A Faggot's Tale

My name is John Smith. I am 45 years old. I live in a large mid-western city. I have to confess right off that I am an obvious queen—and always have been. I am a nurse and work in a hospital. Some of the middle-aged women patients fawn on me. I guess one could say that they are fag hags. When I was a child my mother often dressed me my older sister’s clothes, and I kinda liked it. She took pictures of me in drag, and even showed them to her friends.

When I started the first grade everybody called me a sissy, and some boys bullied me. But none of them ever hit me. I started sucking cock at an early age, which I can’t reveal here. During my late adolescence I was a wild person. I was cruising the streets one late night when a car stopped beside me. A fellow high school student, Ronnie, was in it, and 3 or 4 other boys unknown to me. Ronnie persuaded me to get into the car and go pleasure riding with them. I was so greedy that I didn’t realize how dangerous this could be. We went to a large overgrown open field and they made me suck all of their dicks. When I was finished one of the boys said, “Let’s beat the shit out of this queer.” But  Ronnie came to my rescue with a cooler head, and suggested that it was not a good idea. So I escaped a beating.

In high school, I would sometimes study in the auditorium, where I was usually alone because classes were over for the day.. Once there was another guy there. He was someone I had seen around school, and I thought he was the greatest--tall, muscular, and handsome. I had wanted him from first sight. I struck up a conversation and quickly got to the point. He accepted and we went behind the curtain on the stage. I had my way with him. This became an off-and-on occurrence. He once invited me to his house in the West End. He had told me to enter the side entrance, turn right, go up the stairs to the second floor, and enter such-and-such bedroom. I don’t know how I had the balls to do this, but I went. When I quietly entered the side entrance I could hear the TV in the living room. I imagined that the rest of his family was there, but perhaps he was alone in the house. My heart was in my throat. I was afraid that someone would spot me and call the police to report an intruder. I went to the designated bedroom and there he was. Afterwards he escorted me downstairs, and I was out of the house. I ran into him on the street a couple of years out of high school and he went with me to my windowless rented  room for sex.  

About this time I discovered Central Park. The middle of the park was its highest point, with a colonnade. From here one could see almost the entire park. Guys would wait for contacts there and do their business out in the open without fear.

This spot, too, had its regulars.  I gave myself a nickname. It was Aida Brown ("I eat or brown". Guys ask me how I can breathe with a big cock down my throat. I tell them I breathe thru my shit chute. I met a guy there whose job was to read electric meters. I nicknamed him the "meter reader peter eater."

Word got around that teenage boys were robbing the gays. I decided to come to the defense of my fellow cruisers and teach the bastards a lesson. For several years during my late teens and early twenties, I always carried a switchblade to protect myself should I face a difficult situation. I had to visit the park several different nights to accomplish my task, but eventually I saw two kids approaching the center of the park. When they got close enough I could tell they were menacing. I was ready for them. I yelled out, "OK, you motherfuckers, come one step closer and I’ll cut the two of you to shreds." They could see my knife and they turned and fled the park. I’ll bet they thought twice before going after their next victim.

One evening out cruising for meat, I stumbled upon a strange situation. It was on a narrow band of land beside the De Sonhos River and extended some fifteen blocks or so. It had entrances only at both ends. Part of its width was covered by the trestles of the Illinois Central Railroad, with a train station above. I soon found out that the spot had nonstop sex action, day and night. Most 'of the "servicers" were black, while the "servicees" were white, straight, and mostly young rough-trade types. These guys weren’t there to get paid, they went there to unload. Why it was this black-white division of labor, I never figured out. I have always believed that blacks give better oral sex because many have larger lips and bigger mouths. This certainly must contribute a more enjoyable experience. I suspect that the cruising area had been in operation for years, and was apparently widely known, as there were always "customers." I didn’t fit the mold. Sometimes I gave, sometimes I got, but not with the same person. In spite of being totally open, it was completely safe. I never saw cops there, although they must have known about it. Nor did anyone go there to rob.

At times the railroad workers would stand above the trestles and peer down. Sometimes there were two or three and they would make comments like "Look, that guy can really suck." This never bothered anyone being watched. That’s because there was no way to get down into the area directly from above. Had they wanted to stop the action below they would have had to run fast for four blocks just to get down there. There were unobstructed views toward each end of the cruising area, so any suspicious persons could be seen from a distance and one could disperse long before they reached the spot. I suspect that some of the workers would sometimes sneak off from their colleagues to go get their share.

I got to know an assorted cast of characters that frequented this haven. One was a black guy who earned the name of "Sweet Lips" due to his superior talents. He had his own regulars, who insisted on using him and no one else. I met a white guy a few years older than me and we became speaking acquaintances. I asked him why he always wore a toboggan cap even on hot summer days. He answered, "I’ll show you why." He pulled off his cap and long tresses fell halfway down his back. I gasped in disbelief. I had never seen a man with such long hair before. He explained that he was a drag performer with something called The Jewel Box Review,  and that his stage name was Bonnie Belle. I begin to attract my own regulars. Two were an unlikely pair that often stopped by together to get serviced. One was a man in his mid- thirties, the other a teen-age kid of about eighteen. The boy had only one nut.

Across the street from the Trailways bus station was a burlesque movie house, that showed hetero movies. The films it showed were tame compared to today’s pornography. But that didn’t stop horny guys from frequenting the place. And they in turn attracted predatory gays. It was a madhouse. One frequent visitor was a guy in a wheelchair. Another guy, perhaps his lover, would wheel him into the theater, then down the steps to the men’s room to spend the afternoon. He would move up beside the urinal and wait there. His wheelchair was low-seated, putting him at about cock level. When a guy with a stiff prick came to "piss," there was a mouth inches from his cock. They got the message quickly and either accepted the obvious offer or left. Mr. Wheelchair didn’t mind who watched him in action. No one ever got angry with him and struck him, I suppose because he was in a wheelchair. Maybe that device was just a ploy. I sure had my share of dick in that men’s room.

I my roaming, I met a strange assortment of characters. One was a fat middle-aged queen who was constantly at one of the city’s glory holes. The poor sole had a fatal heart attack while sucking a cock. I don’t know how the guy he was sucking managed to pull his tool out of the cocksucker’s mouth. Of course I have always adored glory holes too, but that’s another story.

Somehow I came across a guy who had earned the nickname of Stepladder Kate. He was tall and skinny. He was probably rich, but slightly retarded. He spent every day sitting in the Greyhound bus station. I don’t think he ever picked anyone up. He probably got his thrill by watching the comings and goings of the travelers. Several years later, I had to make a trip east. Low and behold he was sitting in the Greyhound station in Philadelphia. I guess he got bored with our city.

I met a fellow cocksucker who lived in a lower-class neighborhood. He was also tall. One night he invited me to an orgy in a open field in the neighborhood. He invited a group of teen aged neighborhood boys for the occasion. We shared them. He actually lifted up a short guy, sat him on his shoulder, and proceeded to suck his dick. What a sight!

After I did my internship as a nurse, I got a job at that hospital. I was able to buy a small house in a lower-middle class neighborhood, with a tiny front yard. I sowed grass seeds there. Not being large enough to accommodate a lawn mower, which I couldn’t afford anyway, I cut the grass with my scissors.

Well, I guess I’ve gone long enough. I hope I didn’t bore you.