I'm just going to summarize my homecoming, because it wasn't much fun. He took his belt to me, but fortunately he didn't ever turn me around facing him. Good thing too, because my stupid dick started acting up. So there's no telling what would have caught his attention first, me getting an erection or me all at once not having any hair.

But after a couple of weeks, it had grown back. I didn't really have much to start with. The rumor about how shaving makes your hair grow faster seems to be just another urban legend, though. A month or so passed. I remained relatively inexperienced. Only then...

---

Timothy Leary McViddy came into my life. That boy was even weirder than I was!

Mr. and Mrs. McViddy were born-again hippies who started attending our church. Or at least that's how my father referred to them. It really wasn't a negative comment on his part, though. I mean after all, we had some born-again drunkards and born-again womanizers... all of us were either sinners or had once been sinners, so as far as he was concerned, the only negative aspect was their former lifestyle, but now that they were forgiven, he no longer held it against them.

Only Timothy wasn't born-again. You could tell that much by his sullen expression the first time they visited our church. And (said my father) if he was to ever going to be serious about getting right, he'd get his hair cut. He almost looked like a heathen girl!

That's what first caught my attention: I was trying to figure out if he WAS a girl. He would have made a cute one - flat-chested, sort of awkward looking and very skinny with his hair braided in dreadlocks. I was pretty sure he was a boy though. Almost had to be. He was wearing worn gray corduroy pants which he'd just about outgrown. I glanced again at him out of the corner of my eye. Tight fitting, too. No, that wasn't a girl. He seemed to be decently well-endowed. Which was surprising because he was so frail looking. So I was intrigued, but to my credit I only stole a couple more sidelong glances at him for the remainder of the service. Well, I sure didn't want to scare them off after just one service.

That first Sunday when my father invited them over for Sunday dinner I was really nervous and at first Timothy seemed to be mostly disinterested, but once he discovered that I hated having to go to church all the time too, he was all wide-eyed curiosity wondering what there was to do in Atlanta. I was surprised. His life seemed much more interesting. He was born in England and named after Dr. Timothy Leary, the high priest of LSD during the late 60s. They lived in London until he was seven, then they moved to northern California where they were part of a commune. Then when he was eleven, his dad decided to move his family to Hawaii. On the big island. Almost a tropical paradise with hardly anyone else around and more often than not, he didn't even have to bother with clothes! Nor did his parents, in fact they had often enough gone naked at that commune in California as well. But his dad had recently had an acute religious experience while under the influence of hallucinogens. Possibly mushrooms. Or maybe it was jimson weed. But at any rate, he felt led to Atlanta. So he was driving around and he saw our church and... "This is the place," he said. Imagine that.

And so that night during the Sunday Evening Evangelistic Services, I was very happy as he and I sat together in the back. If we'd never been more than just friends, I could've lived with it for a long time.

Until they could afford something better, they were living in a run-down residential motel on the wrong side of the tracks. Mr. McViddy had a job at as a mechanic while Mrs. McViddy worked as a waitress, both during the day. The first time I was over at his place we mostly watched TV and played cards. The next day (a Thursday), I went over again. This time we played basketball for awhile. So after we finished, Timothy decided he needed to take a shower. I wanted to follow him into the bathroom, but decided I'd better not. I had to be cool. Sooner or later I'd probably see him naked if I didn't let on.

So I was watching TV trying not to think about it, when he yelled out, "Hey Wesley, could you bring me the shampoo? It ought to be on the counter by the sink." (Just outside the bathroom.)

"Yeah, okay," I said reluctantly. You know I did. Be still, my beating heart!

But with a decent show of nonchalance I entered the bathroom and handed him his shampoo. "Thanks" he said, "Why don't you stay in here and talk?"

Duh... Well, okay. Since he had his back to me, logically that's what I noticed first. He had an average behind.

Well, it was a very cute behind. Because it was his. And I also noticed that he didn't have a tan line. Which verified that he'd run around naked not long before. I didn't mind, but actually, I've always thought that pale behinds in contrast to tan everywhere else was very seductive.

Gingerly I took a seat on the commode. "So I don't know, I mean what do you want to talk about?" I asked as I studied the bathroom interior. It was a sight. Two chipped metal pipes went from the floor to the ceiling. Just above the commode, several square feet of plaster had long since disappeared leaving behind bare wooden slates covered with dirty wet cobwebs. The ceiling was discolored and looked to be on the verge of falling into the floor. A large yellowish-white tub took up most of the floor. The bottom of the tub was black. The tub had no curtain. Above the tub, the shower head also appeared to be on the verge of falling out. I wasn't going to just sit there staring at him, was I?

