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Mansion of Men


There was a strange craving in Jock Short that could only be resolved by homosexuality. It was a craving that brought him the deepest insights to love, brutality, pleasure and terror.

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Mansion of Men
Kym Allison
This page copyright © 2009 Olympia Press.
The footsteps shuffled with a gritty echo over the cold cement and came to rest before the tile edged porcelain trough. The heavy h ands with stubby fingers mechanically eased the metal buttons out of their h oles, and reached in to pull it out... balls and all. As the yellow stream cascaded forth from that fountain and splashed into the long trough, the youthful owner rubbed his hand s up a bronzed belly, caressed his navel, more firmly stroked the pectoral muscles. Th en, with hands gripped behind his neck, the tapered back arched forth with a slight u ndulating action to coax the last trickle of moisture from his male spigot. The stubb y hands took the return trip back down that sensual muscular structure, firm skin, le aves of tiny hair, till one hand softly fingered that area just beneath the navel, while th e other hand gripped about IT to make certain all the liquid was drained. Then those fing ers scratched at the sac beneath that now seemed a bit irritated from the mixture of sand , salt air and the returned flow of blood after being so tightly bound in the form fitt ing tightness of the faded levis. The men's room was uninhabited, so the youth leisurely stretched again as his bountiful appendage hung freely from its cloth cage. The sun had reflected glass-like off the water, off the sand. It took a few moments for the vivid blue eyes to adjust to the briefly lit ce ment block building. At length those same eyes were able to focus on the hieroglyphic sc rawls eye level above the porcelain trough. Some of the inscriptions were just plain vu lgar, others quaint, still others down right clever... a few pathetically sad... but one i nvitation practically leaped off the wall into the immediate consciousness of the beholder:“Fun for young men of pleasure... two miles south down the beach.” The shuffling sound of sandy footsteps heralded the approach of an intruder. Jock returned his dangling part into the confines of his jeans, placing IT into position. As a shadow blotted daylight from the doorway, the last button snapped into place. Jock felt self-conscious at the intruder's presence, and quic kly left the shadowed area to return to the late afternoon sun. There was a chill in the mid March air. Jock's skin tightened with a prickly salting of sand. He shielded his eyes and surveyed the naked b each as far as he could see in either direction of the California coast line. He s trolled out toward the water, then started to jog south. A thunderous roar penetrated the distance. Jock sha ded his eyes as he instinctively looked up for a low flying plane. The crisp blue sk y revealed no foreign objects... not even a cloud. The roar crescendoed with a spurt of violent power, then vanished into a far distant whisper and into nothing. Jock removed his sandals and bounced down the beach like a playful pup on an exploratory quest.
Jock Eustace Short was a mistake. Perhaps that is w hy Hiram Short allowed that the name of his third son should be almost a cruel joke . Hiram had been nick named Jockey while in the army... a temporary career he l oathed from induction to discharge, and never forgot or embellished upon after it was o ver. Hiram had never wanted more than one or two kids of his own, so after the first three, two boys and a girl, were born, he took little interest in the four others that had the misfortune to follow. But a large family on a farm in Colorado, in the semi-mountaino us area between Denver and Colorado Springs, sort of fit into the scheme of th ings. Jock was fifth in line and had to fight to make a place for himself. The farm boy grew strong and rugged in the years of long hours of labor. He was extremely sensitive, imaginative, a dreamer of magn ificent dreams: primarily of the star he would one day be, for his true aspiration was ai med toward being in motion pictures. Perhaps this was attributable to those long hours o f contemplation while doing his chores... he had never studied acting, only dreamed . Jock discovered sex at a later age than most youth, when he was finally raped by an older woman. He continued to submit to her desires, however, once these little trysts were over, Jock had an inexplicable urge to seek a satisfaction he had never received... nor would he ever receive from that or any other wo man. Some basic ingredient was missing. He had had a few other minor affairs with assorted females that left him ravenously starved with a strange hunger. He could not psychol ogically analyze the cause, he only knew it existed, and it troubled him. One day, shortly after he had turned nineteen, he w ent to Denver for a couple of days, and decided, at the urgings of his mother, to take a room at the YMCA. The desk clerk was a large man in his thirties with twinkling eyes that