Losing Tim
by Nigel Gordon
Chapter 6
Black Country 1962
From that day onwards Jim and Jack treated me as part of the family, and I was always welcome to join them in activities with the boys and not just the sexual ones. Within that family I was someone that they loved and cared for. That is something I cannot say about the attitude from my own father.
Chris called me on the Monday and asked me to meet him on the Wednesday after school. I did. Jack was taking the boys out for the day on Sunday and had offered to included me. We would be going to the Go-Karts in Birmingham and afterwards to see a film at the Gaumont. The whole trip would cost a pound. I shook my head. It was more than I could afford.
"I'll let you have it," Chris offered.
"You always pay for me, I wish I had money."
"You could come and work with me and Terry."
"Doing what?" I asked, half knowing what the answer would be.
"You know what we did at the party."
"Yea," as if I was likely to forget, that had been one of the best times of my life.
"That, but with other men who will pay you to do it."
"They pay?"
"That's right, want to come along?"
"You bet, yea I do."
"Right, I need to arrange a couple of things but meet me on Saturday, we'll go to the flicks, then I'll take you to Jock's, there'll be some work for you. Tell your parents you will be late."
I thought that there would be a problem staying out late that Saturday. In fact, there were none. My parents had been invited to a dinner dance and as such were not going to be home till early Sunday morning. When I said that I had been invited to go with a friend night fishing, which was the excuse I had worked out with Chris, they were if anything relieved, and said if Chris wanted to stay when we got back that was OK. Chris was waiting for me by the Clock Tower and the pair of us went to the cinema for afternoon matinee. The film was a bit of a disappointment and we left before the finish and caught the bus into West Bromwich then walked for about 15 minutes through a range of back streets and allies. Finally, we came to a small newsagent's, stuck on a back-street corner.
Inside magazine stands stood with American body building titles. US Boy, American Boy, Mr World, Chris picked one up and started to leaf through it. Inside were photos of young men in skimpy bathing suits, so tight that nothing was left to the imagination. At the counter a man was serving a couple of middle-aged men in dark suits, their dress and manner seeming totally out of place for this part of town. They looked at us for a moment when we entered. The man behind the counter spoke to them in a low voice and they seemed more at ease, though one kept looking at me. I made my way to the corner of the shop where there was a cardboard box tightly stuffed with magazines. I pulled one out, Der Frie Zonnen Jongen, or something like that. It was in a language I did not know but thought might be German. Inside there were pictures of boys of all ages, naked, playing volleyball on the beach, swimming or flying kites.
The two men bought some mags and left, the man behind the counter looked over towards us.
"Hi Chris," he said in a soft Scottish accent, then looking at me added, "so this is it." Chris nodded. "You better come through then." He opened the counter hatch and Chris led the way through and on through the door behind the counter. I followed, slightly put out as being referred to as 'it'. The man went to the shop door, bolted it and turned the sign round, then switched off the shop lights and came through, closing and bolting the door behind him. For a moment he looked at me.
"What's your name?"
"Peter."
"So, you want to work like Chris?" I nodded. "You'll have to do better than that."
"Yes."
"Yes what?"
"I want to work like Chris."
"You know what he does?"
"Yes."
"Tell me?" I looked at Chris who nodded.
"He does things with men." I was embarrassed and a bit scared, by this time I had turned bright red.
"What sort of things."
"Sex things."
"You've done those things?"
"Yes."
"Who with?"
"Friends."
"Any men, I mean real men not older boys?"
"Yes."
"Good," he paused for a moment. "Sorry but I had to be sure you knew what you were getting into, don't want there to be any mistakes. So, you want to have sex with men and get paid for it."
"Yes."
"Strip." I looked at him. "Come on strip, I want to see what you've got and if I can sell it, this is no time to be modest." I took my clothes off and stood naked in front of him. He reached out and took my balls in his hand and started to gently knead them. My cock sprang to life, hard, erect and dripping pre-cum.
"Nice Peter, you'll soon get over being shy and the men will love this, now let's see how good you are, suck this." Pushing me down in front of him with one hand his other extracted an eight-inch-long massively thick cock, with a bulbous uncircumcised head. I, with some difficulty, took it into my mouth and started to suck on it.
"Good," he pulled his cock away and returned it inside his trousers. "We can enjoy more of that later, if you want." Somehow, I decided that I did want. He then told me to dress.