"Oh, I don't know" he said over his shoulder, "Tell me how you can stand having to go to that church all the time."

"It ain't easy," I answered. "I guess you know my old man is going to try to convert you."

He turned to face me. "Convert me to what?" he asked as he scrubbed his hair with his eyes squinched shut.

"Oh you know. Well, I guess you do. He'll ask if you want to get saved and all. Like your parents... " and then I trailed off lamely. It was decent. About the same as mine lengthwise, but larger in circumference. And his balls were bigger. Not by much, but they were. He had a little rectangular black bush. I liked it.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked as he continued working the shampoo into his hair. Thankfully, his eyes remained tightly shut.

"Uh, what do I mean about what?" I'd been distracted.

"I mean just what am I supposed to be saved FROM?" Satisfied that he had thoroughly scrubbed his head, he let the shampoo set in and started washing on his... his penis! Without turning his back!!

"Oh shit, I don't know..." (In fact, he was washing the head.) "Shit. My folks don't think-" (Was he jerking off, or WHAT?) "... I don't really know what they think half the time." (It was definitely getting stiff!)

"Well, I sure don't know. I don't know what's wrong with my old man either. I mean he's... ah! ... on one weird trip and I'm... getting tired of it. ... Oh yeah! ... You ever do that?"

While there is no way I could have been any harder, that did give me a charge. And a little preliminary squirt. "Do what?" I asked.

"Toss yourself off, stupid. You ever do that?"

"Sometimes" I answered as noncommittally as was possible.

"Shit. ... You don't sound like you enjoy doing it very much."

"Oh... I do it enough. Don't worry, I enjoy it a lot" I answered. At that point, he stopped soaping it and started rinsing his hair. But I couldn't help but notice that his penis had increased quite a bit in length. A little over six inches I guess, which hardly qualifies it for the Guinness Book of World Records, but to me, it looked really really big. It was bouncing stiffly, slightly above horizontal.

"My folks have been on a weird trip ever since I've known them," I added ruefully as I attempted to change the subject.

"Well, if mine don't get off of it, I might just take off." Then he opened his eyes.

Quickly I glanced away. Flushing a little and with a slight tremor, I asked, "Take off where?"

"Oh, I don't know. LA maybe. It's a cool place." He was by then washing under his arms.

As earnestly as I could, I looked him in the eyes. "Well, how would you eat? Where would you stay?"

"I'd get by. Maybe I'll sell drugs. Shit, maybe I'll just peddle my ass. I'll get by somehow." He had moved down to his stomach. His penis bounced stiffly and seductively in front of him as he washed himself.

I couldn't think of anything to say. I wasn't even sure I heard him right. He couldn't have just said what I thought he said, he just couldn't have. I looked down at the floor.

"You don't believe me?"

"Well, I really don't think you should run away," I said miserably.

"Oh, I'm not going to right away. I'll give it a month or so anyway. My folks are always going off on weird trips. Usually they don't last all that long. Then they're off on something else."

I was still trying to collect my thoughts. He turned the water off and began drying himself. I was still mostly looking at the floor. Then he asked me, "You want to fool around some?" Just like that. He was almost casual about it.

I don't know what I thought right then. It's hard to sort out everything that was bouncing around inside my head. But I know I took seriously his talk of running away. That meant I wouldn't be seeing him any more. Which made me feel bad. I mean, I'd just met him. I also wasn't sure what he meant by peddling his ass. Maybe he didn't really mean it the way I thought he meant it. And what did he mean by fooling around? Was he just talking about us tossing ourselves off? Or was he talking about something else entirely? And if so, then what? Oh shit. Maybe he was putting me on. Or maybe he just wanted me to give him a blow job. If that was it, how did he find out about me? Did it even matter? See what I'm talking about? I was mixed up. So not even knowing what I was agreeing to, I stammered, "Yeah, I guess."

"Well, let's see what it's looking like" said Timothy. He then knelt down in front of me and unzipped my pants. Just like that. Then he felt around for a second or so before asking, "You want to stand up?"

I stood up uncertainly. Very matter of factly, he pulled my pants and underwear down and my penis popped up standing straight and tall. Not as tall as his, but nothing to be embarrassed by.

"Not bad, Wesley, not bad at all. I wish mine would stick up the way yours does. Mine just sticks out in front." He pulled on it a couple of times. I gasped involuntarily. Then calmly he asked, "You want me to blow you?"

