I was thirteen-years old, JIMMY ROBERTSON, was twelve. Jimmy had a fondness for removing his white "HANES" T-shirt, stuffing it inside the left back pocket of his Bermuda shorts, exposing his pale, pink boy-breasts, with their "silver-dollar" honey-colored nipples, while catching the afternoon's summer sun, and turning his muscular lad's back, to a golden-brown, switching his girlish hips, to-and-fro, as he paraded across the softball diamonds of my Bronx youth. My eyes fixated on the dimples of his sacroiliac, the crease of his gluteus folds, his ass-crack, visible just above, the skewed panty-lines, of his "Fruit-Of-The-Loom" tightie-whities.
"... ROBERTSON!!! You walk like a FUCKIN' - GIRL !!! A FUCKIN' - GIRL, who just wants to be FUCKED!!!"
"... Sit on it, and rotate, SONNY!!!" Jimmy "flipped" Sonny Fitzgibbon, The Finger, coquettishly glancing over his left shoulder, winking a "come-hither" look, at his cat-caller, accentuating his cissy lisp.
"... Sit on it, and rotate, MOTHER - FUCKER!!!"
Jimmy did walk just like a girl, a girl who wanted to be fucked! And I wanted him to be my girlfriend ... and to fuck him! As I stared at his teen buttocks, I was stunned by my first teen erection, pounding in my pants. Socially inept, awkward, I would never have a real girlfriend. But Jimmy, would provide a more than adequate substitute.
"... Hey, BIG MIKE, wanna know a secret?" that obscure object of my desire wanted to take me, into her confidence.
"... SURE!!!"
"... Well, me, and Kevin Trainer, and Kevin Schwartz, got us a clubhouse, up on the grounds of the Kingsbridge Veterans' hospital. You can join our club ... but, there's an initiation rite ... "
(... OOOH!!! I sure hope it involves Sodomy!!!)
"... And, you gotta swear, not to tell anybody what we do, up there--not even your brother. If my mother ever found out what we were doin' up there, she ' d kill me!!!"
(... OOOH , BABY!!! This sounds almost too good to be true!!!)
"... YEAH!!! YEAH!!! I swear!"
"... Okay, Friday night, eight o' clock, meet me on Bailey and Sedgwick Avenue ... "
My lust, could barely contain itself, for the next two days! That Friday, I palmed a purse-sized jar of "VASELINE," from my older sister's pocketbook, in anticipation of the new-found wonders of Pedophilia, which I was soon to be initiated into ...
Jimmy Robertson, Kevin Trainer, and Kevin Schwartz, were all present at the designated rendezvous point, behind the Fordham Hill Apartments. Kevin Trainer, was A "Faggot"; at eleven years old, he was the youngest of this "daisy-chain." Kevin Trainer, was obviously the femme "bottom-boy," for Kevin Schwartz, the Macho-Butch, star-athlete, the "Little-League" fire-ball pitcher. And, Jimmy Robertson, would soon be "MINE"!!! Jimmy the Sodomite leader, took "point," leading us through dirt trails, into the jungle of the Veterans' Hospital grounds.
" ... Watch Out ... !!! The guards patrol these gardens with K-9 attack police-dogs!!!"
( "... H O R R O R S!!! To be surprised mid-breach, by the agents of Justice!!!")
And there, beneath a bower of bent-over brush, brambles, and vines, covered with sheets of corrugated cardboard, and balsa-wood slats, ripped from packing-cases , was the "Club-House Of Iniquity"!!! The place reeked of pederasty, and pre-pubescent sex-games. Jimmy Robertson orchestrated the entire performance.
" ... OKAY !!! We gotta be fair, to the "new-comer." When I count to "THREE," everybody pull theirs' outta their pants!" Jimmy smirked, lasciviously.
" ... OKAY !!! ONE !!! TWO !!! THREE !!! PULL !!! "
OH ! The joys of that one, brief, fleeting Moment of Truth !
Jimmy Robertson, stood there, with a pack of "KOOL MENTHOL 100 ' S ," in his hand, which he stole, from his older sister's purse. Kevin Trainer, had a pack of "KENT III ' S," which he stole from his mother's handbag . Kevin Schwartz , had a pack of un-filtered "CHESTERFIELDS," which he stole from his father's NYC Sanitation Department overalls.
And ME ? I had my " C O C K ," in my hand, pre-lubed, twitching, in pre-orgasmic tension,"and a shit-eating" grin, plastered all over my face!
