In the month that followed my high school graduation and the drama revolving around the Prom Night bomb I dropped on Kathleen, I was resolved to continue to live in my parents house while I awaited some financial miracle which would deliver the thousands of dollars need to enter the college I had chosen to go to.
Bryant College (now Bryant University) was one of the premier business schools of New England and it was just 20 miles from home. When I was accepted, I was ecstatic. My friend Michelle from HoJo's was enrolled there in computer programming and I was looking forward to attending as a business administration major.
Deep down inside though, changes were occurring that would make that route more obscure.
Up until this time in my life, I think that each decision I made had concrete foundation in what "was expected".
At this time in my life, I still clung to the idea that I would go to this business school, get a degree, get a job in the business field, climb the ladder of success to eventually be a top executive of a company and also, maintain a "normal" home life of a wife and maybe a kid or two.
I so admired Ronald Reagan and wanted to join the ranks of the Republican wave of Yuppie Success.
Except for one little truth which tickled the back of my mind constantly and persistently, especially this pivotal season in this pivotal year.
I was GAY!
The events of this summer revolving around the apartment at Bradford Street would definitively cement that fact and turn my life in a whole new direction.
I don't remember who precisely came up with the idea, but somehow Michael P., my best friend; Jim, the boyfriend of one of the waitresses at HoJo's; Luke, his best friend; and, unbelievably Paul Douglas, offered me in on a shared apartment we would rent together.
It was a second-story 3 bedroom furnished place on Bradford Street, about 4 blocks from my parents house.
Because it was so close by and it was more of an expense than what I was paying my folks for room and board (and use of a full patio and in ground pool, mind you.) I was at first hesitant. But they goaded me on and talked me into it. I have to say, the thought of rooming with Paul D. was lure enough since I had a crush on him...though it turns out, in the end, I doubt he ever spent one night there.
The weekend we moved in, I was working a lot of hours at HoJo's so I brought my boxes of stuff and put it in my room, but didn't have a chance to come back to it until several days later.
(You see, we all had our parents to stay at so the place for the most part was just a "getaway". In some of the guys cases, they may not have even told their parents they rented this. It was, for the straight guys, I'm sure, their fantasy "playa pad" (though that phrase was unknown then). For Michael and Paul though...hmmm, I wonder what they envisioned it to be...perhaps something like it became for me? Read on....)
When I finally arrived to my new room, I saw my roommates had taken my stuff out of my boxes and arranged it in my room for me.
I had a big American flag which they had tacked to the angled ceiling and they had mockingly hung up my framed acceptance letter from Bryant College on the wall.
After the initial few weeks though, the attendance from most of the guys tended to dwindle. For Jim and Luke, I think they initially saw this as a cool bachelor pad to use as a fuck pit for their girlfriends, but their girlfriends didn't like the place so they continued to screw them either at their girlfriends house or in their cars.
Paul Douglas had to rescind his commitment after just one month because his parents would not allow him to move out. So he said.
Michael was in for a while and I think he kept paying rent for a couple of monthes, but he was never there. I don't think he spent one full night.
Meanwhile, even though I was the last to join on the plan, and was initially the least enthusiastic, the place soon became all mine to do as I pleased.
Coincidentally enough, around this same time, Larry P., Michael younger (16 year old) brother had gotten a job as a dishwasher at HoJo's.
Let me tell you....this kid was fuckin' HOT!!!!
Dark hair, blue eyes, tight muscular build and a shit-eatin' sly mother-fucker smile that would melt you where you stood!
He was solid PRIME GRADE A hunk, and he knew it!
Turns out...he had history.
He had been involved in a local scandal. A teacher at our Junior High had been arrested for sexual activity with a male student. The student: Larry.
Larry and I became quick friends...probably because I desired it to be so!
Larry told me that he enjoyed being fucked by Mr. Plante (the ruined teacher), but he preferred being the top.
During one drive from Providence (I don't remember now why we were there) he asked me if his brother was gay. I told him, I didn't know about that (though I did know he was but didn't want to out him), but I told him, I was gay.
He then wanted me to park off to the side of the road so he could give me a blow job.
After the quickie, he said he would be up for more in the future and I agreed.
I was in heaven.
But it would come at a cost.
