Dock Queen
So many years have passed, and so many men have passed as well, and I'm not feeling too good myself any more, but I thought I'd like to tell this little story before I'm through. It takes place, mostly in the five years before the epidemic hit New York, and revolves around those incredible docks on the West side down around Christopher Street.
I'm a little bit flamboyant, and some of my tricks might even think I'm a woman. I'm very effeminate, small boned, and like to wear makeup. I always kept my hair long, and well cut, so if you didn't see my adam's apple, you might think I wasn't a boy. I left home when I was sixteen, let's see that was about 1962. My dad had had enough of me wearing my sister's dresses, and my mother's makeup. He disowned his faggot son, and kicked me out of our Long Island home.
My mother gave me some cash, and her platinum card, and bless her heart, she told me I could keep it until my Father found out, and to use it wisely. The truth is, I wasn't even sad on that train ride to Manhattan. I knew exactly where I was going, and what I was going to do. The Village awaited, and I was going to come out in all my glory. My troubles didn't start, until I got off the train in Grand Central. I'd been in Manhattan before, with my mother and sister shopping, but I really didn't know much about it. I was wandering around the huge station, wondering how I could get to the Village, when this gorgeous black dude came up and offered me a smoke. I didn't smoke at the time, but he said I looked lonely, and asked me if I needed to talk. I sat with him on one of the benches, and told him my story. He offered me a place to crash, as he called it, and took me there in a yellow cab.
His pad was wonderful, overlooking the city from the twentieth floor of a giant apartment building. He only had one bed, but we fit into it nicely, and he fitted into me nicely as he fucked me my first time. I loved what he was doing for me, and it wasn't until the next morning when he tried to get me to take a shot of H, that I got a little scared. He didn't pressure me, but told me I was really missing out on a heavy trip by not trying the drug. He shot himself up, and while he was nodded out, I slipped out of the apartment and down to the street.
He'd told me about the gay scene in the Village, and how there was lots of money to be made on the streets down there. It had never occurred to me to peddle my ass before, but I saw the wisdom of his idea. I found a room in a cheap hotel where you paid by the day, and hit the streets. I didn't have long to wait. I was standing on Sheridan square, just watching the passersby, when an older man, who had been feeding the pigeons in the park, came up to me and asked if I was selling.
"You buying?" He fondled himself a little, and cupped my asscheek with his hand.
"Yeah. How much?"
"What ever you think it's worth. I've never done this before." God I was honest in those days. He took me to his apartment, and I sucked him off, and then he wanted me to fuck him. Since I'd never done it before, I thought it was hot enough, but he was well over fifty, and smelled like an old man. He gave me twenty bucks, and it had only taken about half an hour. I was elated. Money so easy made my head spin.
My next trick, was younger, in his thirties, and wanted much more for his money. He fucked me several times, and I told him it would cost him ten bucks every time he came after the initial twenty. I ended up with seventy bucks out of him, and felt pretty good about my introduction to prostitution. I thought I knew what I was doing.
The Sheridan Square spot became my favorite hangout, and I liked going into a gay bar frequented by transvestites on the west side of the square. Those girls took me under their wing and taught me a thing or two about drag. I was amazed one night to arrive to see the cops swarming around the place, and all my drag queen friends throwing shit at them. Needless to say, the Stonewall uprising went on to become an important turning point in gay history. I'll tell you, those cops had bitten off more than they could chew with those girls.
I decided to take my show a little further west, and landed down on the corner of Christopher Street and the Westside highway. The trade was a little rougher there at the time, mostly truck drivers after a long day behind the wheel. But their money was good, and I got good enough at sucking cock, that it usually took me less than five minutes to collect my five bucks and a mouthful.
I figured if I could book my time steady, I could make a hundred bucks a night, and I usually did. The scene began to change when gay bars started to come out in the open. The Ramrod, was the first I remember, being openly gay. The guys stormed its doors after work every night, and my income went way up. Hot guys fresh and steamy from the gyms, offices and every other kind of job in Manhattan made their way to Christopher street. Across the highway, was a series of abandoned docks, which naturally filled up every night with guys hunting sex. I made use of the docks a lot, and it allowed my turn around to speed up dramatically. It wasn't long, before I was pulling down two hundred a night.
