Who Your Blogger Is . . .

I started this blog to relate some of my experiences in being gay (and married). Though I suppose I've always been gay, born that way -- I didn't know what gay was when I was a kid. In fact the word did not even exist back then in the 1940s and 1950s. You were queer or homosexual, but not gay. Any gay act was described as either "a crime against nature" or "sodomy", especially when it was published in the hometown newspaper, and especially after being convicted of it in the courts. I do remember my father saying to me when I was about six years old, "Stop being a sissy!" Well, he must have recognized who I was. And as a preschooler, I did like dressing up in my mother's clothes and playing with dolls. No, it wasn't GI Joe then, but it well could have been Billy (anatomically correct-cut) or Carlos (anatomically correct-uncut) later on. Carlos is shown here:

Growing up I was curious about where babies came from and the birds and the bees, but my attention was always drawn to men's crotches. What's in there? Watching ballet on TV thrilled me seeing that manhood showing through the tights, as well as those virile male circus performers. Boobs just never turned me on. There were not many places to look, but I enjoyed the Sears, Roebuck catalogs showing men's briefs or better yet, to get a copy of National Geographic and see some natives in some tribe somewhere in the world buck naked! That was all before television and even when TV arrived, the code of standards was so strict and conservative that no woman was ever even pregnant.

Younger than most of my classmates in junior high and high school because I started first grade prematurely at age five, and because puberty arrived late for me, I suffered humiliation and embarrassment in tenth grade physical education in which we first had to take showers and be seen naked. All the other guys had pubic hair, but I looked like I had shaved down there. Their dicks were also bigger than mine. One guy was the son of the Superintendent of Schools, and even though he was only about a year older than me, his dick was very, very long! or at least so I thought then, and I tried not to stare at it! Also, my mother thought I needed more male socialization and made me join the YMCA.

 This was in the 1950s and the first instruction was to learn to swim. Again naked with boys of all ages and older naked male instructors, which looked to be pretty hung to my young eyes.

I was also different from the other guys because I was uncircumcised, and ALL of them were cut. Why was I so different? My dad and my uncle were not circumcised either and I had seen them naked or pissing, and so before I had to strip in school and the Y, I thought all males had foreskins. Was I ever wrong! So not knowing anything other than what I was, I had no idea what the difference means. Was it better for the head of your cock to show or was it better to be hooded? At that time maybe because it was so different and fascinating, I thought those cut cocks looked sexy.

Of course, it was not too long until I started putting that foreskin to good use at about age 14, and at least three times a day. It would never have occurred to me that a guy might need lotion or lube to exact that same wonderful feeling of pleasure that I got using my foreskin, especially around the frenulum. -->

And still does!

As I entered puberty, I was warned that I would have nocturnal emissions, and not to worry about it, because it is normal, and all guys have them. Well, I have NOT had even the first WET DREAM! Why, if all guys have them? Probably in my case there was no "wet" (cum) left over, because I had jacked off from one to three times each day. But I did have sexual dreams, mostly guys, but an occasional gal, and most every morning woke up with a hard-on. As a teenager that morning wood would sometimes get me in trouble, such as when I hiked on the Appalachian Trail, slept in sleeping bags in a "lean-to" in mixed company. Something usually woke us up all about the same time--it was HARD to get out of my sleeping bag without exposing a "tent" of my own.

GROW-ER OR SHOW-ER: Until after I realized that I was gay, I thought all dicks were pretty much the same but coming in all sizes. Whenever I was naked with other guys, whether in the locker room, shower, etc., I was pretty embarrassed that my dick was on the little side compared with all the other men. After I started comparing my dick when it was erect with other erect gay dicks, I was no longer quite so embarrassed. That's because I am a grow-er. My dick is only 2 to 3 inches flaccid, but grows to between 6 to 7 inches erect. Then I began to realize that those big dicks I had so envied flopping around the locker room and showers really got no bigger when they were hard. Instead of hanging down to the floor or "hung," they jumped to attention, but remained the same size. And some of those bigger flaccid dicks seemed to have a harder time trying to point upwards -- mostly they just pointed straight out.

During the summer months, I had a job in one of the research labs at the local university and this lab had some great microscopes. One afternoon after everyone else had left for the day, I unzipped my fly, pulled my dick out, and jacked off with a resultant big load. Suddenly I got the idea to put some of my cum on a microscope slide for a closer look. Well, what beauty -- all those little animated swimmers going in all directions seeming in a hurry to get somewhere! Certainly no need to worry if my family jewels were capable of carrying on the family name.

