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BASTARDS WHO FUCKED OVER ME 9
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This just in:
Date: Sun, 14 Jul 1996 12:17:25 -0400 (EDT)
From:
To: Paul Frederick Schnellbecher
Newsgroups: alt.tasteless
Subject: Re: Bastards Who Fucked over Me 5/6/7/8
Hey you lucky bastard - I never got any dick until I was 21.
Date: Sun, 14 Jul 1996 09:23:20 -0700 (PDT)
From: Paul Frederick Schnellbecher
To:
Subject: Re: Bastards Who Fucked over Me 5/6/7/8
Please believe me, if I'd known you when I was being a teenaged
whore, you would have gotten sooooo lucky.
You could get lucky now...
:*
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9 Keith in the little house and his demise.
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The Golden Gardens Tract was semi-rural. There were some lots up
to three acres in size. The owners of those often raised
livestock for extra income or food. Rabbit, goat, and calf
raising were common. Chickens were everywhere. I don't think
anyone seriously used an alarm clock... Along with all this
cacophony came its logical extension; all the kids who mattered
were in 4H.
The four Hs were Head, Hands, Heart, and Health. Keith raised a
calf. His calf once mistook my finger for a teat and bit me.
From that time I have felt sorry for cows. I didn't really want
to raise anything but I did want to hang around with the "good"
kids. Since 4H was basically a farm and ranch boys and girls
club sponsored by the county agricultural agent, I did the
logical and expected thing; I hung with the girls and learned to
make biscuits.
The neighborhood was split. There were the white kids and the
Mexican kids. I don't think any of the Mexican kids took part in
4H. Then there were the Okies. Freddy and his cousin Frederick
were part of the Okies. Gilbert and George were in the Mexican
bunch. Had Lloyd stayed in the neighborhood longer, I think he
would have been a white kid and not have been classed with the
Okies which he really was. Gee, we were a fuckin' United Nations
and I was the ambassador of harlotry. And we had all the
classist bullshit to go along with it. But when you're livin'
large on the top o' the barge, you don't really give a shit.
Keith also had a motorcycle. It wasn't as big and impressive as
Maynard's but it was wheels. It wasn't in too good of a shape
either because they were always tinkering with it. I got to
observe Keith quite closely because I was over there rolling out
dough with his sisters. We were bound and determined that one of
us was going to take a ribbon at the county fair. Keith's mother
thought I was kewl. I had a standing invitation to come over
there to watch teevee any time I wanted. My old man didn't
believe in teevee, so I had to go to the neighbors. I could play
their new piano, too, so I was welcome around there for that
also.
Keith and his brother had a bunkhouse some distance away from the
main house. The only downer was its proximity to the corral, as
we called the animal pens. The place was furnished with its own
teevee set and had a bathroom so they didn't have to run to the
main house. Their father was a serious alky, though it didn't
dawn on me at the time. I just knew he finished off a half
bottle of vodka about every time I was over there in the evening
to watch the tube.
After the nine o'clock variety show was over, pop would clank off
to the main house with his empty. He was a construction engineer
and had to be up early. Brother Chuck was often away, so this
left Keith and me there alone to watch the ten o'clock news and
see the outrageous commercials staged by Scottsdale Lincoln
Mercury. The owner and his has-been Grade B movie actress wife
did their own commercials live. We watched them avidly for the
inevitable on-camera fuck-ups.
I usually went home right after the news because we, too, had to
get up for school in the morning. But this night Keith asked me
to stay a little longer. A chill ran up my back. I hoped
against hope I knew what he wanted even though it was beginning
to distress me that whenever I was approached by a young male
from the nieghborhood, he had One Thing on his mind. It was like
I wasn't good enough for anything but a quick shag.
In Keith's case, I didn't feel so bad. He was quite a looker.
He had curly sandy-blond hair, grey-blue eyes, and a compact,
powerful build. He filled out the butt of Levi 501s better than
anyone I knew except Gilbert. Keith said he'd heard talk about
me and Freddy and wanted to know if it was true. My fame had
spread farther than my buns, so there was no point in lying.
Yeah, Freddy and I ... Had A Thing Going. (Figure it out for
yourself, I thought.) Keith said, I heard you guys broke up cuz
his old man got wise.
I didn't want to go into it. I just agreed with that and let it
go. So I guess you want me to get out, now, huh, Keith? No, no,
I want you to stay a while. Your folks won't get pissed, will
they? Well, I don't think so... C'mere, he said. I went over
and sat with him on the side of his bed. Keith put his arm
around me and said, I dunno if you'll go for this, but-- And he
kissed me on the cheek. I was shocked. Freddy and I and Gilbert
and I had gotten plenty involved at times, but there was a line
beyond which we did not go. We did not display affection. Don't
get me wrong; I wanted to -- desperately so, but I didn't want to
frighten them away. Using a queer and being a queer were too
distinctly different things in early 60s Arizona!