The room we were in was a small parlour. In the corner was a table with a gas ring on it. A gas fire hissed away in the far wall. Two threadbare chairs provided the rest of the furniture along with a small side table and cupboard. The man introduced himself as Peter but said there would be no confusion as everybody called him Jock. He then took the kettle slipped out the back door of the room. The sound of a tap running permeated through and Jock returned, lit the gas ring and put the kettle on to boil.
Whilst we waited for the kettle to boil, he started to tell me about the work. Basically, there were three types. Putting on shows, where I would be having sex with another boy or a man whilst other men watched. Entertaining at parties, where there would be a number of men and boys and I would be expected to have sex with the men and private clients, where it would be a one on one arrangement. He told me that to start with he would just use me in the shows where I would work with Chris and another boy. If that went OK, he would then move me into other work which paid more.
He made and poured the tea, then went over everything he had said again. Once he was certain that I had understood what was involved he asked me again if I wanted to do the work. I looked at Chris who smiled at me, then I said yes. Just then there was a tapping at the curtained window at the back of the room. Jock got up and went through to the rear room, there was the sound of bolts being drawn and a door opening, then closed and the bolts being shot. Muffled voices were heard from the back and Jock returned with a youth of sixteen or seventeen. He looked fantastic and was dressed fantastic in a tight white tee shirt that showed all his muscles, he had quite a few of them. Jock introduced him to me as Martin and said I would be working with him and Chris at a party that night. He then took us all upstairs where we stripped, and Jock rubbed baby oil all over us. His hand carefully exploring every part of our bodies as he did. Then we dressed but with instructions not to wear any underwear, actually I was the only one who had any on, both Chris and Martin were naked beneath their jeans and shirts, once dressed we got a brief set of instructions on what we were to do that night. Then down and out back to a garage in which stood an old station wagon.
The back seats were folded down and in the back were a number of boxes of different shapes. Martin climbed into the front passenger seat. Chris climbed into the back amongst the boxes, I followed him in. He took hold of my hand and squeezed it, giving me a smile. This made me feel a lot happier, there had been a certain coldness about the proceedings up till then, which had left me feeling a bit uneasy. Christ though was now smiling at me, which made everything alright.
Jock drove us for about fifteen minutes. I did not know exactly where we were but knew it was close to Great Barr. He pulled the car into the car park of a pub and drove right round behind the pub. There he stopped the car at the gates to the pub yard. Jock got out and told us to stay in the car. He then walked off around the corner back into the main car park. I started to feel a bit worried, but Chris must have sensed it as he leaned over and gave me a hug, Martin turned and looked at me.
"First time?" I nodded. "Don't worry kid, you look sexy enough, just strip off and show your arse, me and Chris will do all the work."
Shortly after the gates opened and Jock got back in the car and drove us into the yard. Once in the yard Jock jumped out and closed the gates. Only then did he open the back to allow Chris and myself to spill out. Jock told us to grab something. I got hold of a long thin box, thinking it would be light, a thought that was quite mistaken. I could only just lift it out of the car. Martin came around from the front and took it off me, pointing to another box for me to carry. That one I could manage, just.
A door at the top of a fire escape spilled light into the yard. Martin, who seemed to know what to do, proceeded to carry his box up the fire escape and through the door, I followed with Chris behind me. The door took us into a small function room that could hold about thirty people. In one corner was a bar and at the other end stood a small stage. There were two men in the room. One a massive bearded man wearing a tee shirt and jeans, his busy grey flecked beard reaching more than halfway down his chest. He had his arm around the waist of one of the most beautiful men I have ever seen
He appeared to be about twenty, though I was later to learn he was quite a bit older, and just under six feet tall. He was dressed in a white silk polo neck jumper, white flannel and tennis shoes. Dead straight jet-black hair hung down his back to his waist. A thin nose and lips gave him an angular look, set off by his dark, deep set, ever so slightly slanted eyes, which betrayed his oriental ancestry. It was the colour of his skin that made all this special. A deep rich brown, like good Café au Lait.
He moved forward, releasing himself from the arm round his waist. He opened his arms and embraced Martin.
"Martin daaarling," the illusion was shattered, the voice was a falsetto feminine screech, "long time no feel." His hands moved down to openly grope the youth. His head turned and looked at me. "And who is this titbit?" He released Martin and started to move towards me. I froze for a moment; uncertain then took half a step back. Somebody was behind me, a firm but comforting hand came down on the shoulder.