So I got through high school and college ogling all those dicks, but guessed all guys just did that, and all along I was dating girls. For the most part just had a good time without being sexual more than just some kissing and that was pretty bland too. Thought I was in love with a girl because we shared all the same interests and dated her for a couple of years; then decided it was time to get married. I proposed and she accepted and we had the usual pomp and circumstance -- a lovely wedding and reception. We left for our honeymoon just before dark in my car heading north. Found a nice little restaurant for dinner and then soon after a motel for the honeymoon night. Had this motel in mind all along, but had not made reservations; didn't matter as they had plenty of vacancies. Honestly, I was more worried about the upcoming night than where it was to occur. That's because I was a virgin -- yep, 20 years old and had never done it before. In preparation, I had abstained from touching myself for 3 whole days! That's was a mistake because my young sexual apparatus was used to coming daily and was very ready to shoot off! So we got ready for bed and she went into the bathroom to change and in the meantime I put on some new shorty PJs. Well, she came out in three or more layers of negligee, some that I could not even unfasten. Fancy outergarment unbuttoned finally, then bra unsnapped finally, and those panties! Everything very white and frilly with lots of lace and I don't know what all. We were under the covers as I was trying to remove this stuff with her help and my boner had already popped through the opening in my PJs. Lots of fumbling, but we did manage to accomplish the act in the missionary position -- much too quickly due to my heightened pretension buildup with a premature ejaculation almost as soon as I was in. Thankfully, she did not know any better because she too was a virgin -- proven the next morning by the bloody sheets as a result of her broken hymen. She had come from a very strict Baptist background and thus had saved herself for me! That was the beginning of our sexual experiences, and over the years, they did not change a whole lot. My first son was born 16 months later. And yes, though not in a particularly sexual way, I did and still do love her very much.

I have two sons who were born in 1965 and 1970, and they were both circumcised as soon as they were born! No one asked me for my permission, and I don't think my wife was asked either. If she was, it was probably during an anesthetic stupor. Of course, if my permission had been asked, I would have refused as I already knew the benefits of that foreskin. My wife's first obstetrician was a very conservative Roman Catholic who would not prescribe birth control. He probably also thought that having a foreskin would make masturbation too easy and he certainly wouldn't advocate that; it might lead to blindness or insanity! So we changed to a Jewish OB-GYN. Well, we all know how they feel about circumcision. To be a mensch, you must go through the rite.

The life I lived for the next five years or so was pretty straight as I was busy with my job and my family. Sex with the wife was pretty boring as she always wanted the missionary position, but on rare occasions I would get her to sit on top of me, which was much better for me. I could penetrate deeper and bump into that cervix better. However, I still wanted our sex life to be much more varied. So much I wanted her to suck my dick, but I just knew she would think that perverted. One night I got into the 69 position and went down on her rubbing my tongue gently all around her clitoris. She seemed to like that a lot and gingerly reached over and pulled my dick into her mouth. Ah, success! So we starting do more of our sex that way and it seemed that I very quickly brought her to orgasm, at which time she wanted my cock plunged deep into her cunt. At least that was somewhat more satisfying.

I often enjoyed riding my bicycle after work around the local university or down to the nearby beach on the bay. Well on these long bike rides, I would need to piss. Restrooms were plentiful at both places, and I soon found out they were great for casual sex, especially blow jobs! There is nothing quite so good as horny gay college guys. It would not be just one on one sometimes, but rather a group orgy going on in those tearooms. They also had great glory holes, which was a new discovery for me. My favorite tearoom was in the LRC. When you entered, there was a room with sinks and shelves for books. Then you entered through a squeaky door into the orgy room which consisted of three stalls with glory holes between them. The two stalls on each end had doors, but the door of the middle stall had been removed. Sitting on a john, you faced a wall with four urinals, so the guys if they were pissing would have their backs to you. Of course as soon as they finished pissing, they just stood there looking at the dicks to either side of them; then, reached over and started a hand job. When they got going really good, they would turn and face the stalls and usually the hand jobs turned into blow jobs, sometimes with the guys sitting in the stalls. Oh did I spend many an hour there just addicted to the place.

This anonymous casual gay sex continued through 20 years of marriage. My wife and I had sex less and less frequently until it was about once a month, because I was "too tired or too stressed out." Well, you would be too with all that extra-curricular activity going on. We were growing apart because we had fewer common interests and I was dissatisfied with the city we were living in and wanted to move back to my home state, so after 21 years of marriage, we separated. My being gay never came up, and has not with her to this day. We remained friends and good communicaton between us continued mostly because of our sons, as it has to the present. After being separated for 7 years, we divorced as our sons were grown.