seemed to photograph every inch of the farm boy. Jock held ou t his hand for change, and perceived, as it was placed in his hand, that the d esk clerk had accidentally drawn an invisible line with his finger on Jock's palm. It c aused an electric sensation. Jock pulled his hand away. The coins scattered on the counter. He felt flushed. As Jock settled in a private room, he remembered th e expression in the desk clerk's eyes, then the touch on his palm. He stripped and l ay nude on the bed, while he reflected upon the strangeness occurring in his liq uid imagination. He stretched and caressed his body. He closed his eyes, and, in half sleep, saw the desk clerk once again surveying his body. As he moved his hand down his body, he reached, in passing, toward his crotch where he was becoming mo re and more aware of a throbbing action. He held his organ in his hands an d wondered at its rigid stiffness. He rose and examined his perpendicular appendage in the mirror. It was the proper size he surmised, whatever the proper size was. He wrapped a towel about himself and went into the shower, which was in a small bathroom shared with the neighboring room. The rooms were so constructed that upon entering fr om the hall, one was in a small vestibule from which three other doors open, one to each of the two rooms and the third to the bath. The adjoining room was unoccupied at t he moment, but from sheer modesty, Jock wore the towel as he went into the ve stibule. After a lengthy shower, where he lathered his male part with such vigor that IT had to release its contents, Jock dried himself, retire d to his room and sprawled on the bed. It was dark when Jock awakened. He had been dreamin g, and he awoke erect and uncomfortable. He sensed there was something terrib ly disturbing about what he had just dreamed. For some singular reason he thought o f two male dogs they had on the farm: Lad, a Collie, and King, a German Shepherd. T he animals were inseparable. Jock
was their favorite member of the family. He recalle d the dogs curled up in each other as they slept to generate body heat; recalled them nuz zling each other, licking the other between his hind legs, his balls, and, Jock wasn't certain, but it seemed... Well, whatever they were doing, Jock found himself a grea tly aroused observer. Someday.... His thoughts broke off as he felt himself getting h otter and hotter. He wondered what it would be like to have a male tongue put there... what it would be like to put his hot tongue there on another man. Quickly he grabbed his towel and headed for the bat hroom, only to find the door bolted on the inside. Apparently the adjoining room had been rented. Jock returned to his room. He thought of a neighbor girl with whom h e had had sex a couple of times. He couldn't remember why he went back the second time, except that she teased him mercilessly. Her name was Sharon Pruitt... and she had a brother, Ron, who was an athlete three years older than Jock. Jock rationali zed that he feared having sex with Sharon, lest Ron discover them and take umbrage at such activity. Jock wondered if that was the real fear he had of Ron... or whether he feared the tall handsome letterman for other reasons. And, if so, what were they? Even during the perfunctory sexual act with Sharon, a drab uninspired routine, Jock found he was primarily stimulated by his thought of Ron... of...it, he wished that damn guy would finish in the bathroom! That evening, without catching a glance of his neig hbor, Jock went out for dinner. He found a clean looking cafeteria and went in. After his tray was filled, he found a table where he joined a man with a newspaper held above h is face. It was several minutes before the man opposite Jock lowered his paper. The ir eyes met briefly in passing, the newspaper returned to its earlier position... then rapidly lowered again. “Hi!” the round faced, heavy set man beamed. “Forgo t my glasses... didn't recognize you at first. My name's Jim Barrett... Work at the YMCA Hotel.” “YMCA?” “Spelled Y-M-C-A.” “Oh, yeah.” “Don't tell me, let me remember. Short...” Jim chuc kled, “Jock E. Pardon my laughter. It struck me funny.” Over dinner the two became more acquainted. But whi le Jim Barrett flashed personality, proper charm, and disarming joviality, Jock felt that his banal mid-western phrases were really saying something else. Jim's ey es sparkled with an unspoken, yet highly intriguing invitation. And, for a fleeting m oment, a picture of Lad and King focussed into Jock's mind's eye. “Care for a drink?” Jim asked at last, and his tone seemed to indicate an invitation to something more. “Too young.” Jock blushed. “They won't serve me.” “Always go to my place.” Jock felt the blood rush to his head. “Well....?” “Sure, why not?” * * * Three drinks were easily Jock's limit. The conversa tion had drifted hither and yon, and Jim seemed to be observing it all with an astut e eye. Jock rose from the chair in which he had been sprawled and crossed to the Windo w. He had already remarked about how well decorated he felt Jim's place was, t hree or four times, when the conversation had reached a lull.