" ... HEY, B I G M I K E ... ? What are you showing me, your B O N E R , for ... ? "
( ... The little sarcastic " B I T C H " !!!)
One second stop .
" ... U H ? 'cuz I gotta take a 'leak'? YEAH! I gotta piss, so bad, I got me a ... ?
... a 'piss - hard - on' !!!"
" ... Those rose-bushes, back there, are for quick pisses, B I G M I K E !!! We don't want our club-house smellin' like a 'shit-house' !!!"
Kevin Schwartz , eyed me , suspiciously.
" ... Y ' Know, B I G M I K E ... ? I heard Jimmy Sullivan sayin' you wuz ... ?
... " QUEER " ... !!! "
I hurried off, over to the rose-bushes, to expel my foul bodily fluids, and bent my raging, semi-erect member, back inside my "SEARS" brand "jockey-shorts." When I returned to the club-house, the other three boys were smoking like the fiends of Hell.
"... Hey ? B I G M I K E ... You ever smoke, before? Be honest, now, don ' t lie . I bet you never did it."
Jimmy mocked me in his most seductive, feminine voice.
" ... Wanna try it, just this once?"
My will-power, was weakening ...
" ... It's not like you're gonna 'catch' somethin' from me ... like ... Cancer ... "
I could resist no longer! Jimmy slowly removed the stick from between pursed coral-pink lips, his saliva, still glistening on its end, and proffered it to me.
"... You WANT it ... I can see it in your eyes ... take it ... "
He pressed it up against my mouth ... a single thread of spit, still clinging from the filter, connected to his delicate mouth. I was his. He eased it between my trembling lips, thrusting inside, rubbing it against my all too willing tongue.
"... Suck on THIS, for a while, B I G M I K E ... !!!"
I was his, to command, and I sucked, and I sucked, and I sucked for all I was worth, drawing the smoke, deeper, and deeper down into my lugs; the musty taste of the loamy tobacco, accentuated with the piquant tang of menthol , mixed with Jimmy 's own man-juice, as he pressed the cigarette poised, between the graceful fingers of his dainty manicured hand, up against my face.
"... That's right, that's right! That's it, Baby! OH GOD! Open up your throat for more, you Little Nelly BITCH !"
The true addict, remembers the very first time, using a new drug of choice ... and confesses that he was "hooked," that very first time he ever tried it. That invisible line of addiction, crossed from the very start. I was addicted to cigarettes, from that very first experience ... but ... was it the Nicotine? Or, was it Jimmy's bedroom-eyes, that was the "monkey-on-my-back"? I spent that Summer, locked in the bathroom, ruminating over the ramifications of "Greek Love," paperback "PENGUIN CLASSIC" edition of Plato' s "Symposium," in one hand, COCK, in the other, the virtual image of Jimmy Robertson's sweet, sweet tight little bum, dancing in my mind's eye, "whacking-off," furiously, while huffing and puffing on pack, after pack of
"KOOL MENTOL 100 ' S."
[ B A M !!! B A M !!! B A M !!! ]
"... M I C H A E L !!! Stop that! Stop doing "That," inside there !!! You'll go blind !!!"
( "... Too late, too late ... !!! ")
"... You' ll Stunt your growth ... !!!"
( "W H O O P S !!!")
All good things, must eventually come to an end. The "salad-days" of Youth, are over, gone forever.
Jimmy Robertson graduated to "cruising" Van Courtlandt Park Lake, at night, looking
for older men, to support his two carton a week "KOOL MENTOL 100 ' S" habit. At age 17, my father signed me into the United States Coast Guard Boot Camp, as an alternative to drug rehab. There, I was introduced to the ritual of the "smoke break."
"... Smoke 'em, if ya got 'em , boys !!!"
My shipmates would whip out Polaroids of their girlfriends, in bikinis, and sexy, skimpy, revealing lingerie, as they puffed away on their "MARLBOROS." All I had in my wallet was a strip of stark black & white photos, from Woolworth's snapshot booth, of Jimmy Robertson, staring at the lens, working on a "KOOL MENTHOL 100."
I quit "cold-turkey."
by Big Mike
This story, in a slightly different, perhaps little lengthier format, originally appeared in Big Mike's 81 Pounds (Pretty Pollution Press).
BIG MIKE is Bronx-born Emergeny Room RN now residing in Bayside Queens. An unrivaled story teller he reveals just how gritty the underbelly of New York City can get in his critically acclaimed collections of emergency room and childhood recollections 81 Pounds and Sibling Rivalry both from Pretty Pollution Press.
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