Sex Histories	Sex Histories Archive

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

Virginia-- Having been a hot consumer of your books, I am returning the favor done for me by all of your fuckers, cocksuckers, ass rimmers, ball lickers and whatever. I'll concentrate in this letter on some experiences in Paris, specifically those in various baths.

My all-time favorite was the Milan, near the Gare St. Lazare. Alas, it is now gone and the clientele has fled to other places. My best afternoon there was several years ago in one of their open cubicles (no privacy, which is fine by me).

T

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here I was lying on a padded bench. Along came three guys. One proceeded to suck, lick and bite my nipples; the second sucked away on my prick and the third rimmed my asshole.

After a bit someone replaced me and I then circled behind this trio and fucked each one from behind. That was great.

It was one hot place with a lot of public action. It had a sauna which was somewhat more luxe than the rest of the establishment. Better behavior apparently was expected there.

I enticed one guy into a cubicle to eat my meat and as I was getting ready to fuck him, the attendant came up and said such disgusting conduct was not permitted there. Group sex at the Milan took place almost everywhere except there.

My partner at what was to be my last visit to the Milan was completely shaved, with the biggest, pinkest nipples I have ever chewed on. He couldn't get enough. He wore what looked like a jeweled, tassled cock ring, a good deal flashier than my rubber one.

With a sizeable audience, we pinched, slapped, stroked, and otherwise felt each other all over. Then he went down on me and I shot a wad in no time.

Americans patronized the Milan. I could tell because stray copies of the International Herald Tribune would be lying around. I couldn't distinguish between American and French sex maniacs, however. I will tell you this: the French probably like fucking better than the practice that goes by their name.

Another place with plenty of action out in the open was the Bains de Grandes Armees, not far from the Etoile. It too is now gone. It was somewhat crummy, with peeling plaster all around. My best time there came about when an attractive man asked me to fuck the shit out of him while he chewed another one's not bad piece of meat.

I got an instant view of heavy dark brown butt and thighs. A smiling brown face looked at me through the slit.

I stood and put my rapidly hardening cock through the slit. It was hard for him to get a grip on it with his mouth, but he did. His wide brown nose flattened against the dirty tile. I was positive that he'd had the same experience before. My 7 inches was just long and flexible enough for his hot mouth and gritty tongue to play havoc with my nerve endings and much too soon I was shooting my brains out through my dick into his sucking mouth.

My spasms were avidly watched by my elderly neighbor in the other booth. He was whimpering in a low, moaning voice for me to turn and put my drained & dripping cock through his booth crack and into his toothless, watering suck hole. He forlornly kept wiggling his gnarled fingers through the slit. Hell, I knew I was pooped but he was so game, so eager, & kept up a quiet but audible whimper of "Please let me suck on it a little while, kid."

I was slumped over the stool and thought to myself what the hell.

I stood and slid my limp prick through to his toothless mouth. What an unearthly sensation. His 70 years of practice, his lack of teeth, his suctioning power like that of an industrial-strength vacuum cleaner, and his odd humming took me to orgasm about as rapidly as the hearty brown man had done only minutes before.

Meanwhile, my earlier sucker watched me through my second cum. He managed to get about 6 or 7 inches of his brown cock through the slit. Exhausted, but always ready for my favorite act, I slowly slid my suck hole into medium drive and had a sweet, rum-laced load out of his rod in a few minutes.

Back in San Francisco

In our room at the Y, I rested in our double bed in my white skivvies. L. returned from the movies. I watched as he slowly stripped down to his Jockey shorts. There were still wet spots, looking suspiciously like cum stains, on the bulging front of the white briefs. He grabbed towel and headed for the showers.

I dozed for a minute or two. L. had not returned. I stood & stretched & noticed that I could see into the shower room on our floor. L. stood there, shoulders and head thrown back against the white tile while a dark head bobbed back & forth in front of his crotch. L's mouth was opened slightly & his eyes were closed. His hands were helping move the black head servicing him.

I grabbed my towel and headed for the showers. Slipping inside, I saw that the kneeling young black man was pulling on his big cock as he knelt & sucked L. The water continued to run and neither heard me as I slipped into the room and slid down to engulf the long fat tool of L's servitor.

He didn't miss a beat. L's legs began to tremble. He shot his wad. The black cock down my throat followed & gave me a heavy nut-flavored syrup, thick and tasty.

L. came out of his trance, noticed me, grabbed his towel from a hook, & fled the shower room. My young back man was back on his heels enjoying the aftermath of his own double pleasure, a load of Navajo cum and the release of his own load. He quickly recovered, grabbed me, kissed me, & pulled my hard cock into his hands. I stood & he sucked my 7 inches to the root. It did not take me long to cum for the third time that day. But before I came, two other young guys joined us. One, Italianate with tight curls, rubbed my ass, got his fat, uncut cock hard & stuck it in my ass. The other pulled my cocksucker up & eased into his ass. I came, they came, & my cocksucker using his hand came again.

I returned to the room, where I found L. almost fully dressed, trying to leave before he had to face me and the truth he had learned about both of us that day. He mumbled a half-apology, which I ignored while I grabbed him & held him tight & kissed him. He trembled in my grip, relaxed, & returned my kiss.

I dressed & joined him in a further ramble to see what San Francisco had to offer. We went to dinner in North Beach at the Red Lantern & again split & went our own ways into the evening.

Around the corner on Broadway, I went into a lively western bar, ablaze with mother-of-pearl buttons and Texas boots. None of these cowboys (or almost none) had been east of the Pecos. Despite my lack of attire, my Texas twang soon brought me into the center of attention & free beer.

The crowd grew well beyond fire code limits. I was pushed into a corner near the bar. The heat was oppressive so I shucked my shirt & laid it on the bar. Guys passing by felt me up until my dick hardened in my chinos. Then a hefty young man, as beefy as me, slowly sank beneath the level of the crowd & put his mouth on the crotch of my pants. This was an era even in San Francisco when arrest for homosexuality was an everyday occurrence. I grabbed him under his arms and lifted him to face me. I quickly finished my beer, grabbed my shirt, and pushed after my hearty cohort out of the bar.

Outside we introduced ourselves as I got my shirt back on in the chilly San Francisco evening.

After a walk up Nob Hill we got to his place. He started to undress me on the way up his stairs, pulling my shirt out of my pants, reaching around my waist, unbuttoning my pants, & then pulling them partially down over my hips.

I turned at the top of the stairs and grabbed him, hugging & kissing as hard as I could. We bear-hugged each other. He was my first true conquest in San Francisco, the first man I could be complete with. Our arms about each other's neck, we fell into his bed.

Back at the Y, L. was a little antsy about my being late. I am almost never late. We drove back to Monterey mostly in silence, with L. occasionally giving my left knee a friendly squeeze.

L. & I went back to San Francisco several more times during the year. We never had formal sex, although we saw each other get head and L. watched me give it.

I went to San Francisco two weekends a month during the year and a half I served in Monterey and enjoyed myself every trip but one. I decided in 1955 that I would come back to live there and did. It is the place I love, the place in which I live, and the place where I will shortly die of AIDS and have my ashes remain.

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.