This is the fictional memoir of a gay man, told in the first person. Some of the stories in this series are based on actual experiences, usually embellished a lot, as well as completely fictional ones. They depict sex between consenting adult males. If this offends you, do not read them. These are my stories. Please respect the copyright. If you enjoy them, let me know at johntheartist@hotmail.com. Please Contribute to Nifty.org and keep this wonderful resource going!
In the previous chapter, C'est La Vie! 1, I explained how the author decided to write about his gay sex life, starting at the beginning and going forward.
C'est La Vie!: 1970, John Sill
There he was, smiling at me from a bodybuilding ad in the back of a comic book. John Sill. I was fascinated, smitten, couldn't take my eyes off of him. I don't even know where the comic came from. Probably my older brother's. It was also probably a few years old. A lot of comics then had ads appealing to teenage boys. They almost all had some for bodybuilding.
I was twelve. Just beginning to develop "down there." A little pubic hair, my penis getting a bit bigger. New feelings I couldn't explain. I was growing up in a medium-sized city in the Midwest. Nobody I knew talked about sex, least of all my parents or my brothers. I didn't even run around with a group of boys who talked about it. Pretty nerdy, I guess.
Anyway, there I was, spending what seemed hours looking at John Sill. Today I would say that he was hot, but back then, I didn't know what hot meant. He was smiling. He had a crew-cut and an all-American-boy-next-door face. He was wearing a brief bathing suit low on his hips. His hands were on his hips, and fanned out in one hand there were what looked like a series of certificatesÑ-body-building prizes?Ñ-I couldn't tell. One leg forward with the thigh flexed, like he was about to walk out of the page and into my life (didn't I wish!).
The best part was his chest and abs. He was smooth, and his pecs were nice and hard and defined, and his stomach was incredibly flat. And with his elbows out because his hands were on his hips, you could see his incredible lats flaring out on either side of his back beneath his arms.
I didn't focus on the package in his swimsuit much. I didn't know then what promises it might hold. But I don't think it was big. Not small either. Just there.
The best thing though was that he was not so bulked up that he was a freak, like some of the bodybuilding pictures you saw. He seemed to just be an extraordinarily handsome young man. He could have been 17 or 18 or 20. How would I know? He had a body that was beautiful but also said "this is within your reach, you can have a body like this."
I wanted a body like his, but mostly I just wanted to be close to him and touch him. I wanted to feel those muscles, to feel his body against mine. I hardly knew anything about sex, so I didn't fantasize about doing anything sexual with him. I didn't know about sucking and fucking. I couldn't imagine kissing anyone yet, much less a man.
So, sometime later, there I was, lying in my bed, staring at that beautiful specimen of young manhood. I was playing with my penis. It was hard. It wasn't fully developed yet, but it must have been about three inches long when it was erect. I was flicking it back and forth so that it would rub up against the sheet covering me, and it felt good. I didn't even know how to masturbate properly. What a dork! Suddenly, I was overcome with an incredibly pleasurable feeling and this stuff started shooting out of my cock. My God, what was that? I got worried. Had I injured myself? But it felt so good, I couldn't stop, especially when John Sill was there urging me on.
It was a few weeks later that a friend of mine let me in on the secrets of sex, letting me borrow a book his mother had given him in lieu of the "talk" some parents had with their kids (though not mine). The Facts of Life and Love for Teenagers basically laid it all out in matter-of-fact terms, and even touched lightly on homosexuality, prostitution and other topics. So I now knew that I had had an ejaculation of semen: sperm. Now I was worried that if I kept this up, I would deplete my precious supply before I could grow up, get married, and have kids.
At the time, I think I would have willingly married John Sill, and for a few months he was my constant companion, until my friend with the book also introduced me to jerking off together, which we did regularly when our parents were out of the house for a weekend afternoon. We even experimented with getting naked and lying together. We never took it further though, mostly because neither of us knew, or had the imagination to know, what "further" entailed. At any rate, it only lasted a few months before both of us went back to being normal and dating girls.
But I never forgot John Sill. Modified a bit, that is, toned down and a bit less muscular, he became the model for the men that would turn me on for many years: lean, slim, defined, smooth, handsome and not too bulked up.
Since then, I have had many, many men. I am delighted when they can be this ideal guy but, in truth, I like 'em all. I've had great sex with skinny, effeminate guys, and fat, hairy guys and everything in between. By and large it has all been good.
I have met my partners on the street, in clubs and bars, on vacation, at the baths, in class, at work, virtually everywhere. M4M sex has been fun. May it continue forever! I don't know if I owe it all to John Sill, but I still think about him.