The house I was born in had belonged to my great-grandfather, then my grandfather and then my father. It had been a stately wood-frame house, but by the time I came along it had deteriorated and needed constant repairs. The neighborhood it stood in had deteriorated even more.
What had once been a nice middle-class neighborhood with single-family homes and small apartment buildings, which had been built later, was now a run-down, crime-ridden area with more and more boarded-up buildings.
My dad owned a small dry cleaning business, and never made enough money to keep up with the repairs our house needed, let alone affording us the chance to move to another area.
By the age of twelve I was hanging around one of the neighborhood gangs, and despite my mother’s protestations, I got more and more into gang activities. When I was sixteen I was a full-fledged member and had developed a tough-guy attitude and a swagger I never completely lost.
Also, when I was sixteen we were all away one day when the house caught fire and burned to the ground. We came home to a pile of smoldering ashes. The only thing we had were the clothes we were wearing.
It was determined the fire was caused by an electrical problem. The Red Cross came to our immediate aid, and being a business man, if a not very successful one, Dad had always paid the insurance premiums. When we got the insurance money we moved far away, to one of the new suburbs which had sprung up around the city.
We bought a small, solid house with a front and back yard. I got a dog, and the start of a new life. But it was hard to leave the old one behind. I was the new kid in a new high school. I didn’t know anyone, and my attitude and swagger didn’t make anyone want to get to know me. For most of the school years I had left, I was an outsider, a loner.
The bad-boy image was pretty popular with some of the girls, so I had dates and a couple of girlfriends for short whiles, but nothing serious. When I was nineteen I was still a virgin, doomed to masturbate forever, it seemed.
Three things happened that nineteenth year, which made big changes in my life. I was working at my dad’s dry-cleaning business, mostly using the steam-press, which I hated. One evening I took the bus into the city (I had no money to even think of buying a car). I was hanging out at a game arcade, playing a variety of video games. An older man in a suit (I now know he was fifty. The way I know that will come later.) was watching me play and began to make comments about how good I was at scoring.
He kept chatting me up, and I was flattered. He asked if I’d like to have a drink, on him. I said “Sure.” We went to his hotel room. He gave me half a glass of vodka – straight. There was no mix of any kind. I tasted it, and that was about it. I may have tried another couple of sips, but I didn’t want any more.
He took off his coat and hung it in the closet. We sat on his bed, as in this dump of a room there wasn’t even a chair. He put his hand on my crotch and squeezed it. I guess I could have slugged him, being the bad boy I was, but I didn’t. No one had ever come close to squeezing my cock before, and it felt damn good.
He unzipped my pants and pulled my already half-hard cock out.
“My god, Garth,” he said. “Where’d you get a dick like that?”
I think I probably smiled. You know where flattery will get you. He kind of pushed me back and leaned down and took my now throbbing cock in his mouth. My mind blacked out.
After bobbing his head up and down for several mad minutes he began pulling at my belt and unbuttoning the waistband of my pants. When he got them open he started on his own pants.
He stood up and pulled them off, saying, “Get out of those jeans. I want more of that dick.”
I didn’t know what that meant, but I wanted more of his mouth sucking my cock, so I pulled my jeans off. He got on the bed on his knees his arms folded in front of him and put his head on his forearms.
“Stick that big dick in my ass. I want you to fuck the hell out of me,” was what he said.
I’d never even thought about fucking anybody in the ass, let alone a man older than my dad. But I stepped up and aimed my cock at his visible, brown asshole and pushed it in.
‘Holy shit,’ is the first thing I thought.
This was a whole new experience for me. I had no idea sex could feel so good. Why hadn’t I ever done this before? Of course, the obvious answer was I’d never had the opportunity to fuck anything but my fist before. Now here we were, me in my T-shirt and Reeboks, and him in his brogans, dress shirt and tie, my cock shoved up his ass.
Even though I’d never fucked before, nature tells you what to do, and I did it. I was pounding away, but it didn’t take me long to cum. I’m surprised I hadn’t shot my wad the moment he’d put his mouth on my cock. But I did now, filling his ass with my teenage spunk.
When I figured my balls had been drained I pulled my cock out. He got up and motioned toward the bathroom with his head.
“You can clean your dick off in there,” he said.
I went in and washed my cock and took a piss. When I came out he was dressed again. He tossed me my jeans. I struggled back into them.
“I’ll give you a ride back to the arcade,” was all he said.
I guess on the ride back we must have said something, but nothing that stuck in my mind. He dropped me off and wished me well or something like that. I caught the bus home and most of that night lay awake wondering what had happened.
The second big change came a couple months after that. I was sick and tired of working in the dry cleaners and the way my life was going, or more accurately, the way it wasn’t going anywhere. I wanted to see the world, so without saying a word to my parents, I joined the navy.
After boot camp, or more properly RTC, in Great Lakes Illinois, I was assigned to the Pacific Fleet stationed on North Island in San Diego.
And then number three hit. My father dropped dead of a pulmonary embolism, leaving my mom all alone. There was a forth change which I didn’t know about yet, or maybe it was just an extension of the third. My mom started drinking.
During my four years as a navy man I saw only a small part of the world. We went to Hawaii on a training exercise, and another time to Guam. The rest of the time I was stationed in San Diego. But I did resume my sex education.
I fucked my first pussy at a whore house in Tijuana, and returned there twice. It wasn’t long before I had a variety of women of all ages willing to serve a young man in uniform.
As for guys, spread out over the four years I did some of that, too. I had two blow jobs when I was drunk (really), one in the men’s room of a bar, and the other in the alley behind a bar. Both of those I was standing up, or leaning against a wall, my cock poking out of my pants.
I fucked a fellow seaman in the ass in the middle of the pacific, which was pure insanity. And that was about it. Again, really!
While I was in Guam my mom, while drunk, fell in the bathroom, hitting her head on the edge of the bathtub. She lay there three days before a neighbor found her. That’s when I discovered how serious the drinking had become. The navy flew me home for the funeral.
When my service time was up I had no desire to return home. I sold the house and decided I wanted to see more of the world than I’d seen so far. I went north to San Pedro and got hired on a freighter. For two years I fucked in almost all the ports surrounding the Pacific.
And I should tell you that the Second Assistant Engineer on my ship who reminded me of Bluto, Popeye’s nemesis, sucked me off once and I fucked him once. It was weird, fucking an ape three times my size.
In Japan I got picked up by a German tourist. We went to his hotel room and I pulled my pants and underwear down to my knees and lay there watching him lick my cock and balls like they were candy.