The Difference Between Fantasy And Reality: Is it real?
Monday, March 25, 1974
When I arrived to my first-period class (AP pre-calculus,) the teacher called me up to his desk, and handed me an envelope. It was from my counselor, informing me that I had an appointment to take the SAT test the following Saturday, March 30 @ 8:15 am. The duration of the test was estimated to be about 3 and half hours. The location was at the local community college, about 15 minutes away by freeway. Walking there was not an option. I filed the notice away in the binder I used for notes and other school-related documents, so that I could just hand it to Liam (Eric’s father) that evening.
While getting dressed after 3rd-period PE, there was an “incident”: A student whistled at me, as a guy might do when seeing a pretty young female. That got a lot of eyes on both me and him—including Eric’s, and those of our three friends. But no one said anything. I didn’t know how to interpret the event: Was I being mocked? Or…? Whatever the case, there didn’t seem to be anything I could do about it. And honestly, I wasn’t even sure what I wanted to do about it, because I wasn’t sure what the intended message might have been.
When the gang—myself, Eric, Misha, Brandon and Greg—all met up just outside the gym, on our way to the cafeteria for lunch—I asked, “What the hell was that?”
Eric replied, “He’s lucky I didn’t beat his ass.”
But Greg wasn’t quite so ready to assume the worst, saying “Perhaps he was just appreciating the results of the weight training you’ve been doing, John?”
Misha disagreed: “Nah. It would usually take a lot longer than just a few weeks for the weight training you guys have been doing to be noticeable.”
Brandon weighed in, “Actually, the improvements in both of your physiques are just beginning to be apparent.”
Eric had the last word: “I don’t give a fuck! No one’s allowed to be whistling at John like that.” He paused, then added, “Except for me!” He tried to look super pissed off, but his grin gave him away. We all just started laughing.
I decided that Eric could whistle at me like that whenever he felt like it.
When we got to Eric’s house after school that afternoon, Eric proposed the idea that, instead of just having sex like we usually would, we should pretend to be playing out a scenario:
The Setup
I get accepted at a college, as a Freshman, in a city on the other side of the country. So I have to move there. To do that, I have to place a classified ad in the college city’s local newspaper, seeking to be a roommate—starting in August, before the first day of class. I succeed at getting several offers, one of which I accept.
My new roommate’s name is Brock Hanson; he’s a Sophomore, attending the same college. The residence is a small, one-story house “on the poor side of town”—very poor, which is why the rent is so cheap that I can actually afford it: The whole house rents for $120/month; my share of the rent is $60/month. I’ll also be responsible for half of the utilities (power, phone, garbage,) estimated to be about $30/month, at most. [1974 prices sure do look cheap, don’t they?]
I fly out there on Aug 1; Brock meets me at the airport. He looks to be about 6’4” tall; he has reddish-auburn hair, which is well groomed; he’s well-built, not fat; he has a “Norman Rockwell” face. Brock takes me out to lunch, and then takes me home.
I can see why the rent is so low. Brock has furnished the place, probably using the GoodWill. All I have to my name is two suitcases, my carry-on bag, and a briefcase with my important papers.
Oh, an important point: I’m playing myself, in a cameo role (on Eric’s insistence.) That means I’ll have to get a job, in order to pay the bills, although my mother is providing initial funding, sufficient to cover food, rent and transportation to/from the college, for at least the first month.
Eric, of course, will be playing Brock. The first “act” of the play begins with Brock and me sitting across from each other in the living room: I’m sitting in a chair; Brock is sitting on the couch. Brock will speak first.
The Curtain Rises
“So, John: Do you have a girlfriend?”, asked Eric, playing the role of Brock.
“Uh, no,” I replied—with a defensive tone, as would have been typical for me at that time in my real life.
“So, you wouldn’t be cheating on anyone, if we could find you one?,” he asked.
“Nope,” I replied—wondering where he’s going with this.
“Well, in that case, how would you like to come bar hopping with me?”, he asked. “We can probably pick up some girls—one for each of us.”
Ah, now I understood: He was pretending (as Brock) to be testing me to determine my sexual orientation. Sneaky bastard.
Realizing what’s up, I replid: “I’m just a poor boy, Brock. I can’t afford to go bar hopping. Nor could I afford a girl friend, if we happened to find me one.”
“Sorry to hear that, John. But, dude, I’m horny as fuck. And you know what I do about that, when I’m too poor to go bar hopping?”, he asked.
“Uh, no…”, I replied.
“I go to a nearby park”, he said.
“Why would you do that?”, I asked. I was getting the feeling I was being led, like a sheep to the slaughter, into the punchline of a joke. But that was not the case.
“To get my cock sucked”, he paused, then continued: “By expert cock suckers.” That told me where this was going, so I played along:
“That’s a real thing? You’re not just making that up?”, I responded.
“Sure is. Gay guys hang out at that park at night—and they’re willing and eager to suck cock. Most of them will even let you fuck their faces—and they’re really good at it, too”, he explained.
What a clever way to let me (or whomever) know that “Brock” is “willing and eager” to have his cock sucked..by a guy. He was inviting me to make the first move, now that cameo-me knows he wouldn’t be offended. He’d obviously put a lot of thought into this fantasy scenario. Sneaky bastard! I told you he wasn’t dumb. That said, I had to wonder: How did he know about gay cocksuckers hanging out at parks at night? Had he just made that up? I asked him about that later—but that’s getting ahead of the story.
