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                    BASTARDS WHO FUCKED OVER ME
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13   Gary and his beautiful uncut meat

It just now took me over thirty years to make a connection.  I
don't know how Jim of the ROTC had me figured out and had been
waiting and watching for his chance.  The only possible way he
might have known other than full-bore Gaydar is the he also knew
Gary who happened also to be in the ROTC program.  I have no
knowledge of their association, if any.

Gary went to the church I played in during high school.  He was
sort of a lone wolf.  He nominally kept a girlfriend around and
claimed to fuck her ocassionally, but most of his time was taken
up working at the gas station across the street from the church.

Gary was quite industrious.  He also did a lot of the janitorial
work around the church.  One afternoon I was in the office typing
out a list of service music titles I wanted in the bulletin for
the next quarter (can this queen plan ahead, or what?) when Gary
came in and flopped down in the easy chair across from the desk
and typewriter.

He started in complaining about how he took his girlfriend to the
football game last night, parked with her after, and tried to
make her but she wouldn't do anything but give him half a
handjob.  He whined that she always leaves him with blueballs.
Just to be shocking, I countered with the observation that if
boys just did it with boys, they'd probably all get what they
want as often as they want and be a lot happier.  Gary's non-
sequitur question was, Well, where would we get babies?  I
replied, Well, don't look at me!

He said when he came home last night, he humped his pillow til he
got some relief.  I asked him How did you hide the evidence.  Oh,
he said, I put on a rubber.  A what?  (I always parked my
handkerchief under my pillow in preparation for those tender
moments.)  A rubber.  Don't you know _anything_?  No, I guess I
don't, smart ass.  So, what's a -- then I remembered some of the
nasty talk we did in junior high about wearing a rubber to fuck a
girl.  So I said, What do you wear a rubber for if you're not
fucking a girl?  Oh, he said, a rubber catches the jizz.  Oh, I
said, deductively reasoning, It catches the jizz and you don't
get it on your pillow.  Righto, Einstein, Gary said.

Gary fished around in his pocket and pulled out what appeared to
be a Chapstick.  He popped the top off and pulled out a thing
that looked like a ring of dough.  This is a rubber, he said.
Next he unzipped his pants.  I was about to have cats.  Don't
worry, he said, the doors are locked.  He reached in and pulled
out his uncut dick.  It looked like Gilbert's except that Gary's
was quite whiteboy pink.  But it had the same hood on its face.

He pulled the hood back a ways and set the "ring of dough" on the
end of his meat and started rolling it onto his stiffening cock.
He began stroking his dick up and down.  His cock took up nearly
the whole length of the rubber and stretched it out slightly.  I
was fascinated.  He tossed the remaining one to me and said,
Here, try one on.  I dug around and found my tiny meat and played
follow the leader.  I took up maybe half the length of it but it
was so loose it wanted to fall off my prong.

Gary was getting into it with his eyes closed and thrusting his
hips slightly as he whacked.  I decided I might as well get with
it, so, using Gary (unbeknowst to him) as wanking inspiration, I
had whipped up a batch of spoo in a couple of minutes.  Though it
was probably the least erotic, it was the finest dual climax I
ever participated in.  I blew a few drops of goo into the top of
the rubber but Gary quite filled his to the point of the baby
batter running down the shaft of his dick.  He mopped himself up
with some clean rags kept on hand for the mimeograph.  We flushed
the latex evidence down the toilet off the corridor.

Naturally (or unnaturally) I propositioned him, but Gary would
never play.