The Maharajah of McPherson
Jan 1st, 2025 by Holiday
The book store owner lived a block away from me on McPherson Avenue in the Central West End. He was a middle-aged homosexual with long gray hair in a pony-tail, surrounded by a retinue of much younger people.
I showed up at his apartment just so he would suck my cock.
The owner of a fashionably chic, left-wing bookstore [The Evergreen Review, Rampart’s and infamous Grove Press titles by Burroughs, Genet and Miller], Bill was exclusively an invert.
At the time my sense of bisexuality remained unacknowledged – for the most part. I had a long-time girlfriend … the classic childhood sweetheart, known each other since age 10, dated in high school, a serious item in college …. so, I was straight, of course.
Yet on occasion I slipped into a zombie-trance and craved the ecstasy of a blow job.
The trouble is my girlfriend didn’t suck cock; at least not to completion.
Typically, my attitude about women at the time was: fuck, suck or walk. Those were my “idiot years” – and I can only attribute the Y chromosome for why I was such a lamebrain.
But my girlfriend was my first love, the Virgin, and a genuinely decent person. I wasn’t about to trash our potential because she disliked fellatio.
A male who sucked cock would do just as well – as long as there was no reciprocation … because, after all, I wasn’t a fag.
Continued.