OK, I know that Peg piqued your curiosity about what Norman and I were doing in Gangland. Well, I guess you know what we were there for, what you really want to know is how did the two of us get paired up. It's a long story, but Charlie wants me to tell it. Well, it's not so much a story with characters and plot, it is more a description of my evolution as a person and member of the Gang. Here goes.
You know how I got involved in the Gang–I coached Hal beginning in high school, and got sucked into the Gang through him. It wasn't Hal that began my sexual evolution; that job went to Tim. It began in the van on Hal's second trip to Boston. Before that trip was over my wife, Phyllis, and I had explored our sexuality with Hal's parents, John and Hazel. Our nights sharing a motel room with John and Hazel were the first tentative steps on a long and exciting journey.
Back in Minneapolis, the four of us soon added Norman and Betsy to our little mini-Gang, but the mini-Gang wasn't expanded beyond that for some time. Then came the Gang's discussion of intergenerational sex, and the invitations to our generation to both become formal members of the Gang and to be a part of the sexuality of the Gang.
I hasten to point out that the major change in our lives wasn't the fact that we were having sex–from time to time–with new people, or that the new people were the generation of our children, or that the relationships were both gay and straight. Rather, the biggest change was the more exciting physical relationship that we developed with each other. Our routines were shattered, and we came to realize all that we'd been missing. Not just new positions, or the exploring of manual, oral, or anal sex. But the understanding that nothing that was fun was off limits. Time and place were irrelevant–excepting the demands of privacy.
The ultimate for me occurred in Boston as Jody and Hal prepared for the Boston Marathon of 1988, in the spring leading up to the Seoul Olympics. I had just retired from coaching and Hal had taken that to mean that our coach-runner relationship had come to an end. We were contemporaries. Our first night in Boston Hal fucked me while Jody, Sue and Phyllis played in the other bed–and watched Hal and me. He fondled my dick so that we had a virtually mutual orgasm. Except for a few occasions with Phyllis it is the most loving experience of my life. Hal and I had been extraordinarily close for about twenty years. I think Hal always knew that night would come, and I guess I did too, but its arrival was spectacular. And to think that both of our wives watched and were fully supportive. I could never thank either of them enough for that night.
After I retired and we moved to Grand Forks Phyllis and I got very comfortable having sex with other members of the Gang. From time to time we'd lie in bed and express our complete disbelief in how our lives–including, or especially, our sex lives–had changed.
But then Phyllis died. It seemed that if I had a sexual relationship with someone it would be behind Phyllis' back. It took a mighty effort on Hal's part to get me over that, and a night that he arranged with Jody and his parents did the job. I was prepared to venture out into the sexual world, but with whom? I asked Hal for advice. I'd told him that I didn't want him to arrange things for me, but I still needed his help. He suggested that I talk with Max.
"He's young; he's unattached; he's bisexual; and he is quite familiar with intergenerational sex. Believe me, he knows his way around the Gang as perhaps none of the rest of us do. And he loves doing things for other people. If you call him, I'm sure that before advice will come experimentation. Enjoy. Believe me, Max can be a lot of fun."
"You sound experienced."
"Everybody in the Gang is experienced with Max. I think he keeps a checklist."
"I'm not on it."
"Yes, you are. It's just that your name is one of the few that isn't checked off yet. That's one of the reasons that I'm sure that Max would love to hear from you."
So I called Max. That day, in fact. He invited himself to dinner that night, offering to bring the meal with him. I assured him that I knew how to cook, and that he should just bring himself.
Well, Max is a trip. He arrived with a big bouquet of roses and four Hershey bars. He kissed me, handed me the roses, and held up the Hershey bars, saying, "I know it should've been a big box of mixed chocolates, but in my world there is no candy better than a Hershey bar, so why waste your money on expensive boxes of chocolate? Besides, Godiva chocolate is bitter. I like the sweet stuff from Hershey. Who wants bitter chocolate?"
