Sex Histories	Sex Histories Archive

[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. B. McD.]

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

New York City I recently moved into a one-bedroom apartment in a neighborhood that is thick with Oriental and Hispanic families not the kind of place where I would expect to be cruised. About two weeks ago, however, I had a very nice experience.

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I was leaving the subway about 9 P.M. and discovered, much to my annoyance, that the transit authority had closed the exit that I generally use. I started walking toward the other exit and briefly noticed that a young, handsome, Hispanic-looking man gave me a very hard look. I was still annoyed, however, and doubled back to talk to the transit employees standing nearby. After a short and polite conversation (I'm not rude, even when I'm angry) I walked toward the open exit and started up the stairs at which point I saw the young man still on the stairs, when he should have been at least two blocks away. I knew that something was up.

He looked macho and also very tense. Was he going to rob me? Did he imagine that I had looked at him and was he going to punch me?

I went on my way. But then he changed his path to coincide with mine. Not wanting to be punched, but also not wanting to lose a cocksucking opportunity, I behaved a little oddly myself I stopped to remove a pebble that wasn't there from my shoe and I stopped to make a phone call, though I had no one to call. I did all this to see what he'd do. He pretty much stayed with me, but even so I couldn't tell if he was cruising me or was an obsessed homophobe ready to attack.

Finally I started toward my house and he followed, and I concluded that this was a genuine cruise.

I slowed down and he caught up with me. I said hello and struck up a conversation in my best macho style. I could smell liquor on his breath and I was still apprehensive. The direction of his talk however, made it clear that he was truly interested, so after a while I just asked him if he wanted his dick taken care of. He asked to be taken home and I said no, suggesting instead that we find a spot. I led him to the local Catholic church and suggested a spot in the shadows but he balked at that.

During our conversation, however, he displayed a sense of humor and became visibly relaxed, so I decided to take him home after all.

His name is Nestor and he is 21 (I'm 40).

While we were talking, he patted my soft belly. He seemed to like it.

When we got inside my house, the first thing he did was remove his shoes, which relieved me (a thief wouldn't do that).

We walked to my bedroom and embraced and kissed. He quickly had his hands all over my body and especially enjoyed rubbing my stomach. He opened up our clothes and I went down on him. His dick was a nine inches, decently thick much more so than mine and uncut. After a bit, we rolled into bed and peeled off our clothes.

He was very sweet and gentle in bed. He kissed me quite a bit, though his technique showed some inexperience. He groped me all over and sucked me, as I sucked him, and we ground our crotches together.

His body was lovely nicely shaped and firm, with a small belly of his own, His face, especially, was intriguing. As he experienced his pleasure, all manner of ecstatic contortions passed over it and he looked quite boyish and appealing.

He asked to fuck me and produced a condom while I got the lubricant. We fucked in several positions, finally settling on a position with me standing over the bed while he fucked me from behind. His dick hurt me a bit that way, but I didn't mind. As he approached orgasm, however, the pain was too much and I almost pulled away. Then he came.

He was concerned that I come also, and I did. He jerked me off with the lubricant while I groped and kneaded his meaty cock. It was very exciting. His energy wasn't exhausted, however, and he went on to have a second orgasm, though at that point I was ready to quit.

After sex we talked and he told me that he dated girls but occasionally went with a man. He seemed to accept his gay side, though I sensed that there was a part of him in conflict over it.

I gave him my number, but he said goodbye in a way that told me he wouldn't be calling.

Maybe I'll run into him again.

'Only a slight crotch odor'

Several months ago I was visiting a dear friend of mine at his home, where he fixed me a large dinner. My friend is black and lives in a poor neighborhood.

Shortly after dinner, I decided to leave. Thirty seconds after the subway doors closed it hit me that I had to defecate badly. Needless to say, I was panicky. I didn't know the neighborhoods on the subway line except that they were dangerous, so I couldn't get off the train. About a year before I had crapped in my pants in public and I didn't want to repeat that awful experience.

I went to the conductor and explained the situation. He told me there was a men's room at the transfer station, which was about 25 minutes away. Fortunately, I managed to hold on until I got there.

The transfer station was likewise in a poor black neighborhood. The men's room was near the flow of pedestrians, but it seemed ominously empty when I entered it. I felt ripe for a mugging in there, being white, middle-aged, and pudgy, but I had no choice.

There was no toilet paper so I cleaned the seat with the tissues in my pocket. After shitting, I had to remove my undershirt and rip it into pieces in order to wipe myself.

My nervousness was heightened when someone came in and left quickly, as if he were casing the place.

When I finished, my instinct was to leave but I was, after all, a gay man, and I was in a men's room, and I just couldn't leave. I waited for a bit and then took a walk around the station to check it out.

When I returned, there were two young black men at the urinals, one huskier than the other, and they both eyed me aggressively. The husky one was apparently hot for the slim one but the slim one wasn't interested. Even though I could see they weren't together, they made me nervous, so I left the room. After a bit, the husky one walked out and I went back in.

The slim one was in one of the toilets. He peeked out and saw me and then stepped out. He stood at the toilet door, dressed in sweats and sneakers, and started playing with his clothes as if he were tucking his shirt in. When he saw that I was watching he started groping himself. As I watched, he eased his sweats down over his crotch so I could see his hard on straining the pouch of his jock strap.

Then he pulled his genitals out altogether and started stroking his hard on right in front of me.

After a few moments, he stepped toward me, silently offering me his dick.

I was very nervous and said something (which I can't remember) in a voice that almost cracked. I decided to dispense with words and I just knelt before him at the urinals. His cock was beautiful, about 7 1/2" long, straight, and proportionately thick. It was also cut, as I recall, and clean, there being only a slight crotch odor.

I sucked him for about eight minutes and also licked and sucked his balls. Actually, I didn't suck him as much as get fucked in the face by him. His thrusts were rapid but not brutal.

For the duration of the act he showed me no tenderness, neither holding nor stroking my head or shoulders as I worked on him. Despite his coldness, I serviced him with the greatest skill and deference that I could. Perhaps it was the bleeding heart in me, but I felt acutely aware of the inequity of our social situations that I was a white, middle-class, upscale professional, and he was a poor black youth. In this interaction, I wanted him to be the winner, the boss, the Man. It made me feel good to trade off my social superiority to him, if only for a few minutes.

His orgasm was mostly silent he increased the pace of his thrusts somewhat, and uttered a little gasp. I swallowed all of his cum.

As we were cleaning up, he asked me for money, to which I responded that we had done it for pleasure. He persisted, asking for "just a few bucks." I guess he needed it to preserve his masculinity. I gave him four tokens. It was worth it.