“You sure got a helluva good view from here,” Jock said a bit unevenly as he hazily gazed at the panorama of lights spread before him. “What's that?” “Where?” “That.” “You mean with the gold dome?” Jim asked as he move d to the window. “Yeah.” “The capitol. The whole dome is goldleaf. It's just a couple of blocks from the Y.” “Oh, yeah?” “Uh-huh. You can see Lowry field... that's the airp ort over there.” Jim was pointing in an easterly direction. “Oh.” Jock looked into the smiling face next to his. “A-A nd that?” “Where?” “I... a... over there... way over... I...” “Do you really want to know?” “Want to know what?” Jock was trembling. “What that is over there?” “I... well... sure... I guess,” Jock stammered. “Well, that's going out toward Littleton...” “Littleton? No, I don't really want to know what th at is.” “Whatdo you want to know?” Jock stared deeply into Jim's strangely handsome la ce. He smiled as he realized he was blushing. “Guess you think I'm kinda funny. Wel l, actually... I mean... you see, we have these two dogs...Lad and King... one's a colli e... Lad is... King's a whatcha m'callit... both male... Goddamn, I don't know how to ask for something I've never asked for.” “Such as?” Jim's mouth glistened, his round face on e complete smile. “Such as....” Jock averted his eyes. “Gee, that's p retty over there...;“Such as?” Jock shot a frightened glance back at the big perso n beside him. “Have you ever... I mean... I was just wondering... I mean... Have you ever kissed...” “Kissed? Many times.” Jim flashed a kissable smile. “I mean, kissed a....” Jock wanted to sit down. He realized he was saying something he had never planned to say. It was just there and he had to ask it. He felt the sudden warmth of Jim's hand on his shoulder, felt it ease gently down his back until it rested at his slender waist with an inviting pressure. “You k now, I mean... sure lots of girls... but...” Jim's lips were so close to Jock's that he could fe el their compelling vibration before they touched. “That answer your question?” It answered one question, but asked many more.... q uestions that would take a long time before the answers would be understood. “Well?” Jock seemed petrified. “You asked.” Jim spoke softly with real concern for the feelings of the confused young man before him. “.... Or was that what you we re going to ask?” He lessened the pressure of his hand on Jock's back. A befuddled ex pression shadowed Jim's face, a faint sadness touched at the corners of his lips. “ Do you want to hit me or something? For Christ sake, say something?”