I burst out laughing. I knew Max would be something special, but he was truly off the wall. Sex with Max that evening was off the wall as well. After I got the flowers in a vase, which I put on the dining room table, we sat down to eat. Max said, "Now, if I were Tim or Charlie, we'd probably be eating naked. But I'd rather let my imagination handle my sexual needs at dinner, and then after dinner I can see how accurate my imagination was."
I simply said, "I'm going to let you lead, Max."
"Good idea, since I probably would anyway."
I'll have to say it was a pretty good dinner–pork chops. I offered Max wine, but he insisted that sex with him was much better than wine, and didn't need wine to enhance it. We had ice water. They we each had a Hershey bar for dessert. I had something fixed in the kitchen, but it was clear that the Hershey bar was the right thing for the occasion. Max is, by the way, right. Hershey makes the best chocolate in the world.
Then Max asked, "OK, why am I here? Do you want a good fuck? Do you want someone to give a good fuck to? Or are you looking for the wisdom that only good ole Max can provide? Or, perhaps, all three?"
"The first two are up to you, Max. At Hal's suggestion I invited you here for the wisdom that he says only you can provide."
"OK, before I start giving advice, I want to take the measure of the man. We're going to go upstairs to your bed and I'm going to fuck the bejesus out of you. Then you can have your way with me, no holds barred. Then we'll talk."
"Max I've been fucked by just two people: Hal and Jody. I'd be honored if you would be the third."
"They're both experts. But they're loving and gentle. That's not what you're going to get from me. Ready."
I had no idea what I was saying, "Yes," to, but I said it.
Max turned into a raging bull. I was picked up and thrown on my bed, and my clothes literally ripped off–I later found that my shirt has lost two buttons. Max's clothes came off just as fast, and then he was fully on top of me. His mouth crushed into mine, and his tongue forced its way in, plunging all the way to my tonsils it seemed. Then he had my dick and balls in his mouth, with little on no concern for what his teeth came in contact with. Then he was biting my nipples. It hurt, but it was also amazingly erotic. I had never experienced anything like it.
Then my feet were up in the air and he was rimming me. Then his fingers seemed to be demanding entry, as if they were saying, "Mr. Sphincter, get out of the way." And it did. No urologist ever did a more complete rectal examination, and he declared my prostate to be, "A-OK."
With that his dick plunged up my ass, and he pounded up and down like a madman. He came quickly, pulled out, shoved his wet dick in my face and said, "Suck it."
I did. As I tell it, and think about it, it should've been disgusting. In the event it was the sexiest command I've ever received. I sucked with enthusiasm. As I did, Max said, in a quiet voice, "I'm all yours. Use me any way you want."
At that point I only wanted one thing, and I wanted it really, really badly. I flipped Max onto his back and rammed my dick up his ass. I hadn't used any lubricant, but Max was ready and it popped in easily, with the aid of a lot of precum. I was prepared to give it to Max harder than he'd given it to me–if that were possible, except that by the second plunge I came. I backed out for a third plunge before I realized that I'd come. Max pushed me over and grabbed my dick in his mouth and sucked and sucked and sucked. Eventually he stopped and we simply lay there on the bed, completely spent.
I think it must've been a half and hour before either of us stirred. I asked, "Max, do you give it to everybody like that?"
"Oh, God, no. It would kill some, and completely put off others. But anybody that can coach Hal and Jody has to be pretty special. I took your measure and I was right. You're a man's man. I loved it. How about you?"
"I'm not sure I'd want to do that very often, but it was wonderful, Max. I can't believe it. I can't believe that sex could be so thrilling."
"Gentle and loving is wonderful as well. There's no right way to have sex. But that was right for the two of us tonight. I could just feel in it my bones."
"Including that incredible bone that was sticking out between your legs."
"Including that one."
We lay there a little while and then Max said, "You wanted advice. OK, here it is. You want to get entangled with Norman Crosse."
"That's the one."
"But he and Perry are happily partnered; married really."
"Why would Norman be looking elsewhere for sex? And why me?"
"Considering your present situations, you're perfect for each other."
"Why on earth?"
