Sex Histories	Sex Histories Archive

In the early 70s I met an Italian longshoreman on the promenade in Brooklyn Heights. He was short, swarthy, had a wiry and quite beautiful (if rather slight) body, and had a splendid pair of buttocks. He was never happier than when my face was between them, or than when his dick was between mine.

I think almost anyone would think him handsome, although many might think him too small. His dick was not especially large, but not a pee-wee either, and it was perfectly in scale with the rest of his body.

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Vinnie was very feisty, masculine, and self-confident, with more than a suggestion of the thug about him. He always packed a rod and that always made me very nervous. It was nevertheless rather thrilling to see him unstrap the body holster and put it on the bedside table. I don't think he was involved with the mob, but I was never sure.

For a period of about 10 years, all through the 70s, and indeed, right up until the early years of the AIDS crisis, there was seldom a month that I didn't see him at least once. He was one of those men, not uncommon among Italians, who never seem to age. We were both 40 when we met; I looked it, while he looked about 35. Ten years later I still looked my age and he still looked 35.

He loved having his ass sucked but not his cock, complaining that the sensation was too intense for him. He insisted, instead, on fucking me. I have never enjoyed being fucked (it hurts!) and I've always felt it to be something of an indignity. When it comes to my own ass I've always been more than a little inhibited. So much so, I find a lack of that inhibition admirable and masculine in other men and that's perhaps the prime reason that I find the male ass so fascinating and exciting.

Fortunately, his dick was smaller than average and I was able to suffer through his anal importunings with a degree of equanimity. But, in advance, I always dreaded it and tried to find excuses to put him off, mostly without success.

That he was so exciting in all other respects made it worth it. Vinnie was married and had kids and what little he told me about his family made it clear that he'd lost all sexual interest in his wife. He always had girl friends on the side but I suspect that they were mostly prostitutes. (My frequent blood tests in those days of promiscuity were for no flippant purpose.) I was able very soon in our friendship to interest him in the pleasures of pissing in my mouth. He liked it because it "added a bit of spice." He'd always do it the first thing on arriving and the last thing before leaving. But he was resolute in his refusal to shit for me. On just one occasion he did accommodate me in that respect but the circumstances were very far from ideal. He called me one evening to ask if he could bring a girl friend by. He needed a place to fuck her. I didn't like the idea at all; I thought he was taking advantage of me. But fearing to wound our friendship, I told him okay.

Oh, how I regretted it! She was something right out of Dogpatch-- fat, gross, stupid, and not young. I have to say, in fairness, that she seemed affable and sweet-natured, but I was shocked that Vinnie, himself so handsome and desirable, could sully himself with a creature like that. Yet he seemed to like her.

I sat in a chair beside the bed and watched him fuck her, and then I became entrapped and was myself sullied. He wanted me to suck his ass while he fucked hers. As usual, I couldn't refuse him, so I got behind him and stuck my tongue up him. She was face down and he was on top of her and I don't know if she was aware of what I was doing. I didn't really care At one point he pulled his cock out of her ass. It was shit-smeared and he looked at me as if he thought I might be interested in cleaning it off (Oh God, how horrible!). My refusal was unambiguous.

He was annoyed, saying he'd promised her he'd let her see me clean off his dick. I was adamant in my refusal but in a cunning compromise, I suggested that I'd have no objection to having her watch me eat his.

I don't think even then he was all that keen on doing it but she was avid in her wish to watch it. So, he put me down on the floor and squatted over my face and gave me a princely bowl full, with her watching all the while, thunderstruck and fascinated.

So, while the circumstances could hardly have been worse, I did at last obtain from him what I had so long yearned for, and in addition, fulfilled my long-nurtured wish to eat a man's shit while a woman watched. Too bad it was the wrong woman.

To her credit, she wasn't in the least judgmental and suggested, in fact, that it might be fun for the two of us to get together. I smiled wanly at her but I would rather have died than to have done so.

In the late 60s two friends of mine recommended me to a married couple who like to "swing." Here is the story on them.

The husband George, was bisexual and Anne was not. She liked to be fucked and she liked to suck cock, the more the better. They had frequent gatherings in their apartment of from two to as many as a half dozen bisexual male guests. They never had female guests. Anne wasn't at all disposed to share the wealth with other women. At the time they were both in their mid-fifties. They were trim, attractive, bright, and charming.