After the separation, I lived in my family's vacant farmhouse with my younger son, who was still in high school. After high school, he left for college, and now I was alone and free to pursue my gayness. I joined a gay outdoor hiking club and went on weekend hikes around my state from the mountains to the seashore. Men from 25 to 50 were members of the club and soon I was becoming friends with men of my own age and in similar circumstances.

My first true gay relationship developed with Craig who lived in another city about 60 miles away. Since we both had professional jobs, we could only spend weekends together either on a hike, at his apartment, or my farmhouse. Like me, he had children, a son and a daughter, and an ex-wife. They all knew about his gay lifestyle and were very unaccepting, even hostile. Craig also had a sister who was a lesbian. Craig and I along with his sister and her partner took a wonderful vacation together in the mountains with white-water rafting being the highlight of the trip. Admittedly, it was difficult to carry on this long-distance relationship, and Craig started seeing a young man who lived near him. It must have been the youth that attracted him, because this guy was not very intellectual and was not capable of sharing abstract and learned ideas, that Craig and I so often shared. It really hurt me that Craig left me, but he remained very true to his new lover. They bought a home and lived happily until Craig got pancreatic cancer. After diagnosis, he lasted only about 3 months, but we had several phone conversations during that time. I went to his funeral and even eulogized him. Only his daughter from his family was there, and she later came up to me and thanked me for my words.

Another one of my hiker friends was Ed and was he a looker -- young and very athletic. In his mid-twenties, he had just finished post-graduate work at the university and had a new job. We both were on the hiker association board, and he would frequently come to my farmhouse to help me get the monthly newsletter out. Several times on overnight weekend hikes, we would share a room, but sadly never share a bed. I would lie on my side awake half the night watching his body as he slept. Our friendship was just that -- we were very close friends, but nothing sexual ever developed. Perhaps he thought of me as a father figure. Indeed after our long discussions, he did come out to his family in Boston. Being an avid mountain biker, he and my son sometimes went on bike rides together. The last I heard he had moved to Seattle.

After living at the farm for about six years, I took a new job down at the coast and moved three hours away. My good friends, a gay couple named Steve and Paul helped me move. After becoming involved with the Metropolitan Community Church, I met a very nice man named Johnny. We would often spend nights together, especially Saturday night. I loved to listen to Pipedreams, a pipe organ program on public radio on Sunday mornings when we woke up, and he would tease me about it. Once he accompanied me to Baltimore, where I had gone on a professional convention. Other weekends he would spend with me at the farm. He was very kind to take care of me when I became sick for a while, especially running errands for me. Our sexual relationship dried up, but he is a good friend to this day. He works to help disadvantaged families and kids. He has a big heart.

My next relationship was with Al, a university professor back at the hometown near my farm. A mutual friend introduced us over the internet and we began emailing.  Al wanted to know my experiences with being married and getting a divorce because he had decided that he needed to get a divorce too.  We lived three hours away from each other, so at first we just got to know each other by email.  Finally, we decided to meet at a local eatery where he lived.  Our conversation went well so I took him up to my farm and showed him around for a couple of hours.  The atmosphere was somewhat sexually charged, but we did not do more than just touch each other.  On the way back while I was driving, he said that he just had to get into my pants and began rubbing my crotch.  With about 15 miles yet to go, I was trying to hold him off and I took him back to his place and he took liberties with me.  Now it was even more sexually charged.  I finally was able to leave, but our emails grew more frequent and more heated.  Thus began a number of months of wonderful weekends together, both at my farm and my home on the coast.  A couple of the weekends were spent at his home, but I was very nervous the whole time and afraid that his wife might return unexpectedly from her out of town visits.  The following summer I became very sick with pulmonary emboli while I was on vacation at the farm, couldn't breathe and called Al.  He took me to the university hospital emergency where they triaged me quickly.  I was very surprised the whole time that the emergency room staff treated him like family and my significant other, keeping him in the loop the whole time.  Hospitalized for the next 10 days to dissolve the clots,  Al and the rest of my family visited numerous times, and some of the visits were simultaneous, so the family members got to meet my good "friend."  Later Al even took my younger son for a whole day visit to the university and showed him around.  They got along great, just as my younger son had been very accepting of both Craig and Ed.  Another time, I had another big family event at the farm cooking a "brunswick stew" and Al was invited.  He was just like another family member and everyone had a great time.  To my surprise, I was never grilled by any of my family members about my relationship with him.  Because of the separation caused by living so far apart, our emails continued throughout our relatonship.  I've thought that they would make a great book if published as an example of how two men can really love each other.  Perhaps I will publish them in this blog some day.  The owner of my ancestral home near my farm is a gay man who has beautifully restored the home.  Steve and his partner Paul have always been so great.  I had always wanted to sleep in the house that my great-great-great-great grandfather had built in 1778.  Steve invited Al and myself to spend the night there together.  It indeed was special. There was a lot more involved with Al and myself than sex, although sex was always present and I loved his hairy body.  Al and I were just on the same plane when it came to conversations about philosophy, the arts, etc.  He was a prominent political history professor at his university.  Then one day I began to notice a change in him, especially toward me.  I confronted him about it, but he denied that there was anything between us.  Turns out though he had met a young fellow, whose body was much more attractive to him than mine.  After all, I had lost the glow of youth, but again as with Craig, this young man was not Al's intellectual equivalent and had no more than a high school education.  So I lost Al and it hurt deeply for months because I thought he was the one, and that we had so much going for us. 