"Now Francis, don't touch the goods. This is Peter and he is new," Jock said from behind me. Then leaning down to apparently whisper in my ear, "don't mind the old queen he is missing his daddy." The whisper was loud enough to be heard round the room.
"At least my daddy can fill me Jock, that's more than you can do for any of your titbits." I felt Jock stiffen behind me.
"Claws girls, claws," boomed a deep voice of authority. "Now Francis go down and help Clive till we need you on the bar." Francis pouted and with a mincing gait exited the room via the double doors by the bar.
"Now Jock why don't you and your boys get set up." Before Jock could answers the bearded man turned and left the room. Jock and Martin had to make another trip down to the car to get the last of the boxes. Chris and I started to unpack the stuff already brought up. It was an eight-millimetre film projector, screen and a box of films, the box I had carried up. I told Chris I was worried and did not know what to do. He smiled and gave me a hug, then told me just to follow his lead, it would all be OK.
Jock and Martin returned with the rest of the boxes. Within about fifteen minutes all the kit was set up and Jock started to test the projector. During this time the bearded man whom Jock addressed as Bert had popped up a couple of times to see how things were going. The third time he came up Jock told him we were ready.
Chris took me over into a corner by the bar. There was a drinks ledge running along the wall with four or five old chromed high bar stools in front of it. We sat on those, Martin came and sat next to us. He put his hand on my shoulder and asked if I was OK, I told him I was not certain what to do. He replied that I should just follow Chris's lead, and everything would work out. Then he reminded both of us to take our shoes and socks off before going on stage. Jock had mentioned this back at his place, but I had forgotten. Christ commented that to be safe we should do it now, so we all took our shoes and socks off.
Francis, who had come up to the room whilst we had been talking and was behind the bar pouring Coca Cola into three large glasses. He brought them over to us and said Bert and sent them to help us get in the mood. Chris and Martin took sips out of theirs, I was quite thirsty and took a great gulp from mine. Immediately I regretted it, it was rum and coke with probably about one third rum.
Whilst we were sat in the corner with our drink some men started to arrive in the room. Bert stood by the door talking to each man as they came in and taking some money off them. Francis was at the bar serving them. I knew the prices of drinks at the Civil Defence club and my cousin's pubs so was a bit shocked to hear what was being charged here. The prices seemed to be at least double the normal price.
A number of the men came over to speak to us. Most seemed to know Martin, many knew Chris. Some asked if we were free for fun after. Either Martin or Chris would answer along the line that we were not free but not too expensive and that they would have to talk to Jock. Chris, when no one was around except Martin, told me that Jock would not fit us up that night but would probably arrange something for Martin. I was relieved. The idea of going off with somebody I did not know alone worried me.
There we about a dozen men in the room when somebody came in I knew. It was Philip, the man who had been at Jack's birthday. After getting a drink he came over to Chris and me, Martin had been called over by Jack and was speaking with Jack and another man.
Philip chatted with us for a couple of minutes, then asked Chris to pop round on Sunday afternoon. Chris indicated that he would. Maybe I looked a bit disappointed, I had been hoping to go to the cinema with Chris on Sunday, I don't know but Philip added that I should come as well if I wanted.
As Philip moved away, I mentioned to Chris that I thought Jock had said we were not to arrange anything with a guest that everything had to go via him. Chris told me that this was different, Philip was part of the Family, and that I should not tell Jock about it.
Shortly after Philip arrived Bert closed and locked the doors. A set of heavy curtains were pulled across and Bert placed his chair in front of the doors. Jock started the projector, the men, about twenty of them, took their seats.
With the exception of the bar lights all the lights in the room were switched off. The projector flickered into life. A square of white light filled the screen, then images, a man and a boy in swimming trunks by a pool. The man was seated on the edge of the pool, he feet in the water. Standing next to him is the boy. He runs his hand up the boy's leg and starts to feel him through his trunks. The boy's erection is clearly visible, and the head of his cock pops out over the top of his trunks.
The man leaned forward and started to lick the cockhead, at the same time he pulled down the boy's trunks. I was getting very aroused watching this and started to feel myself through my jeans. Chris whispered in my ear that it was better to save it, don't watch the film, that was for the punters. Francis came over with another round of drinks for us. While the film played Chris, Martin and I sat in the corner our backs to the screen, having a whispered conversation. I glanced at the screen at one point and saw that the boy was now in the water, sucking the man off. I also noticed that a lot of the men had their trousers open and were playing with themselves.