I decided to be who I had been, before I had met Eric—he had, after all, insisted that I play myself, and the version of me he had specified was obviously the pre-Eric one: “I’ve never done anything like that before”, I said.
“No? You mean you’ve never fucked a girl in the backseat of a car? Or that you’ve never had your cock sucked?”, he asked.
“Neither one”, I replied.
“Have you ever even had sex?”, he asked.
“No, never—not with anyone”, I replied. He wanted the pre-Eric me, so that’s what I gave him.
“So, not only do you have no girlfriend now, you’ve never had one, have you?”, he queried.
“No”, was all I said.
“How old are you, John?”, he asked.
“I’ll be 19 in January”, I replied. In the skit, it’s supposed to be August 1. My birthday actually is January 11: I’m playing myself.
“How did you graduate high school, or celebrate your 18th birthday, sill a virgin?”, he asked. “Don’t you have a sex drive? Sexual fantasies? Do you even masturbate?”
“Well… I do have a sex drive. I do have sexual fantasies. And I do masturbate. But..I just don’t feel worthy, sexually”, I confessed.
“Is that why I’ve caught you staring at the bulge in my pants, more than a few times today?”, asked. “You’re a size queen, because you don’t think you ‘measure up’? Is that it?” The skit was beginning to resemble the first real-life conversation that Eric and I had ever had, a month ago, now. That actually made sense, if you think about it.
“Yeah. That’s pretty much it”, I admitted. This different-but-conceptually-similar “re-enactment” of the conversation between myself and Eric from a month ago was actually an interesting experience. I could see how it might have a positive effect on my libido. [See Book 1, Chapter 1, “Shame And Punishment”]
“Have you ever fantasized about having sex with a guy? Perhaps one who has a big dick—like you wish you had?”, he asked.
“Yes”, I replied.
“I might be willing to make that fantasy real for you, John. Does that sound like something you’d be interested in?”, he asked.
I decided to be less “hard to get” than I had been in real life: “Would this just be one-time thing? Or…?”
“Great question! If you were one of the guys in the park, I’d be perfectly OK with it being a ‘one-time thing.’ But we’re not just two strangers who’ve randomly met in a park: We’re roommates. That’s why I said that I ‘might be willing’ to make your sexual fantasies come true. But here’s the situation: As long as we’re roommates, either there can be no sex between us—at all, ever (and that includes not staring at the bulge in my pants,) or else you’ll have to agree to give me total sexual submission—no pushback, no telling me ‘no’, no objections, no exceptions. Your only way out would be to leave.”
I didn’t respond immediately: I was trying to decide how I wanted to continue the skit, what path I wanted to go down. He mis-interpreted that as my (pretended) resistance to his proposal, so he continued: “I’ll even sweeten the deal for ya’: I’ll pay your share of the rent and the utilities, if you agree to the deal.”
Brock/Eric really wanted me to take the deal, apparently. I realized that, had this been real life, and had I found myself in this exact same situation (assuming also I had never met Eric,) that I would probably take the deal. So, cameo-me agreed to the terms that “Brock” had proposed.
“Brock” had a huge grin. “Excellent!”, he said: Eric and Brock were both quite pleased.
“That means you have to do what I say”, he asserted.
“OK,” I said.
“You shall always address me as ’Sir’”, he said. “So try that again.”
“Yes, sir”, I replied.
“Down on your knees”, he commanded.
I got down on my knees.
He took off his pants and boxer briefs. He was already semi-hard. He walked up to me, and said, “Open wide!”
I opened my mouth, as wide as I could.
He carefully inserted his dick in my mouth—knowing that I was now actually a rather experienced cocksucker—and then brutally forced his way down my throat. He had never done it like that before. It turned me on something fierce—which somewhat surprised me.
He began fucking my face quite vigorously—it was definitely “rough sex.” After a minute or so, he announced: “Just so you know: From now on your mouth is not your mouth—it’s my pussy! And don’t you forget it, bitch!”
He kept that up for 4 orgasms, non stop. I started masturbating myself before he came for the first time. I had never had such powerful orgasms.
The Curtain Falls
But all good things must come to an end. Seeing as it was now just after 5:30 pm, we ended the simulation—or, as ST:TNG would later have it, we “shut down the Holodeck.”
Eric asked, “You OK? Was that too much for you?”
“I’m OK, Sir”, I said—deliberately alluding to the events in the skit. My smile let him know that I was not complaining, but teasing.
He reacted by embracing me in a big, powerful hug, and then kissing me passionately. Very passionately.
Finally, be backed off, and said, “So you’d be OK with doing that again?”, he asked.
“Yes, Sir”, I told him. “Seriously, that was the best sex I’ve ever had.”
The smile on his face was trying to outshine the Sun.
Knowing that there would be a homework check later, we started working on our homework. Thanks to the tutoring I’d been giving Eric in math over the past month, he didn’t need nearly as much help with his math homework as had been the case initially.
When Liam (Eric’s father) got home, and had completed the customary homework-check ritual, I handed him the note from my counselor that specified the date, time and place where I would sit for the SAT test. Knowing that my mother couldn’t take me (she had to work on Saturdays,) he said that he would drive me to and from the community college where the SAT would be administered.
After dinner, we spent more than two hours doing weight training using Eric’s bench press (which was kept in the Svalberg’s garage.) I took note of the fact that we weren’t tiring as quickly, and could tolerate longer training sessions. Also, Eric and I both had increased the maximum weight we were lifting.
We both retired to Eric’s basement bedroom, where I went to sleep in Eric’s arms—right where I belonged.