It was while I was with Al that my mother at age 83 figured out that I must be gay.  She surprisingly, to me at least, was very accepting and liked Al immensely.  We took her out for a special 83th birthday dinner. 

For a while after that I was very lonely, so I began reading the male-male ads in The Advocate classifieds. To my surprise there was an ad placed there by someone near my farm.  His name is Billy and he is 28 years younger than myself  -- actually half my age.  Now, I was beginning to understand why my former lovers were leaving me for younger men.  He has an incredible cut cock, which became aroused very easily with just a kiss or my touch on his jeans.  He wore tighty-white briefs that could not restrain his erection very well, and when I pulled them down, his cock slapped his abdomen.  His erect dick is the hardest, and pointed higher than any dick I have ever seen.  Whenever I pulled it straight out to suck on it, and it slipped out of my lips, it hit his tummy again!  Best of all after a long night of blowjobs, was to cuddle in bed.  Whenever I awoke during the night, I would gently rub his shaft and dickhead and it would soon be erect again without him ever waking up.  I could play with him that way for hours wondering what he was dreaming about.  After work, he would come to feed his dogs, and when I was in residence, he would come in to feed me.  Billy was somewhat shy, did not have a lot of self-esteem, and we would talk for hours while I would try to build his self-esteem.  Sometimes we would go out to dinner at local restaurants and to movies, but more often just stayed in at the farmhouse.  After several years, I began to realize that we were using each other.  For him, it was a place to keep his dogs, enjoy the outdoor experience of walking the farm.  For me, it was companionship and sex when I was at the farm.  More and move often, he would bring along his mother when he came to feed the dogs.  Or he could not spend the entire night with me, because he had to go home to mother.  So I decided to break off the relationship and asked him to remove his dogs from my farm. That was five years ago. I still wonder how he is doing . . . I have not had a relationship since then. 


Recently, using today's technology of social networking that is Facebook, I found a high school friend that I had last seen at our graduation some 49 years ago.  There actually had been three of us best mates in high school and he had kept up communication with the third member of our group. We were all just the best of friends not involving any kind of sex. Both of them had gone off to the Viet Nam war, while I hadn't.  The first guy had married just before going to Viet Nam, returned and had a son and daughter, and worked at the same institution for his entire life until retirement.  Very happily married, but soon I found out that he was bi-sexual.  The other fellow returned from the war and settled in New York City and never married, because he is gay.  While I was in high school, it never occurred to me that either one of them might be attracted to men, but I wonder now if that is why we were attracted to each other.  I did not know what "gay" was then, and I am not sure they did either.  The New York city fellow retired and moved back to his home state.  Recently, the three of us were able to reunite in person and renew old acquaintances.  It has been like we were never really apart, though it has been 50 years!  I think I like where the future is going, now that I am retired and have the time to explore new paths, and write this blog. 

An update:  The New York City gay guy, I will refer to as "Bears."  Following our October meeting, we became closer using email to exchange our experiences and feelings. In January I spent a couple of nights at his home. We shared a day going to the beach and going to an oyster bar. Then in March, we spent a week together at my farm. We even spent a day visiting all the places of our childhood together. Then we realized just have much we have in common and became closer still.  Bears and I continue to spend time with each other regularly at my farm, my beach house, and his small town home.  After all these years, we never grow tired of each other, and spend much of time laughing at shared experiences.

You can leave a comment here or email me at uncutplus@gmail.com.