We are back with the next piece of my personal history—trying, I guess, to figure out how I became the man I am today. Last time, Rob and I had gone our separate ways at the end of my junior year for a summer of work. I had slept with my roommate in Texas, but was relieved, though I wouldn’t have said it, to fly home to Michigan…
It was a happy reunion. Almost as if we hadn’t been apart for close
to three months. Rob and I picked up
right where we’d left off as he pulled his huge Dodge, crammed with just about
all of his worldly goods, into my parent’s driveway. We had to work fast to find an apartment back
in our college town. My father had
actually been easy to convince to get me out of the dorms and try apartment
living for my senior year.
Rob had always lived in cramped quarters during his
American university days. He really
wanted to be in an apartment complex. We
found one by chance. It was within
walking distance from the campus, which was important to me as I had no car. Even better, it was a brand-new construction
and we would be the very first tenants in the building.
Rob handled all the paperwork, with me watching and learning. There were a lot of life skills I needed to
learn—and I kept right on absorbing them.
He was an effortless teacher—once he got used to the idea.
We settled in just in time for school to begin. I loved my senior year. Rob, though older, was not quite there
yet. He’d changed majors, losing a huge
amount of credits in the process. He
also had to work as well as go to class.
Life was good in our new home.
Not without conflict—like any two people living together,
we could rub each other the wrong way. He
loved to cook. So did I. We tried working together preparing our first
supper there—whoops! I still can hear
his stentorian voice saying: “I just stirred that…” as I raised a lid once too
often. We quickly fixed the issue by
alternating nights. We also, wisely,
kept our finances separate. He could and
did buy everything. I was the exact
opposite.
The sex was good.
Not especially varied, but I loved sharing a bed. Some 69—get off in each other’s mouths for minimal
clean up, roll over and go to sleep. It
was perfect for 21-year- old me. Rob
still had a roving eye. I made peace
with it. Another man’s cock in his mouth
for a few minutes didn’t really bother me.
I would prefer that he’d bring him home for the both of us, but that
didn’t happen. Yet.
I did meet the woman he’d had an affair with right
after his divorce. We stumbled on her at some community theatre performance we
were all attending. While Rob went to the restroom, she told me she could never
believe he was gay. She said a few other
choice things to me. When Rob returned
and picked up on how she was taking it, he made a point of telling her about how
he loved the size of my penis. They
never saw each other again.
There was a true adult bookstore in our college town. We ventured in. We found a rather hardcore gay magazine. Rob bought it and we had hours of adventures—using
it to fuel our own sex. It was likely
the first time I’d seen three men in a bed together—at least I don’t remember
any multiples in the mags from my brother.
Rob saw one of our professors, occasionally, too. In ‘that’ way. They both were drinkers and once inhibitions
were down, they had oral sex. I knew this
had started before I’d met Rob—and it seemed like a logical outlet. Somehow, I ended up on a field trip with the
same professor that involved an overnight.
I saw the professor naked—and he was my size. I instantly knew why Rob was attracted…And
yes, I sampled that matched cock and he mine.
Though only for a moment before he went off to another student in
another room…
Ah, the 1970’s…
*
In the middle of the winter of 1979, Rob asked if I
had ever had sex with a woman. I told
him, truthfully, no. I knew I was
attracted to men—and went with it. Having
been married briefly and then the affair with the married woman mentioned above,
he rather offhandedly suggested it wouldn’t be a bad idea to try it and make
sure.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to bother. He mentioned a woman in the drama department. She’d broken up with her high school
boyfriend and was going through all the gay men in the department, trying to
flip them. I found it more funny than
sexy…
The thought stuck.
I talked to the young woman. She
was enthusiastic. (I’m sure Rob had told
her I was big….) We arranged a
time. Rob helped put fresh sheets on the
bed and went to the bar, telling me to have fun. Sheryl arrived. We talked.
She was on birth control and hated condoms. In those pre-HIV days, we didn’t think any farther. We talked more and went for it. She was my age, a blond and big boned. She told me my tongue work on her breasts was
great. I wanted to go lower, but she
hated cunnilingus—it was too intense for her.
She sucked me. I made encouraging
noises, but realized for the first time how much bigger men’s mouths are—and missed
the roominess. I fingered her and we
fucked. It all went fine. And I didn’t repeat it for years and years…
Much more interesting was a handsome young man in the
show I was directing and Rob was musically directing, as well as acting in
it. We both wanted him. He seemed straight but bendable. Rob made play after play for him—and was always
rebuffed. I had purchased my Dad’s old car
when he replaced it. I offered to take
the young man home. He agreed. He directed me out into the countryside, told
me to park and suck his dick—‘like I know you want…’
I did. Nothing
special. But I’d won. And told Rob the moment I got home. He was grumpy, which surprised me as he would
done the guy in a heartbeat and told me instantly if he’d won. It proved to be all fine---but we never did
that particular thing again…
Before we knew it, it was my graduation. We both had summer theatre jobs. Rob was going back to where he’d worked
before. I was working in Michigan this
year. We’d be close enough to actually
see each other if there was any time to get away.
We closed up the apartment. We had been incredibly
happy there. I can still see it…the only
place we would be able to truly call home for a very long time as two young men
navigated the arts in the Midwest.
*
Until I hit publish, I didn't even remember this was Valentine's Day--a holiday we used as an excuse to send Falcon's naked Valentine's Day cards to each other. Rob would be in my life for another 29 years.
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