Several weeks later, after being released from the cardiac unit of intensive care...

Just kidding. "Uh, well, I'll do anything you do" I blurted out all in a rush.

"Cool" said Timothy. "So go on and get undressed. I'll be on my bed. And try to slow yourself down a little. The way you're going now, you won't hold out a minute." Then as he walked out the door he added, "Shit, you probably won't hold out very long anyway. Well, I'll do you twice then."

Well, when Timothy Leary McViddy actually closed his mouth around my PENIS, I almost went off right then and there. I said "GOOO... Hey, Timothy, wait just a minute, okay?"

So he asked, "Yeah? Something wrong?"

"No" I answered with feeling, "I just want you to straddle my face, all right?"

"Oh" he said knowingly. "Well, I hate to disappoint you, but sixty-nining is not nearly as easy as you may have heard, it fact it can be rather distracting, but under the circumstances, we'll give it a go." And so we did.

Once I got somewhat used to it, I discovered sixty-nining to be a bit distracting at that, but on take one it hardly mattered since I came very quickly indeed, as much from what I was doing to him as from what he was doing to me. But he lasted for at least ten minutes. I was mostly working on his velvety soft head, paying particular attention to his pee hole, but was experimenting occasionally to see just how far down on him I could go. Only it seemed my deep-throating technique needed some fine-tuning. But he still said I did a good job and I could tell that he was enjoying himself. And I enjoyed it as well.

In the next few weeks we did it all, we did it repeatedly and we didn't do much of anything else. We were planning on running away before the end of the summer. We were going to Belize. We would live in the jungle. And naturally we would go naked. We wouldn't even HAVE any clothes. And of course we would never have to worry about anybody calling us queers. I mean he came right out and said he was. Said he didn't want to be anything else. But he didn't like being called names. (He had been in the past.)

His parents had no idea he was gay, by the way.

"What would happen if they found out?" I wondered.

"I have no idea" he said. "Would you like to mention it to them and see how they'd react?"

"Well, no. Tell me something. When did you figure out I was?"

"I sort of suspected it first time we visited your church because you kept sneaking looks at me, and then when you were watching me in the shower that day we first did it, I could almost feel you looking at it even with my eyes shut. Then when I opened my eyes, I could see that you had an erection, so I thought why not?"

I was to learn many things about him. For instance, he first had a girl when he was nine! I mean he stuck it in her and had an orgasm. She seduced him and while he couldn't shoot off, he certainly could have an orgasm. And of COURSE it felt good.

He liked girls, but he liked boys more. His first homosexual experience came while at that commune when he was ten. He'd played around every once in awhile since the age of six, but only with boys about his own age. But then when he was ten he was sucked off for the first time by an older boy. And he said he rather enjoyed that as well. Then only a few days later he - Timothy I mean - managed to talk the older boy into fucking him. And he definitely enjoyed that.

At the time he first mentioned being backdoored I was a bit taken aback, even if he had mentioned peddling his ass previously. Because ten seems awfully young, so I asked, "Didn't it hurt?"

"Oh sure, it most definitely did at first, but it felt good too. You want to give it a try?"

"You mean you want me to do it to you or do you want to do it to me?"

"You had better do me first. You see, until you can learn to relax you may find it a bit painful. And you will probably bleed a bit afterwards. It usually happens the first time or so. And after it's over, you may have an involuntary bowel movement. It can happen with almost no warning. And really, no matter what, it's going to be messy. So I feel I should warn you. I found it rather enjoyable in spite of the pain, awfully much so, but if you would rather not, then that's all right. But still, you really should get behind me and give that end of it a go. Would you like to?"

So at that point I said, "You must think I've never had it up my ass before."

"You HAVE?"

"Well, one time I sort of got raped. ...So I know what can happen all right. 'Cause it did." It felt good to be able to discuss this with someone, but then I noticed that he looked slightly disappointed. He enjoyed being the most experienced, I think. Which he really was, and besides, what had previously gone up my hole wasn't quite that big, even if it was still big enough to hurt. (It's not exactly like I measured the thing.)

But at any rate, not being real sure about either end of it, but still wondering what it might have been like for him, I asked, "Well, all that stuff you said could happen? Did it happen to you?"

"Oh yes," he answered very promptly, "although my first time wasn't with Robert actually." (Robert being the older boy. He was seventeen.)

"Well, you said it was. So who did stick it in first? I mean, I wouldn't know him anyway. What was it like? Were you really only ten?"