Keith squeezed me to him and continued, I always sorta wondered
about you and I hoped you were, uh, like me and everything, but I
didn't know how to make anything happen. He continued, Until I
figured out you were this way too, I thought I was the only guy
who felt like this -- I couldn't never tell nobody how I felt.
My old man told me once about a bull they had back in "Missoura"
that tried to mount other bulls. They shot the bull. I thought
they might shoot me, too, if they found out I was queer. And
then here you was prancin' your ass all over the neighborhood
gettin' whoever you wanted and, dammit! -- I wanted some of that
stuff too.
Well, Keith, I said, if you want it, you got it. What do you
want to do about it? He said, Well, I don't know. I guess I
could, uh, fuck you up the butt but I heard getting your dick
sucked was awful nice too. Keith, I said, you can have both. He
gave an enormous sigh and laid back on his bed and closed his
eyes. Well, uh, he stuttered, How do we, uh, start...? Like
this, I said. I laid down beside him and ran my fingers through
his hair, watching it spring back from my raking through. I
returned the kiss on the cheek and could taste the salt from his
perspiration. He didn't flinch, so I made very bold and took his
pouty lower lip between mine and gave him a tender kiss.
Keith threw his free arm around me holding the liplock for a very
long time. I guess neither of us knew about swapping spit or
tongue action because we didn't do that. We just held onto each
other. I felt his broad, strong back through his teeshirt and
noted the damp spot at the base of his spine. He brought his
hand around my side and discovered my right booblet. He began
kneading it much as I had been kneading biscuit dough earlier
that afternoon. I felt something stiff poking into my thigh.
He broke the kiss and whispered, Open your shirt. I did and he
reached in to pull up my teeshirt. When my quarter-sized areole
came into view, he fastened onto it just like a hungry calf. I
couldn't believe this was happening to me. I was afraid to feel
around too much for fear of alarming him, but I wanted so much to
explore all of him. I began by tracing his ears with my thumbs
and forefingers and carressing his neck. I rubbed his shoulder
and pulled up his tee so I could feel his chest. His nipple was
already erect and willing.
Whatever you can do with a thumb and one finger to a pea without
damaging it, I did with his tit and he loved it. Pretty soon he
was trying to get both of mine to stretch enough to go into his
mouth at once! I played with his other one and played my fingers
over his slightly rippled belly. I traced the fine line of down
that disappeared into his Levis. I fumbled with the top button.
Keith popped the button and the waistband of his shorts came into
view. Right after, a wonderfully hot, silky pink helmetcreature
poked up and out. There was a tear in its eye. I wanted to
comfort it.
I pressed on his forehead to break him away from sucking my tits
and told him to move up higher on the bed. He did and laid on
his back. I opened the rest of his pants buttons and reached
into the fly of his briefs to take hold of the stalk rooted
inside. I gave its resilient hardness a squeeze and brought it
out of confinement. Keith scooped up his nuts and brought them
out for some air, too. My mouth was literally drooling with
anticipation of choking on that beautiful cock. I got on that
thing and had balls on my chin in short order.
No sooner had I got a good rhythm established than he pulled his
meat right out of my mouth whispering, Wait, I'll cum too fast.
He got up and began stripping. I took the cue and did the same.
My little dick was beating a tatoo against his thigh and his was
mashed up between our bellies. The contact of so much skin was
electrifying. I took hold of his buttcheeks and said, Let me
finish sucking you; I want to make you shoot.
He stood in front of me and held my head in his hands while I
again enveloped his love stick. Both of us set about bobbing and
moving and moaning and groaning. I can't say I get off from
sucking dick, but I wanted Keith and I was having him and I felt
powerful making him writhe the way he was. He suddenly busted a
nut into my throat and almost choked me because I wasn't prepared
for the blast of salty seed. I swallowed it much as one would
the goo of an oyster and tried to hold onto his prong. It and he
were too pretty and I didn't want to let go. He made me release
him because his dick gets sensitive right after. He threw
himself down on the bed next to me and we watched his cock
collapse into a piece of limp chickenmeat.
I wasn't near done with him. I figured it's already so late that
my old man is going to pitch a bitch that will wake up the
neighbors when I do get in, so why not make it count? Keith, I
said, turn over; I want to do something special for you. He
wasn't sure whether I had in mind to fuck him or what. But he
didn't get hostile; he just watched me carefully. I got on my
knees on the floor and pulled his butt to the edge of the bed. I
spread his buttcheeks with my palms and rolled my tongue into a
cylinder.
