He Did It In My Mouth_(1)

Had Cal approached me 18 months earlier, I would not have understood what he wanted and I would have found it easy to flee. But that changed about 18 months earlier when an older friend explained to me that “cocksucker” was more than a derisive word used by males to provoke other males. Instead, I was in awe of the explanation that some males actually suck on the cocks of other males and that is how the word “cocksucker” had come into being. Honestly, I felt dizzy just hearing that simple explanation and all I could think about was someday being able to suck on a hard cock, even though I had no desire to earn the label of “queer” or “homo” or anything of the sort.

I thought about it all of the time and fantasized nightly to thoughts of having one of those hard things in my mouth, but I was a bit shy and lacked confidence and didn’t imagine that I would ever actually do it.

In fact, when I began going to the Basement after school to plays games with others my age, I would never have anticipated that such an environment would become the place where it would happen.

The Basement was under what had formerly been a recreational center and an after-school center before it failed financially and was purchased by business people for offices. As a concession for the many kids who would otherwise be displaced and unsupervised, kids like me, the new owners cleared the Basement and permitted us to congregate there as long as we didn’t vandalize it which was not likely to happen since we were grateful for the shelter and also because we often had oversight by a parent or a grandparent.

Although I was a boy, I found it much more to my liking to hang out with girls who came to the Basement. They were far less aggressive and confrontational and I just found it easier to relate to them. Taylor was a cute girl and we became friends although not close enough that we would hang out together away from the Basement.

Cal was Taylor’s grandfather. He didn’t come to the Basement at all during my first two weeks there. Then, he came several times a week and sometimes, he came every day.

I liked him. He was kind and somewhat affable. He talked to me a lot and I felt pride that he paid more attention to me than the others. A couple of weeks after first meeting him, I left the Basement earlier than usual and once outside, he called to me and talked about things I don’t remember except for one part that I remember very clearly—he said I was a “very pretty boy”.

When I was very young, I was often mistaken for being a girl. When people would meet one of my parents, they would sometimes say, “And, what a pretty little girl you have”, or they would ask me, “What is your name little girl?” I can’t count the times that happened but I can say that I loved it and wanted it.

So, when Cal said I was a pretty boy, those feelings surged quickly. I thanked him and smiled and felt such great warmth and pride that he had said that. I spent the night trying to sort out crazy notions that collided with each other in my head. I could not get one thought to stop long enough for me to think it through because it too soon was bounced out of place by another thought. I liked what he had said but I could not figure out why.

The time after he called me a pretty boy, he said the phrase that I have never forgotten. In fact, as I write this, I can still see his face and hear the inflection in his voice. He said, “You are a pretty boy, Brynn. And, you have a very pretty little mouth.”

My knees nearly gave out and I found it hard to breathe. The words. That phrase. “You have a very pretty little mouth.” I think I gasped but I didn’t have enough control of my faculties to remember clearly. However, I am certain I gasped inside. His phrase literally took my breath away.

I don’t remember what I might have said but I know I smiled after he spoke. Smiling came easy. Talking was more difficult. But then came the question, what else might I have done that I didn’t remember? What if I said “thank you”? Would he take that as an invitation to do more? I hoped for that but I also had some hesitation and that hesitation came down to one thing:

Taylor!

This was Taylor’s grandfather! How could I possibly even fantasize about getting on my knees before her grandfather and sucking on her grandfather’s penis? She was my friend! How would I ever face her and how much would she hate me if she ever found out.

I was susceptible to attention from older men and I suppose some of it could be a daddy-issue thing but I also know that I was born submissive and that makes me gravitate towards men who symbolize control, such as men who are much older or much bigger or very aggressive.

It is very much about power and control. The dominant/controller seeks power and a major part of their sexual quest and satisfaction comes from a sense of power over their vanquished partner. The submissive seeks to surrender to the power and sexual needs of the superior, dominant, controlling, stronger male. The greater the differences are between a dominant/controller and a weak/submissive in age and size and experience, the more likely they are to be drawn to each other. The greater the differential, the more they are attracted—generally speaking. Although I didn’t know about the philosophy of those things, my submissiveness was present and being in the presence of a man like Cal, tapped on those submissive traits.

The following week, on a day when Taylor was not there, Cal caught me isolated from the others for a few seconds and approached me and bent over to my ear and whispered, “I would love to drive you home tonight. We can talk. Okay? Don’t walk. I’ll drive you.”

He drove an older four-door. Quite a big car. It was nice but it had seen its years. His voice and mannerisms were calm. Said he just wanted to have a chance to talk with me. He drove to a cul-de-sac that had been cleared for construction although construction had not yet started.

I can’t say I remember all that he said but I do remember not feeling any alarm or sense of danger. He was pleasant and non-threatening. I do know the subject matter but I don’t know the exact words or sequence of how he talked. Essentially, he said again that he liked pretty boys with pretty mouths and “boys who are like girls”.

We talked on following days, sometimes outside of the Basement in a mini-park area.