"Let me explain. First, you spent your entire life working with boys. Boys running around tracks with very little clothing on. Sexy boys. Not once did you stray. But don't try to tell me your mind didn't wander at times. Maybe your eyes as well. We all, especially you, knew those boys were off limits, and you never considered violating that trust. But you're no longer a coach. And as long as we're talking about adults, intergenerational sex isn't violating anything. At you age, twenty-somethings aren't all that different from teens–even though they're adults both legally and morally. So it's time to indulge your fantasies. Does any of that hit close to home?"
"God, Max. Have you got everyone's number the way you have mine?"
"Coach, you're easy to read. We couldn't have had the fun we just had if that explanation wasn't pretty close to the mark."
"Your pointing out my prurient interest in the boys I coached makes me feel a little guilty."
"Nonsense. The Four Lads once had a hit song, 'Standing on the Corner, Watching All the Girls Go by.' Remember it?"
"I do, but I'm surprised that you're familiar with it."
"Oh, I've had the lyrics quoted to me many, many times. So I got hold of an old Four Lads album with the song on it. Quite abbreviated the lyrics go:
Standing on the corner watching all the girls go by,
Standing on the corner giving all the girls the eye,
Brother, you can't go to jail
For what you're thinking,
Or for the woo look in your eye,
You're only standing on the corner
Watching all the girls
Herb asked Max, "Do you really believe that?"
"I certainly do. Watching and thinking are not evil, nor sinful. They are the natural inclinations of red-blooded males, and females. It's no accident that girls like to watch swim and diving meets."
"You know, Max. You are the first person that has ever put his finger on my delight in watching boys."
"Delight, yes. But I would also guess guilt. My job right now is to convince you that there is no need for guilt."
"Well, Max, I'd like to be able to report that the song lyrics are true in the real world, but I can't. Quite legitimate concerns about men's treatment of women can, and have, led to absurdities. At a well-respected northern university a faculty member was disciplined and almost fired because a girl was 'made uncomfortable' by his looking at her in the swimming pool. They both swam laps at the same hour in the morning, and she accused him of looking at her improperly and making her uncomfortable. He pointed out that when two people swim laps at the same time, the simple facts of swimming and breathing mean that he'll be looking her way half the time. He denied having any sexual interest in her, but, still, looking at her made her uncomfortable. Chalk one up for absurd feminism and an idiot of a school administrator."
Author's Note: It's a true story. I haven't named the university because the story is told from memory and so I can't be sure of the details. In the back of my mind is a whole file of stupidities committed by various school administrators. I'm not sure that they are dumber than other bureaucrats; it may just be that their mistakes make the newspaper more consistently. But at least once a year I read of a doozy by some administrator or principal.
"OK," said Max, "I'll grant you that not everybody agrees with me. The question is, do you? If you still have some guilt about liking to watch your young athletes, can you shed it?"
"Yes, Max, I can. I have. Your bringing it out in the open and making me talk and think about it was wonderful."
"Have you ever talked to anybody about it?"
"Only Phyllis, and then only after our perspective on sex had been reshaped by the Gang."
"And what was her reaction?"
"She laughed herself silly. She said she had been eyeing the same boys every time she came with me to a track meet, and if she could, why couldn't I."
"Absolutely. Did you ever ask her if she like to watch sexy girls?"
"As we got more involved with the Gang, and had some homosexual adventures, I did. And she said she did. She added, 'If girls're going to wear sexy clothes or swimsuits, I'm going to look at them, and so are a lot of boys. Presumably that's a good part of the reason for wearing a bikini."
Max said, "Read what Charlie's written in this story about liking swim meets, track meets, and wrestling matches because of the sexy bodies they expose. In the past few years the shorts that basketball players–males–wear have gotten almost a foot longer. On the seven-foot giants of the NBA they have probably stretched more than a foot. I'm quite willing to admit that watching men's basketball is a lot less interesting since that change. Nobody's going to tell me that looking–in a public place–is a sin. Nor is it a crime. Acting, or perhaps talking, inappropriately may be a crime. But not looking or thinking. I've fucked a lot of girls–and boys–mentally, and I never would have had I not looked first and liked was I saw."
"Max, you're too much. Moving on, why do you suggest that Norman is the right person to approach?"