"Ahem" said Timothy very nearly. "Well you see, my parents at that time basically believed if it felt good and didn't hurt anyone else or the environment it was okay. Of course now I'm being told it was Satan who told us that. I don't agree, but... Oh, perhaps I shouldn't tell you this. Do you really want me to?"

"Well, if you don't mind, yes, I would like very much to hear it."

"You'll be shocked, I'm afraid."

"No I won't."

"What's the weirdest thing you've ever done?"

"Aside from what's been going on for the past few day... I guess... well, sometimes I pull my pants down and paddle myself... I don't do it very often but... I don't know, I just do sometimes."

"That is somewhat strange, I suppose. But not nearly as much as you seem to imagine. But okay. Now, first you must understand that there were some strange people at that commune. Very much so indeed. For instance: Not that this has anything to do with me, but there was one gentleman who was forced to pay a visit to the emergency room with a zucchini up his ass. What I mean to say is, that he had been poking himself with that thing and I suppose he kept working it in deeper and deeper, you know, in a bit, out a bit, until finally he pushed it all the WAY in and then without warning, his hole closed. And it was stuck. The zucchini, I mean."

"Oh" I said.

"I've never fucked myself with a zucchini" he quickly continued, "but I once did... ah... well, you see, at the commune whenever the weather was permissible, it was quite all right not to bother with any sort of clothing, in fact, it was rather expected. I liked to pretend I was a naked savage. So once I was on a long hike by myself. Well, after awhile I was joined by a German Shepard who belonged to... oh, I've forgotten who he belonged to. I suppose he belonged to the entire commune. But anyway...Oh shit. I can't tell you."

At that point I lost it. I couldn't help it. It was awhile before I could STOP laughing.

And that was the first time I saw him actually get embarrassed. It was a struggle but finally I managed, "I'm not laughing at you. Well, I guess I am too. But you were only ten, shit-"

"Well fuck!" he blurted, "I just wanted the bastard to LICK my hole and he did... at first... but I guess he got horny and see, I was on my hands and knees and by the time I figured out what that dog had in mind, it was too fucking late!"

I sobered up briefly. "Well, I still love you. I mean, if I'd thought of it when I was ten I might have gone for it too." (I was just saying that to make him feel better though.)

"Yeah, well, it hurt."

I can imagine. And from what I've read in some sex fantasy books, I bet it took awhile too.

But in case you're still interested, when Timothy took me, it did hurt. To say the least. But it was a truly memorable event.

I was on my back with my knees about even with my face. After a good deal of preliminary finger fucking and gentle lubing, the moment of truth finally arrived. "Now if it hurts too much, just let me know, okay?"

I shook my head yes.

"Okay. Now I'm just going to ea-se it in a bit-"

Well, you cannot ease something that big in. "Ouch!" I said. While involuntary, it was heartfelt.

"You want me to pull it out?"

"No" I managed, "Just go slow, okay?"

Only as it turned out, that wasn't a good idea either, not when you feel like you're giving birth in reverse, it sure wasn't. I have no idea what it feels like to give birth. Except now I just might. And after a particularly difficult period of labor, I've heard it said that many mothers-to-be feel like saying, "Get that thing OUT of me!" and that's what I felt like saying, but figuring it couldn't possibly hurt any worse, instead I managed, "Just..shove it... in all... the-"

And so he did. "Umpth!"

And then, "AEIIGH!!! OH SHIT!!!" ZING!!! BOING!

I'll translate that. Although "AEIIGH, OH SHIT" hardly needs any translation beyond that it could hurt worse after all. But then (ZING) he hit my button. THAT button. And yes, it felt like an electric shock. And then (BOING) my dick, which had almost gone flat, wasn't anymore. Just like that. It was amazing.

So while the pain certainly didn't go away, it did fade into the background. Jolt after jolt after JOLT... but not too many, because all at once, KABLEWEY. First couple of shots went completely over my head into the floor behind me. What a mess! (We were doing it that first time in the floor of the bathroom. On a large pasteboard box cut out flat. And I was soon to find out what that was all about. It really was a mess. But let's not dwell on that.) Except to say that it was messy and I was glad Timothy had the foresight to take some precautions, but in spite of everything, it was well worth it. And so of course we did it again. Many times.