Larry showed up at the Bradford Street apartment a few night later and I poured us some of my roommate Jim's vodka and Midori melon liquor to loosen us up.
I wanted to gobble up his fat and impressively-sized 16 year old cock and did so, but he was more interested in mine and after he sucked then beat mine off, he came, but still seemed ready for more.
He then got me to lay across a bed which happened to be his brother's (or nominally so since he never slept there), squeezed a bit of his brother's Tenex hair gel (the same impromptu "lube" I'd use a couple years later in Germany with John) in my crack, and stuffed his chubby up my ass.
"I'm fucking you", he said, as if I was unaware.
"I know", is all I could think to say back.
Larry had me totally under his spell. He asked if he could borrow my car and without hesitation I said yes. the fact it came back a little worse for wear each time was inconsequential.
Larry and I fucked a few more times in that apartment. It was especially hot after he joined a rock band and shaved his head. I thought his bald head made him look especially hot and in appreciation he took my hard cock and rubbed it against the bristly top of his head before we fucked.
He eventually returned from one of his outings with my Chevy Astra and it ran never right anymore. He had damaged it too much.
Paul D., the guy I was infatuated with initially, and my presumptive "roommate", was the guy I had originally bought the car from several months before and when telling him the car was practically dead, took the car back no questions asked. It was likely a lemon and he knew it when he sold it to me, so when I had troubles with it, he took it back. I didn't tell him the troubles were because Larry had fucked it up.
Once my car was gone...so was Larry. Turns out, that's what he was after all along. For the sexual joys it brought me, I was happy to give it up.
The loose consortium that was our apartment family rapidly broke up over the course of that summer.
Of course Paul never contributed at all, really. Michael stayed on for a couple months but dropped out since he wasn't using it at all. Jim got all pissed at me for raiding his liquor and since he was screwing his girlfriend elsewhere, he dropped out. Likewise for Jude.
So in the end, I was the last one there, and since I couldn't afford the rent on my own, though, undeniably I had gotten the most out of the place, I had to let it go.
But though I went back to live with my parents again...it would now be in a more private basement bedroom and though I didn't raise the money to enter Bryant College that year, I learned at lot more about myself at 12 Bradford Street than I would have otherwise.
Bryant College (now Bryant University) was one of the premier business schools of New England and it was just 20 miles from home. When I was accepted, I was ecstatic. My friend Michelle from HoJo's was enrolled there in computer programming and I was looking forward to attending as a business administration major.
Deep down inside though, changes were occurring that would make that route more obscure.
Up until this time in my life, I think that each decision I made had concrete foundation in what "was expected".
At this time in my life, I still clung to the idea that I would go to this business school, get a degree, get a job in the business field, climb the ladder of success to eventually be a top executive of a company and also, maintain a "normal" home life of a wife and maybe a kid or two.
I so admired Ronald Reagan and wanted to join the ranks of the Republican wave of Yuppie Success.
Except for one little truth which tickled the back of my mind constantly and persistently, especially this pivotal season in this pivotal year.
I was GAY!
The events of this summer revolving around the apartment at Bradford Street would definitively cement that fact and turn my life in a whole new direction.
I don't remember who precisely came up with the idea, but somehow Michael P., my best friend; Jim, the boyfriend of one of the waitresses at HoJo's; Luke, his best friend; and, unbelievably Paul Douglas, offered me in on a shared apartment we would rent together.
It was a second-story 3 bedroom furnished place on Bradford Street, about 4 blocks from my parents house.
Because it was so close by and it was more of an expense than what I was paying my folks for room and board (and use of a full patio and in ground pool, mind you.) I was at first hesitant. But they goaded me on and talked me into it. I have to say, the thought of rooming with Paul D. was lure enough since I had a crush on him...though it turns out, in the end, I doubt he ever spent one night there.
The weekend we moved in, I was working a lot of hours at HoJo's so I brought my boxes of stuff and put it in my room, but didn't have a chance to come back to it until several days later.
(You see, we all had our parents to stay at so the place for the most part was just a "getaway". In some of the guys cases, they may not have even told their parents they rented this. It was, for the straight guys, I'm sure, their fantasy "playa pad" (though that phrase was unknown then). For Michael and Paul though...hmmm, I wonder what they envisioned it to be...perhaps something like it became for me? Read on....)
