The following story is true in every detail. It is a story of an intergenerational gay friendship. Any persons who have had similar experiences who wish to contact me for any reason in regard to this experience, should write me at revans888@excite.com.
I am 45 years old, male, married with two sons, 12 and 14, and one daughter ll. This experience occurred about 20 years ago when I was about 25 and before I was married. I knew at that time that I was a bi-sexual, but I rarely acted out on my yearnings in that regard. I had two years before becoming a junior executive in a large national company, which frequently took me to other cities. I visited New York City about twice a year. On each visit, I was sure to go down to 42nd street and look through the porno video and magazine stores and go into the private video booths, as well as pay to watch live sex shows, both heterosexual and homosexual. What I found would feed my masturbation fantasies, which I did, not only in my hotel room, but in the booths and XXX theaters, as well.
On one afternoon when I was exiting one of the stores, I was approched by a young boy, who I was certain was no older than 10, or perhaps 11 years old. He looked at me and said something like, "I have the biggest cock and tightest ass hole in New York. You want your cock sucked?" I had seen him approach others on the sidewalk, but everyone just passed him by. But I stopped and asked him how old he was, and he said 18. I knew he wasn't close to being 18, and I walked down a few feet and into the next store. A little later, when I came out, he was standing there asking me if I wanted to fuck him. This time, I looked at him very carefully and, while I knew he couln't be older than I originally thought, I noticed his hands and neck were very dirty and his eyes looked so sad and tired. His shirt was open in the front, his pants were missing the top button, and he wore only a pair of very dirty thongs on his feet.
I asked him what his name was, and he said Derek. I asked him if he lived nearby, and he said he didn't live anywhere except with his "clients" every day. Something made me want to know more about this boy and, although I told myself I should know better, I asked him to take a taxi with me to my hotel, which was on 57th Street. He said no because he didn't want to get trapped if I was going to take him to the police or someplace that would be bad. So we walked. I was really rather embarrassed in the elevator to my room with the other occupants looking strangely at me bringing this ragged kid from the street up to my room.
We sat down in my room for awhile talking. He kept wanting to take his clothes off and continued to ask me if I wanted to fuck him or if I wanted to suck him off or if I wanted him to suck me off. I finally told him that nothing was going to happen until he took a bath or a shower. He didn't want to do it, but I told him it was either that or he could get out. He finally agree. He had never operated a shower before, so I got the water set and the soap into the soap dish. I told him I was going to keep the shower door open just a little so I could see and make sure he was washing himself correctly and thoroughly. I had never once in my life felt any interest in young boys or teenagers, but seeing this pathetic youngster trying to wash his young naked body, probably for the first time in Heaven knows when, aroused a bit of longing in me. I had an erection watching him, but his uncircumcised penis remained flacid. I suddenly felt such sympathy and pity for this child, who now seemed so utterly vulnerable. What a sad and hopeless life. I knew he could have objected to the shower and run out of the room back to the street. But he didn't.
When he came out of the shower, he dried himself with a towel and actually smiled at himself in the large mirror over the lavatory. It turned out that his hair wasn't black, as I thought it was; it was actually a light brown. He hadn't worn any underwear, so I gave him a pair of my jockey shorts, which were naturally a little large on him. Then he asked again what I wanted to do with him. Of course, I couldn't do anything to this child, and I told him I couldn't do anything. Then he started to cry and my heart absolutely broke at that moment. I went over and sat on the bed next to him and hugged him very tightly. I told him I loved him and cared about him. His body felt so thin and soft and kind of frail in my arms. I told him to put on the shorts and the rest of his clothes because it was time for him to go. I told him that I was sorry that the shower was all I could give him. Tears were streaming down his cheeks and he was no longer that nasty kid on 42nd Street. He was a real human being, but one who had nothing. I think for a moment he felt he had found someone who would really love him and care for him and he didn't want to leave. But he did leave after I told him I would see him again on the street and we would talk. I really didn't know what else to do with him. I couldn't keep him, I certainly wasn't going to take advantage of his young body for my sexual pleasure, and I just couldn't stand the thought of turning him over to some agency or other.
The next morning, I left the hotel to go to a meeting down in Lower Manhattan, and he was standing outside my hotel on the sidewalk. For some reason, I was so happy to see him. I had felt that I had really abandoned him the day before. I took one look at him and decided right there that I would buy him some clean clothes, and he was willing. We took the bus to a thrift store I knew of and I had him looking like a very handsome young man very quickly. And for once I saw a big smile on his face. And when we crossed the street, he took my hand. Right there, out in public, tears started to well up in my eyes. I almost felt as though he was one of my own sons. Then he asked if we could go back to my hotel room, which we did. When we got there, he said he wanted to thank me and pay me for what I did for him. He opened up the sack in which he was carrying his old dirty clothes and pulled out three dollars and some change from one of the pockets. He put it on top of the chest and said I should take it. I went over and grabbed him and we hugged and hugged and we both cried and cried. I wanted to be the strong adult, but I totally lost it. We kissed each other and he told me that he was glad I told him the day before that I loved him because he loved me too.
Then he said he had to leave and had to see some people. I told him I would like him to stick around until later so I could buy him a good meal. And he said he would be back, but didn't know when. We hugged again and kissed each other like we were father and son.
I stayed around the hotel all evening, but he didn't come back. The next day I left word at the desk to let me know if he came in. Then I went back to 42nd Street to see if perhaps he had gone back there. I looked all day for him. I was in New York for another six days, and I did little else but search for Derek everywhere I could think of. I went back and forth between the hotel and 42nd Street far into the night each day. I could hardly sleep at night, and found myself crying with the thought that something terrible might have befallen that dear young boy. I did love him, and I knew he loved me. But he had disappeared completely. I finally had to leave and fly home.
I have never forgotten Derek. I never stop thinking about what I could have done or should have done to help him and to save him from all that was happening to him. It's been twenty years since I last saw him and in my worst nightmares, I see him as a thiry year old, on the street, homeless, perhaps addicted to alcohol or drugs, and prostituting himself to other men for money. And I wonder if he remembers me. I don't hold out any hope that I will ever find out what happened to Derek, but my tears and thoughts will always be with him. If anyone wishes to talk with me about this, my e-mail is revans888@excite.com