteristics which was enormously appealing. He was both rough and gentle, boyish and manly. Unfortunately, I fell in love with him. To Nick I was just one of a long parade of boyfriends passing through his life, none of whom he really cared for. If I hadn't been so lonely, I would have seen that and spared myself the broken heart.

I had a couple dates with a man I found incredibly exciting, named Ray. He was a short, stocky (but not fat) black man from the Caribbean. I met him in a back room where I sucked him. I then struck up a conversation with him and took him to a diner to eat. I could see the entire time were eating that he felt uneasy-- he was the kind of person who likes to leave his back room tricks in the back room. But he tolerated my aggressive courting, at least for a little while.

That first evening in the back room, Ray looked nervous and I couldn't tell if he was interested in me or not. When the moment was right I approached him and, happily, he didn't push me away. He pulled his dick through the fly of his pants and I got to suck on it only a little while before he pulled it away and unloaded on the wall. His dick was very thick and decently long and I got a sense that he had nice balls, but I wasn't sure. I was determined to have him again, which is why I was so aggressive in pursuing him.

The date after that-- about two weeks later-- was spent entirely at his home. It was then that I discovered the full glory of what was between his legs. Not only was his dick very thick and long, about 7 1/2" and hard to boot, but he had the largest, plumpest balls I had ever handled. His entire body, in fact, was exciting. It was firm and smooth with just enough definition to make it hot. His arms and chest were nice and he had a small pot belly, which somehow added to his allure. His ass was small, tight, and smooth, and his hips and thighs were equally tight and smooth. His large, plump genitals protruded out from his groin in an almost obscene way. In fact, to conceal them he had to wear loose, pleated pants.

That evening I sucked him before we slept and then again in the morning. He wasn't much into fooling around but he relented when I insisted. He came very fast each time.

The upshot of the whole thing was that I didn't really excite him, and in the weeks that followed he kept putting me off until I gave up.

Editor's Note: The writer of the following letters is one of the most credible of all the STH writers; he does not write slick porn but ragged reality, with all its imperfections, awkwardness, and unpredictable turns. Although writing is not his profession, he does a better job of portraying reality than most writers do.

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.