Two Lives

Between my Junior and Senior year in college I got a job as a night clerk at a major hotel. During the late hours it was me, the night manager and an older woman night auditor. The night manager was a nice, fatherly 50 something gay man. He took me under his wing, both at work and school focus and friends. He didn't hide his homosexuality, being open about it. This was 1973.

As the summer went on, he forced me to quit smoking. Forced with pure shaming, his repeated observation was who wanted to kiss an ashtray. He also took me down to this store where a friend of his worked. This guy was a total faggot, stereotypical queer. He forced me to buy these magazine clothes. Never to be seen in public clothes. I had breakfast with him every morning.

It had to happen, he invited me to his apartment. Very nice, neat, decorated magazine style. The picture on his side table an 8X10 picture of himself. He cooked salmon with fettuccini. And he served wine in goblets. Not a college burger and fries. He served home made apple pie a la mode. He told me I was a good boy, All I needed was someone to hold my hand. And with that he leaned down and kissed my head.

I did not escape, he unbuttoned my shirt, kissed me, undid my belt. I don't remember stopping him, I was soon naked on his bed while he kissed my mouth, nipples, and penis. A meticulous thought out approach. After he undressed he had me touch his penis, kiss his penis. In a short time he was sucking me and I was sucking him. I confess I did nothing to stop him, not even when he prepared me for mounting and penetration. If I had to think about gay sex, that night was it.

He was my sugar daddy, he paid for graduate school. He had inherited money and we both lived well. After twenty two years he passed and I went on to marry a woman I met along the way. I never had gay sex again, nor have I wanted to. I never had children and neither has my wife. We are approaching seventy and more and more I think about John.