"Norman is a special case. Actually, Perry is the special case. Perry grew up as part of the Gang, but not with the Gang. He lived in Michigan and only saw the rest of the COGs on visits to Grand Forks, or on the rare times that some of us were in Ironwood. Willie was about the only exception, and Willie is seven years older than Perry. Perry delayed college, so he'd met and fallen in love with Norman before he had any chance to live in Grand Forks with the other COGs–all of whom are now members of the Gang and no longer COGs. Perry is torn in two directions: He would like to make up for a long childhood away from the COGs and he wants to be a good partner to Norman. Norman understands this, and has encouraged Perry to spend time with the former COGs. He joins Perry, but these young folks don't have the relationship with Norman that they do with Perry. They all welcome Norman, but it isn't the same. And Norman knows it."
"How do you know all of this?"
"I don't. But I can read tea leaves. I know Perry very well, and the feelings I have attributed to Norman are just common sense–given that he's a normal young man, loves Perry, and is morally upright, which he must be or Perry wouldn't have anything to do with him."
"Norman and Perry both need you. Norman needs someone who would like to have sex with him. But he needs someone who needs him, not just is willing to have sex with him. Perry needs to feel that Norman isn't just getting out of the way so that Perry can enjoy the COGs, but is relating to someone in a very positive way. In short, you two are–right now–made for each other. And I'll vouch for Norman. He can boff you like I did tonight, or be the most gentle lover in the world. A piece of advice: Norman isn't a mind reader; you need to let him know what you'd like. Don't be shy about that. When twenty-somethings bed down with septuagenarians, they need guidance. Without it, they will always be excessively gentle."
"Max, I didn't give you any guidance tonight, and you certainly weren't in any way gentle."
"I'm a mind reader."
"Max, you amaze me."
"Shit, I amaze myself. Now, tonight, you, Norman and Perry are going to be my guests at Jerry's–if both of them are available. In my usual brutally frank way I am going to get it all out on the table. Then I am going home with Perry–whom I haven't boffed in a while–and you're going to bring Norman home and boff the Hell out of him. Are you ready?"
What could I say?
Max used my telephone and within minutes the dinner was on. Max played host, and the four of us had a very nice meal, good conversation, and the purpose of the gathering wasn't even suggested until we were eating dessert. Then Max simply said that he thought Norman and I made a perfect pair for "some good clean fun in the sack." Then he proceeded to outline his reasoning in the same way he had to me, only this time Norman and Perry were hearing Max describe the situation of each of them.
We all listened intently as Max spoke his mind. He was completely frank and open. When he was done Perry turned to me and asked, "Well, Coach, has he got your number?"
I said, "Exactly."
Perry said, "Mine too. And I'd be surprised if Norman didn't agree."
Norman did agree, and asked, "OK, where do we go from here?"
Perry replied, "That's easy. Right after dinner Max and I will head to my house and Coach and Norman will head to Coach's house. I have a pretty good idea of what will happen at my house, but we'll let Coach and Norman figure out what they're going to be up to all by themselves."
I said, "Well, I guess this is what I was expecting, but the reality is soaking in very slowly. Norman, I hope you'll be patient with me."
Norman said, "That's easy. I am exploring new territory as well as you, Herb. But it's going to be fun to see where this all leads."
As Norman and I drove from Jerry's I told him about Max's advice to me regarding letting a young partner know what I wanted. I told Norman, "Look, I'm in good shape; my heart's fine; I get plenty of exercise. I want you to treat me just as you'd treat somebody your own age."
"Herb, that's tough. I can't avoid the thought that you could be my grandfather."
"And I have the same issue with the fact that you could be my grandson. However, if we can't get past that, then this is all going to fail. Close your eyes and think of Perry, or Max. I am not saying that I want rough sex–though I got that from Max and it was great. I just don't want you shaping your actions, your requests, or your desires on assumptions about my age or capabilities."
"That's going to be tough, Herb, but I'll honestly try."
"That's all I can ask. Say, I'm just curious; the others call me Coach, but you call me Herb. Why?"