There was a flapping of celluloid and the sound of clothing being adjusted. The film had ended. The lights came on. As Jock loaded the second film men got more drinks.
The second film got shown. This was of a group of boys on a beach, then a third film of two boys in a hotel room. During this film the audience was far more open in its self-gratification, some assisting each other. When that film finished, whilst Jock loaded the next in the projector, Martin indicated that we should move near the front. He also laid a large picnic rug down in front of the screen.
The third film was in colour. It showed two men and some Arab boys. This though was different from the other films. The boys in those had been about my own age or older and looked like they were really enjoying themselves. These boys were a lot younger, also the looked scared. For some reason this made me feel uncomfortable watching it.
The film stopped, this time though the lights did not go on. A single spot light lit the stage, rhythmic moody music played softly. Martin moved into the pool of light. He stood there swaying his hips and running his hands up and down his body, rubbing his crotch, the outline of his clearly erect cock visible through the cloth of his tight fit jeans. He slipped his hands under his tee shirt, pushing it up slowly, revealing his muscles. In a series of slow sensuous moves, he pushed the tee shirt up over his head, then pulled it off, tossing it to one side. His oiled torso glistened in the light.
Slowly he ran his hand down his body. When he got to his fly, he unbuttoned it and pulled out his cock. Chris gave me a nudge, I recalled Jock's instructions. We both walked on stage, Chris going behind Martin and coming round to face me so one of use was on each side. We knelt down, slightly in front of him, our hands feeling his legs, the two of us started to lick his cock.
Martin's hand came down onto the back of my neck, then he drew me up tilting my head back. His mouth covered mine, his tongue forcing its way deep into my mouth. At the same time his hands undid the buttons on my shirt, slipping it off me so it fell down my arms, then he opened my fly pulling out my cock letting my jeans fall down to my ankles.
Suddenly I felt hot and flustered, also excited at the thought of my cock being exposed before all those men. Martin whispered in my ear reminding me to throw my shirt well clear of the stage. I did.
Martin pushed me down onto my knees and drew Chris up, leaving Martin's cock before my face, I took it into my mouth. As I did Martin thrust forward with his hips, driving it deep into my mouth. With a rhythmic thrust and pull of his hips he proceeded to fuck my face as he stripped Chris. Remembering my instruction, I reached up and undid Martin's belt. Then undid the top button of his jeans, releasing them and pulling them down. He slipped his feet out of them and I threw them off stage as Chris kicked his own jeans away.
Now I was the only one not totally naked, not that it made much difference as my jeans were down around my ankles. That though was about to change. Martin pulled his cock out of my mouth and pushed me down onto the stage. Chris lowered himself over my face, pushing his cock towards my mouth. I took it in and started to suck on it. As I did Chris reached down and slipped my jeans over my feet, Martin pulled them off me and tossed them to one side of the stage. My legs were seized and pushed back, a tongue started to lick my hole. Then my legs were lowered, and Chris moved down across me and took my cock in his mouth. Above me Martin was spreading Vaseline on Chris's arse, then, after fingering it for a bit, he slowly started to push his cock into Chris. Although it was fairly long, about seven inches, Martin's cock was still boyish thin, and Chris took it without any problem. Slowly Martin started to fuck arse. Taking it slow, making it last. I remembered what Jock had said, we were there to entertain, not enjoy ourselves. I took it slow on Chris's cock and felt him slow down on mine.
Martin's thrust, though slow, were long and deep. Soon he pulled out and with a couple of hand strokes climaxed. Shot after shot of thick white cum arced forth from his cock to fall on Chris and myself. As he finished, he leaned forward and whispered to me to turn on my side. I did and Chris dropped down to lay next to me, each of us sucking on the other's cock.
There was a rustling of chairs and I became aware of men standing round the stage, their cocks out in the hands being worked hard. Cock after cock rubbed on my body, hands groped and explored. Chris put his arms around me and drew me in tight to himself. I clasped him tight in my arms. Jets of hot cum splattered onto our bodies, then more and yet more.
I lay there, my arms around Chris, his around me. His cock was in my mouth, mine in his. Around us stood men we did not know, viewing and touching our naked bodies as they wanked off and shot their loads over us. I felt strange, in a way dirty and debased, but also excited and aroused.
Load after load of cum splashed over us, then it stopped. A large towel was thrown over me and I was picked up by Martin, who, now already dressed, started to dry me off with the towel. He kissed me and said I had done well, then told me to dress quickly and that we could clean up at Jock's.