Jock's eyes glistened. He took a step. “Want'a escape? Want'a run?” Jim cried defiantly as he moved away from the boy. “Or maybe it's me. Maybe I'm too presumptuous... no t pretty enough... too old. Hell, I'm a loving human being with more love to give than mo st! Sometimes I see a person like you... guess I project too much of my inner desires into an innocent expression.” He turned to scrutinize Jock as he slowly moved toward him. Jock came to rest directly in front of Jim. He gazed deeply into those eyes that had searched for the tiniest taste of love. There was loneliness there. The mouth on that round face twitched in its turned down comers. Jock judged that with those sensuous l ips, that mouth was artistically oriented, and only needed to be coaxed with his own . Jock reached his hands to touch the softness of Jim 's belly. It was so different from his own, somewhat like a woman's. He moved his hand s toward the roundness of Jim's chest, even more so like a woman's... yet that cove ring of hair which he could feel beneath the shirt gave it a more exciting sensation , because it indicated a masculine strength within. “Keep that up,” Jim said, “and you'll get more of the same.” “I think that's what I want,” Jock returned, surpri sed at his sudden certainty. “I've never done this before with a man, and I.....” Jock stammered until he felt Jim's mouth cover his, felt his short fingers dig into the stro ng young muscles of his back, move down until Jim clutched both cheeks of the firm, yo uthful buttocks. Jock threw his entire body against Jim's so that the throbbing within his pants pushed hard against the throbbing within Jim's. Jim's mouth atop Jock's was hot, the lips parted, t he tongue gently beckoned Jock's to enter. Jock wanted to scream as he plunged his tongue forward. He moaned as Jim's strength drew his body with such force that they ne arly lost their balance. Tenderly, Jim reached down to grope Jock's bulging fly. No statue 's could have been harder. “Let me get these damn clothes off,” Jock urged. “I want you to answer my question all the way before I burst wide open!”
Jim had lighted candles in the room, shadows danced over the two naked bodies on the wrinkled sheets. Jim lay cupped in Jock's arm, his gentle snoring was like a kitten's purring. Their passion had raged on until Jim had s ighed with exhaustion, and begged for a slight respite. Both had soon fallen to sleep , but Jock woke after a short nap, a bit uncomfortable sleeping with a stranger. He looked d own at Jim, whose warm body pressed against his. It was so different from a wom an's. Immediately after intimacy with a female, Jock had always been ready to jump out of bed and leave at the vaguest pretense. Intimacy with a woman had never been like that experienced with Jim. Here he wanted to stay. Jim had no well defined muscles, at least on the surface, but beneath there lay a certain masculine-feminine stre ngth that had reached out to Jock to fulfill a definite need within him. Jock began to have second thoughts about such a com promising relationship. He sensed he should feel guilt that his manhood was th us violated... but he didn't really. Hell, he felt more a man than with any of those dam ned women he had lain with. With them, he could, at best, come but once... once was enough. But he had already dropped three massive loads into Jim's persuading m outh. He should be tired too, but he wasn't. He wanted more, not because he hadn't be en satisfied, but because it was so good! Remembering the magic of Jim's passionate techniques, Jock was more than aware of the muscle rising between his legs. He mov ed his body so that the stiffness of
his joint probed into the softness of Jim's lower b ody. Jock brushed his free hand over Jim's tousled hair, and when Jim seemed to purr on contentedly, Jock reached his lips down to interrupt the escaping air from his mouth. Jock pried his tongue into Jim's as he felt him return from slumber and reach out to embra ce the youth. Hall awake, Jim automatically moved from Jock's mou th to his chin; his hand clasp to Jock's hard pectoral muscle. Then Jim's tongue p lunged down to the nipple on that area where his hand had been. “Oh, Jesus H Christ!” Jock choked as his body writh ed beneath the studied action of Jim's adept tongue. The big man's hand had moved do wn the fine satiny fuzz of Jock's belly to below the navel where the hair grew stille r and in greater black profusion. The hair was not the only thing grown stiffer in that p lace. Jim's fingers played through the hair, down to softly caress the inside of either of Jock's thighs, teasingly, before clutching the full scrotum. “God damn, but that's fantastic!” Jock all but yell ed as Jim's tongue leisurely followed the course his fingers had just taken. The tongue on that silken hair, short and soft with the tenderness of just past puberty, stim ulated all the tiny nerve ends in Jock's body. He