When I finally arrived to my new room, I saw my roommates had taken my stuff out of my boxes and arranged it in my room for me.
I had a big American flag which they had tacked to the angled ceiling and they had mockingly hung up my framed acceptance letter from Bryant College on the wall.
After the initial few weeks though, the attendance from most of the guys tended to dwindle. For Jim and Luke, I think they initially saw this as a cool bachelor pad to use as a fuck pit for their girlfriends, but their girlfriends didn't like the place so they continued to screw them either at their girlfriends house or in their cars.
Paul Douglas had to rescind his commitment after just one month because his parents would not allow him to move out. So he said.
Michael was in for a while and I think he kept paying rent for a couple of monthes, but he was never there. I don't think he spent one full night.
Meanwhile, even though I was the last to join on the plan, and was initially the least enthusiastic, the place soon became all mine to do as I pleased.
Coincidentally enough, around this same time, Larry P., Michael younger (16 year old) brother had gotten a job as a dishwasher at HoJo's.
Let me tell you....this kid was fuckin' HOT!!!!
Dark hair, blue eyes, tight muscular build and a shit-eatin' sly mother-fucker smile that would melt you where you stood!
He was solid PRIME GRADE A hunk, and he knew it!
Turns out...he had history.
He had been involved in a local scandal. A teacher at our Junior High had been arrested for sexual activity with a male student. The student: Larry.
Larry and I became quick friends...probably because I desired it to be so!
Larry told me that he enjoyed being fucked by Mr. Plante (the ruined teacher), but he preferred being the top.
During one drive from Providence (I don't remember now why we were there) he asked me if his brother was gay. I told him, I didn't know about that (though I did know he was but didn't want to out him), but I told him, I was gay.
He then wanted me to park off to the side of the road so he could give me a blow job.
After the quickie, he said he would be up for more in the future and I agreed.
I was in heaven.
But it would come at a cost.
Larry showed up at the Bradford Street apartment a few night later and I poured us some of my roommate Jim's vodka and Midori melon liquor to loosen us up.
I wanted to gobble up his fat and impressively-sized 16 year old cock and did so, but he was more interested in mine and after he sucked then beat mine off, he came, but still seemed ready for more.
He then got me to lay across a bed which happened to be his brother's (or nominally so since he never slept there), squeezed a bit of his brother's Tenex hair gel (the same impromptu "lube" I'd use a couple years later in Germany with John) in my crack, and stuffed his chubby up my ass.
"I'm fucking you", he said, as if I was unaware.
"I know", is all I could think to say back.
Larry had me totally under his spell. He asked if he could borrow my car and without hesitation I said yes. the fact it came back a little worse for wear each time was inconsequential.
Larry and I fucked a few more times in that apartment. It was especially hot after he joined a rock band and shaved his head. I thought his bald head made him look especially hot and in appreciation he took my hard cock and rubbed it against the bristly top of his head before we fucked.
He eventually returned from one of his outings with my Chevy Astra and it ran never right anymore. He had damaged it too much.
Paul D., the guy I was infatuated with initially, and my presumptive "roommate", was the guy I had originally bought the car from several months before and when telling him the car was practically dead, took the car back no questions asked. It was likely a lemon and he knew it when he sold it to me, so when I had troubles with it, he took it back. I didn't tell him the troubles were because Larry had fucked it up.
Once my car was gone...so was Larry. Turns out, that's what he was after all along. For the sexual joys it brought me, I was happy to give it up.
The loose consortium that was our apartment family rapidly broke up over the course of that summer.
Of course Paul never contributed at all, really. Michael stayed on for a couple months but dropped out since he wasn't using it at all. Jim got all pissed at me for raiding his liquor and since he was screwing his girlfriend elsewhere, he dropped out. Likewise for Jude.
So in the end, I was the last one there, and since I couldn't afford the rent on my own, though, undeniably I had gotten the most out of the place, I had to let it go.
But though I went back to live with my parents again...it would now be in a more private basement bedroom and though I didn't raise the money to enter Bryant College that year, I learned at lot more about myself at 12 Bradford Street than I would have otherwise.