A couple of times we went shopping at the Goodwill Store for old clothes. One time we bought a dress, a skirt, two slips, a lovely blouse, a training bra and two pairs of panties. Then at Wal-Mart we picked up two pairs of nylon hose. The kind you wear with a garter belt. And two garter belts. We made LOVELY girls. Or at least cute. We put on lipstick and everything. I wore the training bra, he went braless, but wore the blouse. Then we tore our clothes off. Just ripped them off. Wrestling, you know. It was a trip! So back to the Goodwill store we went again. And of course we eventually ripped that clothing to shreds as well. Except the garter belts and nylon hose. They were too expensive. And it was also a trip to pretend you were trying to look up some girl's dress only to suddenly discover the girl wasn't wearing any panties and also wasn't a girl. And occasionally we ripped our regular underwear off of each other. In fact, Mildred was starting to wonder where all my underwear was going.

But sadly, all things that are fun must eventually come to an end. At least that's how it always seems to work out for me. Late one afternoon Timothy was raping me. Pretending, you know. So picture if you will the scene: We were in our garter belts and nylons. That's all. I was on my back with my knees about even with my face. He was poking me vigorously. My legs were waving around like I'd lost control of them. Which I pretty much had. But then the door opened. It was someone who had a key! Like his dad, for instance.

Well, his dad let out a roar and bounded across the room in just about one step. It was a small room anyway. And then he grabbed Timothy by his neck, threw him to the floor and started screaming at him to get his clothes on.

So of course I was looking frantically for mine as well. But I couldn't find them. Where WERE they?

"And YOU, just get out! Now!!" said he to me.

"I'm..I... I'm looking for my clothes" I said quite reasonably. At least I sure thought it was reasonable.

"I said...get out!!!" he screamed, then he shoved or possibly hurled me out the door and slammed it shut. So I was upset, of course. I was scared to death wondering what was going to happen to Timothy. And I was also naked except for my nylons and garter belt. And as I've already mentioned, I was in a bad neighborhood and they probably don't take kindly to people dressing like that around there. Only maybe being martyred wasn't such a bad idea. I had to consider that. But before I figured out what I was going to do, Mr. McViddy flung open the door again and told me to get my butt inside. So I did. It seemed best, because if nothing else, I could get killed along side Timothy.

"Sit down!" he said. Timothy was almost dressed by then. I could not help but notice his discarded nylons and garter belt lying forlornly in the corner as a reminder of our late great passion. But at least I didn't see any blood. I sat down on the bed with my hands covering my midsection.

"Where are your clothes?" he demanded.

I wasn't sure.

Timothy found them for me. Silently I got dressed.

For the longest time nobody said anything at all, but finally Mr. McViddy started in with the verbal abuse. It was severe and you will forgive me if I don't repeat his remarks. But at least he didn't believe in physical abuse. He said he felt like it, but he wasn't going to. So whatever happened to Timothy, he wasn't killed.

They moved back to California a few days later and I never heard from him again. But one day we'll meet again, I'm sure of it.

But yes, Mr. McViddy called my father and wondered if he could drop by and pick me up. And he mentioned why. In fact, he was fairly explicit.

My father didn't have much to say. Really, he didn't. He knocked on the door and said to me, "Let's go" and I suppose he apologized to Mr. McViddy. Nothing was said on our way home. Not a single word.

But when we pulled into our driveway he said, "Why don't you and I pay a visit to your room? It seems to me like we need to have a little talk." He certainly seemed anxious to get on with it, as we walked to the house I couldn't help but notice that he'd already removed his belt and was experimentally smacking his palm. I fully expected to die. Well, it seemed possible. Maybe he wouldn't mean to, but he would anyway. It could happen.

But anyway, the two of us entered into my room. My father closed the door. "Get your clothes off," he said.

My hands shaking, I pulled off my shirt, then with my back to him I stepped out of my pants. I couldn't bring myself to look at his face. I was fairly sure that my hole wasn't twitching anymore, but I had no underwear on. I mean, I'd put on my skimpy lace panties before leaving for Timothy's, but he'd gone and ripped them to pieces. But I did still have on the garter belt and nylons. I never had a chance to get them off. I worried about those things all during our trip home, because I had a feeling they'd probably have a really bad effect on him.

Well, I guess my garter belt and sadly sagging nylons did indeed have an effect on him, but it wasn't what I expected. He sighed audibly and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. "Just go ahead and get dressed and take that queer stuff off. I'm washing my hands of you," was what he said. I can only guess that the enormity of what Mr. McViddy meant when he said that he had caught his son and me committing an act of sodomy at last fully sank in. While he was fairly explicit, modesty or something prevented him from getting down and dirty. So occasionally there might be something to be said for that.

But it wasn't quite the end of the story. As you might well have guessed by now, considering the title of this story. Even if it wasn't quite what I had in mind.