"Simple. The others call you Coach because that's what you've been called by the Gang and the COGs all the time they've known you. Changing is difficult. But you were first introduced to me as Herb, and that's what I've called you. However, I'm very glad that I got started that way. I know that the fact that you were Hal's coach stood in the way of your having sex with the Gang for years. I understand that it was only retirement as a coach that moved you to having sex with Hal or any of the others. Isn't that right?"
"Well, under those circumstances, it didn't seem to me that you'd enjoy being called Coach by a young sex partner. I'd rather call you Herb. That puts us on an equal footing."
"Norman, you're as perceptive as Max. In fact, Max keeps on calling me Coach. Thanks."
When we got to my house, Norman suggested that we sit down in my living room and have coffee or something. I indicated that I'd like tea while he drank coffee. He said, "I'm always reluctant to ask for tea in America, because it seems to be a big effort for many Americans. However, since you're making tea, I'll join you. I prefer it."
As we sipped our tea (mine with lemon and sugar, his with only milk) Norman mused, "You know, we're both fairly new to the Gang. Well, I guess you've been part of the Gang for a while, but I think the sex thing is a little new for you. I guess I'm really comparing myself to the kids about my age, but who grew up as COGs. You can tell I'm getting indoctrinated; I use the terminology quite easily. I'm comfortable in sexual relationships beyond Perry. Hell, we started that with a guy in Australia almost as soon as we discovered each other. So what's the difference? I've been thinking about that, and I have an answer. Perry is completely comfortable with the Gang in talking about sex, suggesting sex, whatever. I've heard him call up one of his fellow COGs and say, 'I'm horny. Can you fix it?' I simply haven't internalized the idea that that level of openness is acceptable within the Gang."
"I haven't either. But I think what is important as the two of us go forward with some kind of relationship, the exact nature of which has yet to be determined, is that we have that kind of openness with each other."
"You're right. And I hope we do. No, I'm sure we do. In that vein, just what is going to happen tonight?
"When Max and I were together, Max–to use his words–'boffed the Hell out of me.' I knew what he meant, but I don't think I've ever heard the word boff before. Have you?"
"Yeah, Max uses it from time to time. I'm not sure anybody else in the Gang does. I looked it up. Webster simply says it means intercourse. But I'm quite sure the Max uses it to mean intercourse played rough and tough–not forced or rape, but consensual roughness."
"That certainly describes the intercourse Max and I had that night."
"I've never gotten that treatment from Max; we'll we haven't had sex very often, and Perry was always there. But we've talked. Max is very careful about whom he boffs–to use his word as he uses it. If that's how he treated you, either you asked for it, or Max perceived that it was the right thing at that time. Was he right?"
"Yes, he was. I would never have asked for it, nor would I have expected it to be the right thing. But it was. It was Max's way of saying that I belonged in his circle, not the circle of the aged. While that may or may not be true, it was a wonderful feeling."
"Is that what you'd like from me this evening?"
"No, not tonight, but I'm not ruling it out for the future."
"Well, it's what I'd like tonight. And you up for it?"
"You mean that?"
"Hey, this is the Gang. Surely by now you've been told that that's an unacceptable question in the Gang. Even I know that, and I'm pretty new."
"Consider me chastened. OK, let's talk about boundaries. Do you want to be spanked?"
"Sure, why not?"
"Chains and whips?"
"I'll bet if I said, 'Yes,' that you'd have a tough time finding the equipment. But, no. You can tie me up."
"I think that changes the dynamic from rough to S&M. What Max gave me was rough, not S&M."
By this time we were pulling up in front of my house. I was completely aroused by the conversation, and was eager to get Norman inside. Norman looked at me and said, "I think you're eager. Don't try to copy Max. Let Herb be in charge. If you go too far I'll tell you, but I'm sure you won't. I'm looking forward to this."
"You sound like you've done this before."
"Never. Perry isn't capable of it; it's just not his personality."
"What makes you think I am?"
"You coached track and field. That's a tough sport, and if you don't really put out you'll never be any good. And, unless you're Hal, you don't put out without a good coach. You're capable, and I'll bet you enjoy it. I'll bet it was part of the sexiness of working with teenage boys that Max was talking about. Am I right?"
