You know, I've never seen anyone write about how "Doms/subs" are born not made, or made not born. It's one of those debates we could have for hours, like what came first, the chicken or the egg? Well, recently, something happened that made it ALL come back to me: how I had learned to be a DOM. Since the man who trained me isn't around anymore, well, this is dedicated to tim. You first have to know what sparked the memories. Maybe you read at some point that humongous novel by Marcel Proust, where he dips a madeleine cake into a cup of lime blossom tea, and immediately remembers 3000 pages of some of (in my opinion), the most boring French ever written. Others will disagree that's fine. My point is: you never know what brings up memories. And for me, it was the smell of gasoline.
Many, MANY years ago, while I was still in high school, my stepfather came home one day and called me to the living room. "John, I have good news. I found you a summer job." Well, I wasn't LOOKING for a summer job, so this wasn't really terrific news. And it got worse. "Oh, thank you," I answered. "What's the job?" "My buddy Carmine has a gas station. He needs someone to pump gas, clean the place, that kind of stuff. 7-5, 6 days a week" "Thanks Ernie," I answered, "but I think I'll pass." Ernie weighed in at 280 and the smack across my face knocked me kind of flat. He and I never had a good relationship, and I just looked at him and said "that was your last free shot. Next time you try, you better kill me, because I'll kill you." Well, the good news is, he never hit me again. The BAD news is that he had already discussed it with my mother, and it was a done deal. So, two days later, we drove off to meet Carmine and his father (Carmine Senior, who owned the place with him), and three days later, I was , as Tina Turner says "pumping a lotta tank." I pumped gas, did oil changes, changed air filters, you name it. Anything that didn't need serious mechanical training was my job. And I did it all. Did I ever like the job? Not really. Did I like the money? Hell yeah. I got paid off the books: 2 bucks an hour, plus any tips, were mine. So, for a 17 year old in the 70s, bringing in 120 plus bucks every week, made me feel like Rockefeller. And truth be told, I learned a lot on that job. For example? Who were the worst tippers? The Cadillac drivers. Who were the best? The blue collar guys in their Camaros and falcons and working class cars. Standard tip for doing windows or checking tires was a quarter. Many of these guys would drop a buck in my pocket, or buy me lunch, etc. Now, at the time, while I didn't know WHERE my sexuality was taking me, on a scale of 1-100, my hormone level was about 7500. Surrounded by guys - yeah it was all guys - and with men coming in all day long, it was hard NOT to fantasize. I had more than my share. And of course, the older guys had something to say about everything and everyone. One of the guys they talked about a lot, was tim. tim was a regular at the station - he lived not far from it, I learned eventually. It was the 70s, so he had a mullet - which one of you who were around, didn't, so don't judge. He's come in twice a week for gas, and once every six weeks to get a quart of oil (always the good stuff). He worked as a motorcycle repairman, so he did major repairs himself, but since I had been told to "work hard and be good," he got the same treatment everyone else did: his windows got washed, his tires got checked, his oil got checked "just in case," and so forth. And he was one of the guys who always slipped me a dollar. He was good looking in a very blue collar way: like I say, everyone had mullets, but he also had a moustache, and he was always dressed pretty much the same way: button fly jeans, white sneakers, and a tucked in , printed t shirt, usually for some motorcycle company, or cigarettes (yes, he smoked. We all did in the 70s), or Seven-up, etc . Those t shirt fit him so snugly, that they accented his biceps, pushed out his pecs, and showed that when he went home, tim used weights. Sometimes, other people know you're gay before you do. The guys at work would razz me when he came in. "JOHNNY. Your boyfriend is here!" I didn't really care. I liked being around him . He was pleasant without being overbearing, he was handsome, and he wore... musk. Yes musk. DON'T JUDGE. IT WAS THE 70s!!!!! One day he asked me what I was planning to do with myself. I told him I was applying to college and if I got in, I'd be leaving for school in a year and a half. "GOOD FOR YOU." He said. "Get out of here if you can." He smiled, and then handed me the dollar he always did. No one knew for sure if he were gay. We just teased it out, over and over again. I began to develop a crush on him. More than one bunch of paper towel went into the trash after I thought about being in bed with tim (what we would DO in bed, I had no idea) Then one day, tim just stopped coming. He came in for gas on Tuesdays and Fridays, always just about 2pm, and when he didn't show up on the Friday, I wondered if he were ok. When he didn't show up on Tuesday, and the guys started teasing me about "did your boyfriend leave you, hon?" I really did get nervous. But life "is what it is," and I didn't think about it after that.