When I touched his Venusian portal, he flinched and groaned and
looked back to see what I was doing. Oh, God, he said, Nobody
ever did _that_ before! He looked worried and said, Where did
you learn to do dirty shit like that? I said, It ain't dirty if
you wash it once in a while, and Don't you like it? Oh, yeah! --
it's great, he said. Then shut up and tell me how good I am, I
said. I fell back to raping his hole with my tongue. Keith was
carrying on like a madman, Oh damn Oh Jesus Oh fuck who taught
you to do this I love it Oh shit fuck--
I felt him reach under himself and adjust his cock. I figured if
there is any way at all to raise the phallic dead, a good
tonguejob would do it. I gotta make you stop, dammit, he said.
You're gonna make me pop another load and I want to bury this one
up that fat ass of yours. I had no objections... He pulled back
the covers on the bed and said Get in. I did and he joined me.
He opened the bedstand drawer and felt around for something. Out
came a jar of cold cream. I use this to jack off with, he said.
It ought to work for fucking grease, don't you think? I grunted
assent. He spread my feet with one of his and climbed on my
back.
I spread my butt and threw it up a little and muttered, Give it
to me. He raked his cock up my crack and instinctively knew
right where to stop and push. My greedy hole swallowed his meat
like I was made of quicksand. He came in me twice. I maneuvered
my cavity in such a way to put my P-spot front and center. He
triggered my prostate and I climaxed with great shudders. We
remained connected and recovering for some minutes. Then Keith
kissed me on the neck and slowly withdrew his wornout tool.
Damn! -- I'd forgotten the time! I hurredly dressed, gave him
another too-quick smooch and was out of there for my house.
The doors were locked when I got home. I carried no key. I went
to the bedroom window hoping to awaken my mother to let me in.
No such luck. Here comes daddy! He hollered. He ranted. He
got red in the face. But he didn't lay a finger on me. I guess
he figured I was too old for that or maybe he thought it just
wouldn't do any good. I got undressed for the second time that
night and went in the john to take a leak. Instead I sat on the
throne and drained lovejuice out of my happy starfish.
As I sat there, a pair of tunes kept circulating around in my
head. One of them began to bother me as I was walking down the
unpaved street toward my house. There were no sidewalks and no
streetlights. The only sounds were my footsteps crunching in the
gravel and an ocassional flutter of a chicken or a rabbit in a
corral somewhere close. The only light was a half moon and some
brilliant stars. I got in my own bed and reached into the bench
of the organ I slept next to. I dug out a sheet of music paper
and a ballpoint. By flashlight I put down the two themes I would
the next day weave into a voluntary I played the following Sunday
in church.
Keith and I set up a regular routine of news watching and
starfish worship. He and Maynard finally got that old put-put
running. I enjoyed immensely getting on the back of it, sitting
pressed up against Keith so tightly. With two of us on it, it
wouldn't go very fast, but it was fun and it gave me the excuse
to lock my arms around him and secretly clench and release,
clench and release. Doing that alone would almost always put his
mind exactly where I wanted it to be: Right back in my gutter!
Phoenix got its first honest-to-Glub freeway section opened
several months after Keith and I became an exclusive if secret
item. Keith took a job sacking groceries and taking them out to
customers's cars at the big independent grocery in South Phoenix.
This store undercut the chains stores so much that people drove
in from well-heeled suburbs to shop there. Keith, with his mild
manner and winning smile, did great with the tips he wasn't
supposed to accept. (If the rabid Babbletists who owned the
store thought any of their bag boys were hung up on customer
service, they were just nuts.) Keith got a rebuilt engine for
his motorcycle and it could really move now.
He took it out on the new stretch of freeway. He wasn't supposed
to be there because the road wasn't open officially. But he
wanted to see what his machine would do, so he opened it up. He
probably hit a rock. They found what was left of the motorcycle
a quarter mile from where he landed. His family weren't much in
the way of churchgoers. I don't know whatever possessed them to
call up the minister of the church I played in. Anyway, I had to
play organ at my own lover's funeral. That was the most
difficult hour of my life. Being present at my mother's funeral
was much easier though it was no picnic. Keith, I've had two
other serious lovers since you. Bob and I just treated each
other badly and what we had fell apart. Baby Paul and I had a
meeting of minds I never expect to experience with anyone again,
but he walked out on me Christmas Eve when I was playing High
Mass and getting zonked on the incense. I've looked long and
I've looked far. There is no one who can ever take your place.
You alone put some music in my soul.
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