As soon as Martin had wiped the cum off me, I dressed and went over to the corner to put my shoes and socks on. The lights were back on. A few of the men came over and thanked me, saying they hoped to see me again. Some gave me a tip, I saw Chris and Martin getting tips as well, so followed their example and slipped them in my pocket. Philip came over and gave me a ten-bob note, saying he hoped to see me on Sunday.
Whilst we had been putting on the show Jock had been packing up most of the kit. As the men were leaving, he was close to the door with a box of magazines that he was offering for sale, quite a few of the men bought some, he also had a notebook. Every now and then one of the men would speak to Jock and he would make an entry in the notebook.
Chris came over to me and said we should get the screen down. By time we had finished that the last of the men had left. Jock fastened up the box of magazines and then grabbed the picnic blanket and towels which he pushed into a large duffel bag. Bert helped us load the car, then he opened the gates and we left. This time I was seated in the front. Martin had left with one of the men, the one he had been speaking to with Jock earlier. Jock complemented me on how well I had done and said that Chris and I made a good team. I did not really listen. All I really wanted was to be in the back with Chris.
It was not as late as I thought it was when we got back to Jock's. It hadn't even turned eleven. Jock told us to go upstairs and have a shower and get cleaned up, he also added that we should have some fun and relive ourselves.
Chris led the way upstairs, not to the room where Jock had put the oil on us but another at the back of the building. This was the strangest room I had ever seen. It was a large room with a massive bed in it, covered in black silk sheets. One corner of the room was tiled over as a shower stall, and there was a toilet bowl next to it. The thing that made the room really strange for me was the fact that there were large mirrors on each of the walls and on the ceiling over the bed.
We both stripped off. I followed Chris's lead in that. Chris turned and kissed me.
"You cum?" he asked, I shook my head. "Na, me neither, come on then!" He jumped onto the bed. I joined him looking at our reflections in the mirrors. Within a couple of minutes, we both climaxed, spraying our boy juice over each other. Then we showered and dressed then went downstairs. When we got downstairs Jock was waiting with a plate of sandwiches and some tea. We eat the sandwiches, I was starving. As we finished our tea Jock paid up. He gave Chris a wad of ten-shilling notes, which he shoved into his back pocket without counting. He then gave me a wad of notes, I went to do the same as Chris, but Jock told me to count them. There was six pounds, I was amazed, my cousin who had recently started working on my Uncles farm had been boasting that he got eight pounds a week. I had earned nearly as much as he did for a forty-six-hour week in just one evening. Damn it, my father only got about twenty pounds a week.
Jock told me to be careful about spending it, otherwise people would start to ask questions. This he was to emphasis time and time again to me, be discreet. In fact, it was never really a problem for me as I tended to spend most of the money I got on stuff that did not attract attention, mostly books. Once I had money I started to go into Walsall and buy books at the second-hand books shop. They had boxes of books outside which you could get for three or six pence each. That is English old pence, six pence is equal to two and a half pence today in the decimal currency. My father just presumed that I was buying cheap second-hand books because I could not afford to buy new books from the bookshop in town. He would have been horrified to know what I paid for some of those books, like the first edition of Kim, which I got with that first day's pay.
Jock offered to get us a taxi to go home or said we could stay there if we wanted. Chris looked at me, knowing that if he came back to my place, he would have to sleep in the guest room. If we stayed here, we could sleep together, even if it would mean that Jock would probably join us. I looked at Jock and said we would stay. With that the two of us went back upstairs.
Once I got in the room, I counted up all the tips I had been given. Most of the men had given me florins or half crown and there was the ten-bob note from Philip. In total I had one pound seven shillings and six pence in tips, making my total take for the evening seven pounds seven shillings and six pence. Not bad when one considers that some five years later, I was to start work as an apprentice hairdresser on the wage of four pounds ten shillings a week.
That was my first time working for Jock. I was to work for him a few times each month for the two and a half years. I was never one of his main boy's like Chris or Martin. Mostly because I could not get away from home for late nights or overnight stands like they could. I would though usually do one party a month and would also service the odd client in the mirror room. Occasionally if my parents were away for the weekend, or I could make the excuse I was going fishing with Chris's Uncle, I would go with a client to their place for the night, usually with Chris or Terry. Jock did not like the younger boys going on an overnight stand on their own, unless they knew the client very well. In the main though I worked the "Saturday shift", that was going to the client's on Saturday afternoon or evening.
Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.
[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]
* Some browsers may require a right click instead