Then one day - NOT Tuesday or Friday - tim's car came in. Only tim wasn't driving it. A very thin, tall guy, with hair much longer than a mullet, reflector glasses, a dark black moustache, a dark, messy beard, and really ratty clothes came out of the car. I walked over "Hey, can I help ya?" He looked at me. "You're Johnny, aren't you?" "Yes Sir," I answered tentatively He shook his head. "Yeah, tim told me you're the hardest worker here." "Well, thank you Sir. How is tim? We haven't seen him in a while." "Yeah... he wouldn't tell you this - don't let him know I told you either - his family is in Colorado, and his mom is very sick. He went out to see if he could do anything. " He smiled and laughed a little. "He didn't want me to go because, well, we didn't think his mother could stand to see us together. It might have killed her."' "Oh. I see." I said. "By the way, my name is Earl." He held out his hand." "It's nice to meet you Earl, and I'm glad tim's ok. The car'll need its quart of oil in two weeks, so don't forget." I filled up the tank, did my usual stuff, and then Earl smiled again as he stuffed a buck in my hand. "tim told me he always gives you a buck." "He does, but this is unnecessary Sir." Earl smiled "If someone gives you money kid, take it. Take care. I think he'll be back next week."
Back in the station, of course I got grilled. "So, who's that Johnny? You're RIVAL? Or is it tim's hubby?" Yeah, everyone had a good laugh. I just blushed. I had SOME idea of their relationship, but again, it wasn't all that clear to me. Earl had been very nice to me, but I hated him: he was with MY tim. I jerked off thinking about some wrestler that night - maybe Bruno Sammartino or someone like that.
Well, Earl brought in the car a few times after that. His outfits changed, but he always had the look of an alley cat, as my mother would've said. Then one day, the car drove in, and they were BOTH in the car. Earl was driving. "HEY TIM" I was usually much more reserved , but I was so glad to see him. He smiled. "DId you miss me Johnny?" "A lot Sir. A real lot. " "Did Earl treat you well?" "I treated him as well as I treat you, tim." "Well... ok..." There was clearly a joke that I didn't get, but it passed. "Fill er up?" I asked. "Fill er up, Johnny?" tim answered. I may have been wrong, but I THOUGHT I heard Earl say to tim "Someone's gonna get filled up today," and see tim smile.
So my college applications went in, I got accepted, and I gave notice to the filling station. I told a few of the regular customers, including the snooty rich lady who drove the Cadillac, and insisted that I was her white wall tires every trip, after I had filled the front tires with "26 pounds" and the back tires with "25". When tim and Earl drove in, I shook both of their hands and told them that I was going off to school in a week. I saw them both smile. "You're special Johnny" tim said, and Earl echoed it "yeah, you are. Give them HELL. Come back and see us when you're a genius."
I didn't see any of that crowd for six years. I went off to school, got my college degree, and then my MSW. And then, disproving the line "You can't go home again, " I DID go home again. My stepfather, wretch that he was, had passed when I was in school, and my mom was on her own. I moved my stuff back in so that I could apply for jobs, take a bit of a break, and not have to spend rent money. I got a job at one of the big insurance companies a few months later, as a "counselor." (I hated that job, too, but I saved up all the money I could until I could hang up my own shingle). While I was home, I went to visit the gas station.
Everyone who had been there six years ago, was still there. Someone handed me a beer, and while I was sipping, who drove in? tim. Same car, no Earl. "Your boyfriend heard you were back Johnny," old man Carmine laughed, and he must have seen me in the building. tim never came INSIDE the station, but he did this time. GOD he still looked good. The mullet was gone, but the moustache was there, so were the buttonfly jeans, and the tight t shirt. If anything, he looked more built than he had six years ago. "JOHNNY. I'll be damned." He held out his hand. "How ARE you?" "Hey tim. I'm at my mom's. I'll be moving at the end of the week, into Manhattan. I got a job there." He smiled and for the first time, he spoke to the guys in the station. "SEE? We all knew he was gonna go further than any of us. " I laughed. "Can I service tim one last time?" Yeah, I had learned a lot about myself at school. Hadn't had much sex (ok, I hadn't had any MAN sex), but I knew what I liked. I knew how to crack a joke too. tim smiled. "Yeah Johnny, service me. Pump me up." I went out to his car with him. "It's probably none of my business, but where's Earl" He smiled. "Remember that song, 'Poppa was a Rolling Stone?' Well, so was Earl. He got up one day, about six months after you left for school, said 'I'm leaving, thanks for everything,' and never came back. "GEEZ. That sucks. " "So did he. On occasion." He smiled. "So did you say you're moving this weekend?" "Yeah, from Elmhurst to the Upper East side." He had his hands in his jeans pockets, and he was chewing some gum. "You need some help? I can come over with a few guys and load you up." Now, we had hired a moving company, but... tim at my house, straining his muscles?" "That'd be great tim. Thanks." I called home and told my mom, who was more than glad to not have to have me pay for a mover. "Let's just hope they show up. Your aunt and I aren't spring chickens anymore. (My aunt Judith had moved in with my mom and they shared the house).
