Sex Histories	Sex Histories Archive

Excerpted from Lewd, Boyd McDonald's 12th volume of true sex histories.

California-- I just finished reading Raunch and I thought this would be a good time to share a couple of my experiences with you. You can see by the date that it's New Year's Eve.

I guess I always knew I was gay, even as a pretty little kid. Maybe we all do. By the time I hit junior high, I was hanging out with two other guys in my class who were gay too. Sometimes the other guys in our class ranked us out, called us faggots, things like that. But we never had to fight them and honestly sometimes I think that most of the guys who did the most ranking were actually turned on by the thought of what we three were doing. And we were doing plenty jacking off, sucking off, plenty of it.

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We used to go in this men's room in the bus depot on Sunday afternoons and put on little shows for the mangy old guys peeking through the holes drilled in the stalls. But we kept it to ourselves wouldn't let anybody else touch us. I guess we were three pricks for teasing but as I recall plenty of the guys who watched us got their rocks off just looking and jerking off while we ate each other and licked each other's balls. We never fucked each other, though. We tried it too early, I think, and it hurt too much and we got scared off. So we restricted our activities to mainly sucking and jacking off.

OK. When we got to be 16, the three of us heard about this teen study tour of Europe through the guidance office at our school and we spent months working on our parents to let us go. It was for a month in the summer and it took in London, Paris, and Morocco. I guess our folks got sick of us whining about how we wanted to go, and anyway, our grades were OK (how, I don't know, since we never studied much), so in the end we all signed up. See, I think we figured that we would be able to really flame out in Europe.

We went out and bought some great clothes (this was 1972, by the way) and sunglasses, and shit, and we thought we were the living end of queerdom.

Unfortunately, London and Paris did not live up to our raunchy expectations. We cruised a few public loos and pissoirs and struck out every time.

Once in London, at the Tate Gallery, I almost got picked up by an old guy, well dressed, with a big bushy moustache, but at the last minute Phil and Eddie came into the men's room (Phil and Eddie my friends) and I guess he got scared off before he had a chance to do more than ask me to show him my bum, as he called it.

Paris was even worse. Aside from a couple of leers, we got nowhere. Plus, the chaperones were really vigilant and kept us running from one cultural activity to another with hardly any free time at all in between. Maybe they figured out that we three we big trouble. Anyway, the only sex we had was what we got from each other at night when we'd sneak into each other's beds after curfew.

In Paris, Phil finally managed to fuck Eddie while I watched and jacked off. Phil was the most advanced (and most developed he had around eight inches and his cock was hefty and thick) and the most daring. It took a lot of doing to fit his dick into Eddie's ass and I don't think he managed to get all the way in. But after some initial pain Eddie seemed to enjoy the experience because pretty soon his ass was matching Phil's pushing thrust for thrust and he was moaning so loud I had to tell him to cool it so nobody would come to see what was going on.

When Phil got ready to come he suddenly pulled out of Eddie and grabbed his cock and aimed it right at me. His hot cum shot across Eddie's body and hit me right in the face and chest.

Eddie came then and left a huge load right on the hotel bedspread and I came too, rubbing Phil's cum onto my nipples and squeezing my cock into Eddie's waiting mouth. That was the best time we'd ever had.

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.