Their parties always began with a drink or two and some chatter, but soon, Anne would break the ice by kneeling before one of the guests, unzipping his trousers, taking out his prick, and sucking it. In about a minute everyone in the room would be naked.

The men would all be free to make it with one another, but an unspoken rule required that Anne always be occupied with at least one prick. And in the course of the evening everyone would fuck her at least once. George would from time to time suck a dick himself but he usually preferred to sit to one side of the fray and watch. His favorite thing was to suck out Anne's cunt after she had been fucked three or four times.

One of my favorite things was to lie on the floor on my back and have her lie on her back on top of me with her ass just under my chin. Then one of the guys would get on top of her and fuck her using me as their bed. That way his dick and her pussy would be within my tongue's reach, and what a wonderful view! I could lick his balls and get my tongue right in there with the dick. And now and then he would pull it out of her and stick it, all cunt-beslimed, into my mouth.

A couple of times there was a fellow there who quite caught my fancy. One evening I followed him into the bathroom, where he cheerfully pissed for me. George and Anne somehow got wind of it-- perhaps my benefactor had told them-- and from then on they were after me to join in a private piss party. I was surprised that they were interested in that scene, for neither of them appreciated being rimmed. I would happily have done some piss with George but I didn't want to do it with Anne. They were so persistent on the subject that I finally started finding excuses to decline their frequent invitations.

The last few times I saw them I had taken on old friend with me. Daniel was a former co-worker and my best friend.

I've never known anyone to give himself with such enthusiasm to both hetero and gay sex. I suppose that if Daniel had to choose he'd opt for a heterosexual life, being very much a family man (and the AIDS crises have forced that choice on him). But he keenly misses his gay pleasures. For one thing, he loves to be fucked. It was Daniel who taught me that a guy can get fucked without in the least compromising his masculinity, for he is one of the most masculine men I've ever known, as well as one of the brightest, and the one I've most enjoyed fucking.

Now I use a dildo on him or a latex-gloved finger. We've tried condoms but I simply can't maintain an erection with one on. We now never have any actual physical contact but he will still put me in the tub, piss on me, and feed me his shit, and in spite of the restraints of recent years, we still have terrific times together.

Daniel is proof of something I've observed all my life. Married bisexuals always seem more willing to lend themselves to kinky sex than exclusively gay men who often seem primly disapproving of "dirty" things (thank God that's not universally so).

I believe that bisexuals are more adventurous, in general, and seem to welcome anything that provides variety and relief from the same old thing of marital sex There even seems to be ofttimes a kind of "naughty boy" syndrome at work. When a guy gets a rare evening out without the wife I think there is often a thrill to "get down and really dirty." There is a somewhat better chance that a straight male will shit in my mouth than that a gay one will. The same with piss.

I remember one fellow who used to come by my place regularly for a couple of years. Jerry was a car salesman in his early 50s and Italian. His wife was an excellent homemaker, almost obsessed with cleanliness, and he was proud of her.

I had never thought to ask him to indulge in anything kinky because he didn't seem to be the type. There was something so wholesomely middle-class about him.

But one evening after I had just sucked him off, he made a move to go take a leak and on an impulse I asked him to give it to me. I am certain that nothing of the sort had ever occurred to him in his life but he was game and he pissed for me. His cock was bone-hard again even before he'd finished and he began fucking me in the mouth almost fiercely. He came in less than a minute. He'd never before cum more than once in the course of a visit.

From that point forward he was literally consumed with the notion of pissing.

He even invented a fictitious buddy whose girl friend drank his piss so that he could talk about it with his heterosexual friends.

Prior to that first piss, I saw him no more than once a month; but his visits were virtually weekly thereafter.

And it was he who first suggested that I eat his shit; and, of course, I did. I had asked him if he had some piss for me and he looked at me with strangely luminous eyes and said, "I've got everything for you."

He became even more feverishly hot for me after that.

Then, all of a sudden, he stopped coming. I think I must have flipped some switch in him that ultimately frightened him. I've provided any number of fellows with their first excursion into scat, including my friend Daniel, but the intensity of Jerry's response was unique in my experience. **

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

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.