shook with convulsive spasms, whimpered ec statically. The pain was beautiful! The agony beyond description! It had to end or he would scream into complete madness! Yet, if it did end, he would scre am even louder in frantic protest. “Oh, goddamn! Goddamn!!” Jock grabbed Jim's face with his two hands, and yan ked the mouth from its goal. He lured Jim's head toward his own, until those lips m et his. He clutched at Jim's nipples, and squeezed the roundness of his chest with his stubby fingers. Jim wiggled and threw his body against Jock's rhythmically. The kiss was long and wildly exotic. Then slowly Jim worked his way back to that crotch. He kissed t he delicately tender area between Jock's legs, just below the plump balls. Then the tongue washed its way up to the firmly wri nkled scrotum, up the bulging neck along the swollen tube within to waxen head, b efore his mouth allowed IT enter, and pushed down until his lower lip was softly touc hing Jock's balls. “Oh, God! It's unbelievable! I can't stand it! Oh, baby!! Jimmy, do it baby, make me...! Make me... Yes... yes... now... Now, Jim, I love it! I....” By day light, Jim and Jock were soundly asleep in e ach other's arms, beautifully exhausted after a full night of pleasurable pain. Back at the Y, Jock slept until two in the afternoo n, while Jim bubbled merrily through the day, as if, the night before, he had ha d the most restful sleep of his entire life. Those who knew him remarked on his effervesce nt gaiety. He was quite another person... and he would be the first to agree. Jock delighted in remembering. Somehow it didn't ma ke him feel so all alone in the world. He particularly liked remembering Jim Barret t, because he was one of the truly good people he had ever known. His only regret was that their worlds were really at such distances apart. He promised to meet Jim at 4:30 that afternoon when the big man finished work. Jock went to the basement for a short swim in the p ool. When he returned to his room, he heard the faint sound of chatter behind his neig hbor's door. One voice was lispy and high pitched, the other, deeper, ordinary mid-weste rn... and vaguely familiar. A while later, towel draped, Jock went to use the bathroom. His neighbor's door opened at the same time he opened his. Each opened and closed jus t as quickly. A moment later they were both slowly pushed open again. “Well, Jock! Jock Short! Imagine seeing you here!” the big blond boy said with a hint
of nervousness in his voice. He reached to pump Joc k's hand with such vigor that Jock felt himself wiggling out of his wrapped around tow el. He managed to retrieve his hand and terry cloth adornment in the nick of time. Obviously the big blond boy had the same intention of using the lavatory facilities. Jock observed the tiny honey white hairs embedded i n the handsome youth's skin. “Well, I'll be... Ron Pruitt! What brings you to De nver?” “Drove Sharon up to Boulder last night.” Ron smiled , his mouth oozed a sensual personality. “Driving back tomorrow morning. If you 're in a hurry to shower, I can wait.” “No... no hurry.” “Or....” Ron's eyes twinkled with dancing anticipat ion. Then he remembered that Jock was one of his sister's boy friends... one wit h whom, he suspected, she had had an intimate relationship. “Or?” “Nothing.” Ron's face reddened. “Go ahead.” “Sure you don't mind?” “Positive.” Jock crossed into the bathroom. He left the door aj ar as he reached into the shower to turn on the water. “You drive up?” Ron asked from the vestibule. “Huh?” Jock returned as he peered out the door, holding his towel in his hand. “Drive up... or come by bus?” Ron questioned as he tired not to make an obvious survey of that well proportioned body before him. “Bus.” Jock slung the towel over the rack and absen tly rubbed his stubby fingers over his belly. He stepped beneath the tepid flow o f water. “Going back tomorrow?” Ron wondered as he entered t he bathroom, certain his voice could not be heard over the shower. “Huh?” “If you're going back tomorrow, you can ride with m e.” “Do what with you?” Ron bit his tongue to keep from answering with the first thought that came to mind. “Better stop the chatter and let you get your showe r over with...” “Either that...” Jock laughed as he lathered his arms, ”... or get in here with me.” Ron did not answer. A moment later Jock's head came pok ing out. “I said...” “I heard you.” “You soap me, I'll soap you.” Jock grinned boyishly without consciously being aware of any possible implications. “One good turn deserves another, they say,” Ron chu ckled, wondered if he could trust himself in such close proximity with Jock. “Chicken!” Jock badgered. “Pot's callin' the kettle black,” Ron said, and set his towel on the toilet seat. “Well, you asked for it!” The shower stall was not designed for two boys with builds resembling football players, but the two managed to squeeze in, avoidin g brushing against...