"You're making me feel guilty."
"No, no. Thoughts are OK; they're the spice of life. Without them, we'd all be very dull people. It's actions that have to be controlled. And tonight you're being invited to loosen those controls. I'm just a few years older than those track stars you coached. And this one you can fuck."
He got out of the car and headed to the house, with me right behind. I unlocked the door and let him in. As soon as the door was closed I ordered, "Strip," in my toughest track coach voice. He did as he was told. I grabbed his dick and pulled him upstairs. I told him to gently undress me, and he did.
I had no idea where I wanted this to go. I pushed him toward my bed and then pushed him down on it. I fell on him and started sucking his dick. I could've finished him off right then, but restrained myself and switched to kissing his mouth and driving my tongue as far down his throat as I could get it. We lay there a minute and I thought about what would come next. I remembered that he had virtually invited me to spank him, so I back off, used my left hand to lift his legs and my right hand to spank him. I hit him pretty hard several times on each butt cheek, and they began to get red. He didn't seem particularly bothered, so I repeated the strokes. A couple of times. He was now quite red, so I started to let his legs down. He whispered, "Chicken."
Well, Charlie has pointed out in this story that the word chicken gets a teen moving pretty fast. Well, that rule applies to all ages. It earned Norman several more rounds of spanks. He never whimpered, but I decided he'd had enough. He didn't say "chicken" this time when I quit. I decided that I didn't really want to fuck him, I wanted to be sucked. Better yet, I wanted to fuck his mouth. There wasn't enough length on the bed, so I put a pillow on the rug and told him to lie down with his head on the pillow. I got over him, with my knees to his sides and my dick right over his mouth. I drove it in. And out. And in. I told him to suck and I very quickly came.
I turned around and virtually sat on his face with his nose heading right up my ass. I leaned over so I could reach his dick and balls and mauled them as hard as I dared. But I decided that I wanted to be fucked. I got up, lubed myself, and then sat down on his dick, with it pushing up my ass. It slipped in and it didn't take that much up and down for him to climax. At that I got him up on the bed and we fell into each other's arms.
I was afraid that I'd gone too far, but his first words were, "That was fantastic. I never dreamed you had that in you. You really are special, Herb."
"I was afraid I'd pushed too far."
"I would've told you. Perry is too kind and gentle, and loves me too much. I could never ask him to do that."
"But you can ask me? What does that say about me? That I'm not kind and gentle?"
"No, no. But that you can relate to me in a way that Perry can't, and I wouldn't want him to. And tomorrow morning, when we go at it again, let's be soft and gentle. Besides, my ass will still be sore."
The next morning I was glad to see that though his ass was still red, it wasn't blistered, which I had feared.
Two days later Norman was off to England working on his Fred's Sports Co-op, and a few days later Perry joined him. Two weeks later they were back and I got an immediate call from Norman. His message was simple, "Meet you at Gangland at two this afternoon. I need a shower."
After three nights together I asked Norman, "Don't you want to spend time with Perry?"
"Perry and I had grand sex every night in England. Most mornings as well. Now that he's back he's eager to visit a few COGs. Tomorrow night, why don't you join the two of us at our house?"
That was a three-way love-in which I don't really need to describe. And the next afternoon Norman and I were camped out in Gangland, hoping that we'd be disturbed by someone. And in walked Bert and Peg. They were surprised to see us and we were surprised to see them.
We talked for a while, exchanged stories, and all agreed that we were eager to broaden our sexual horizons. The shower seemed an obvious place, and there we headed. Looking, washing, rinsing, and spraying thoroughly aroused us all. As we were drying each other off, Peg said, "I want to be fucked by all three of you. Coach, you have the smallest dick, so you go first. Bert, Norman is quite a bit bigger than you, so you're second. And Norman, you keep that thing at the ready, because I'm really going to be ready for it. And don't worry, any of you, I'm on the pill and quite safe."
We dutifully complied. We had supper together at Jerry's and we all went back to our separate homes for the night. I was alone that night, and not unhappy to be. As I lay in bed, I couldn't help but think that I was pretty much the luckiest septuagenarian in the world.
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