We set a date for 9a.m. And at 9 am, tim and four guys who could have been his brothers (it was the clone era remember), showed up. My aunt, looking out the window, yelled. "DAMN ARE ANY OF YOU GUYS INTERESTED IN AN OLD LADY?" My aunt was NOT old, and she was very attractive, but she WAS older than tim and his friends." One of them - I learned his name was Sean - answered her. "Yeah, we are. You have plans tonight? We're going dancing. Join us!" My aunt, to this day, has NEVER turned down an invitation to dance. "TELL ME WHEN." tim called back. "Take a nap. We'll drive by at about 10:30 and head to the city. Wear something shimmery." Then he looked at me. "You're coming too, right?" I was stunned "Uh, am I invited?" tim smiled. "I have been wanting to invite you to dance since you started at that gas station."
They drove me to my new apartment, and after we had unpacked, tim asked if there were a place where we could have some privacy. It was a studio, so I laughed "Well, there's the bathroom. "Let's go." In retrospect, the guys he was with must have known something was up, because things got quiet. I HAD turned on the stereo, but voices stopped. In the bathroom tim, who was just about 2 inches taller than me, stared right into my eyes. "You were too young I couldn't approach you. And then Earl came along, and then you were gone..." He pushed me up against the wall. "Ever have a REAL kiss, Johnny?" He pushed open my lips and Frenched me, and I think I came in my pants. He smiled. "If you asked me if I'd stay over tonight after we go dancing, I'd say yes." "Then stay."
Well, I remember very little about the disco, only that my aunt had the best time of everyone. I think she made 12 new friends that night, including two lesbians. When the place was closing, tim went to the car. "Sean is gonna drive it back to Queens. Let me get my overnight. Let's take a cab to your place." They took my aunt home first, I found out the next day and then went off. In the back seat of the car, I was nervous. VERY nervous. tim saw it. "You're new at this, aren't you?" I laughed. "Yeah, you could say that. I haven't been with a man since I realized I was gay." "Well... " He put his arm around my shoulders. "I'm a pretty good teacher. "
When we got to my apartment this time I pushed HIM against the wall and forced MY tongue into HIS mouth. "YES. That's what I wanted. Start the fire, and then watch it BURN. GOOD BOY." We kissed for a while - maybe 30 minutes. Then he said "Before we wind up hating each other, let me just be clear, Johnny: I take the bottom bunk." I didn't know the expression and he laughed. "It means I take the girl's part, although trust me, there's nothing girly about what I do." "Ok...." I said, more confused than ever. "That sofa? It opens to your bed?" "It does." "Let's get it opened." Once we did, he lay on it "Now get on top of me, Johnny. Don't be afraid. I've had bigger guys on me. You won't hurt me." I may have been shaking, but I did. I heard him mutter "GOD THAT FEELS GOOD." He looked at me. "Trust your judgement. Where would you touch me now?" I shrugged my shoulders. "on the lips?" "Ha ha. You're a romantic. That comes later." He took my hand and put it on his pec. Squeeze that. I did. "HARDER. MUCH HARDER." I heard him moan. "Now do it to the other one. At the same time. " "Through your shirt, tim?" "Good point. Let me take it off." tim had taken off his t shirt at the disco, and I had seen his amazing body. I figured I should take mine off too. He looked and made a wry smile. "Don't take this the wrong way, Johnny, but if you're gonna be gay in NYC, you're gonna need to join a gym." I wasn't fat, but I wasn't built. "You can give me recommendations?" "Uh huh. but now you're getting back to my nipples. And this time, you're gonna lick my ear too." Little by little, he took me through some very basic stuff. "I think we're not ready for anal, or even oral Johnny. How about.... " He opened his jeans and pulled out his cock. "Do the same. Let's jerk off together. It's a way to start." It was embarrassing for me. I was SO hard and SO excited, it was like I was a 17 year old. tim laughed . "You'll get better." "I'm sorry tim it's just.... I wanted to be in bed with you from the first time I saw you." "Even with that mullet?" "ESPECIALLY with that mullet" I answered. "Now, let me get my load blown. Kiss me sexy Johnny." I locked lips with him, and paid attention to how this more experienced guy did things. He came after about five minutes, and then he pulled me on top of him. "It's a start Johnny. We'll do more tomorrow. You've got a good cock, and a good sense about you... and you've got killer blue eyes. We need to get some sleep now. " It wasn't a great bed, but it was nearly 5 am. We slept until noon. I think I have never slept later than I did that night. I HAD BEEN IN BED WITH MY CRUSH. I was so excited!
If you like this story, guys, it'll continue. Just let me know.