I had so many stiff cocks down my throat, every night, sometimes it was hard to talk, my vocal cords took such a beating. My best friend, Harvy, told me I'd better cool down a little before I really got sick. I don't know how, but I never took anything like an STD that I ever knew about. I ate well, and took care of myself with vitamins and minerals. A hold over from my mother, who was a health nut.
Sometimes, I'd take a shine to a guy, and invite him back to my place for a night of fun and fucking on the house. I never had a steady bo, but if I liked a guy's package, I'd treat him right. That's how I met Jeremy. He was a Wall Street investment banker, and queer as a three dollar bill, but he looked so butch and straight. He loved the way I dressed up. He called me his androgynous queen, and man could he fuck. His dick was large, about ten inches, and the size of a beer can. He loved plugging my ass, and I loved having him plug it. We stayed together only about a year, but we are still friends. He's invested my earnings for me over the years, and now that I'm too old to trick, I'm set for the rest of my life.
I know a lot of guys who wind up on the street, don't do so well. My thoughts are, I stayed away from pimps and drugs. I ran my own show, and took home all the money. Paying a pimp to find tricks for me just wasn't my style.
By the time I was thirty, my hooking days were pretty much over, and I put together a drag show routine, and performed in clubs around the country. It didn't pay very well, but the sex was good, and I was still having fun. I still hadn't settled down with any one man, but I was starting to feel like I ought to. After finishing my last show in Miami, I flew home to Manhattan, and slept for two days off and on, recouping my strength and energy. The road takes a lot out of you. When I awoke refreshed after my naps, I decided I wanted to see the docks one last time. I'd heard the city was going to demolish them, and another historical gay site would bite the dust.
They were as dark and gloomy as I remembered, and the numbers of men floating through the darkness seemed to have tripled in size since my last visit. Maybe a lot of guys were feeling nostalgic about the docks like I was. I blew a few cocks, on my rounds, and finally, about midnight, took hold of a truly thrilling piece of flesh in the dark.
"Oooh baby, I'd like this buried in my butt." I sucked on it a little, and jacked him with my saliva.
"You got a place to go. I hate fucking here on the docks. The guys all want to participate."
"Sure honey, just come with me. I live close by." In the light, I saw he was a dream boat. Taller than me, but not huge, well built, and muscular. He had the ruddy good looks of someone who was out doors a lot. He told me he was a potato farmer from Long Island, and didn't get into town much. When he'd read the docks were being torn down, he had to come in and hunt in them one more time. He'd frequented them when he was a student at NYU. He was my age now, and we made a cute couple.
When I got him in my bed, I sucked him using every trick I'd ever learned to make him have the finest experience of cocksucking he could remember. When he came, he blasted my mouth full of the most incredible tasting cream I could remember. When I commented on it, he said maybe it was because he was a vegetarian.
When he finally got around to sticking his thing in me, words lost all meaning. He fucked like a master, and we kept it up for hours, always close, but never quite tipping the scales. As the sun was beginning to brighten the sky, he whispered in my ear he thought he could love a man with such a talented ass and mouth. When he came, I came with him, and the passion was terrific. He stayed in my asshole, and we fell asleep like that and didn't wake up until after eleven, when he started fucking me again. I don't think he'd ever been out of me the whole time.
He invited me out to his farm on the island, and I spent the week there. We made such a fine pair of spoons in the bed, we couldn't wait to hit the sack after supper every night. He invited me to become his partner, and I didn't take a second before saying yes. We've been together ten years this September, and are as monogamous in our relationship as any old married couple.
Oh, we occasionally drive over to the mall in Patchogue, and cruise for some fresh meat. It's fun, to do some unsuspecting kid we've picked up, with Bill, my partner, dressed like a farmer, and me dressed like a farmer's wife. The trick usually thinks it's a bi scene, but when Bill's plugging his ass, and I whip out my stiff dick, and shove it in his mouth, the kid usually freaks.