{"id":101,"date":"2010-01-18T08:49:36","date_gmt":"2010-01-18T08:49:36","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/brucebramson.com\/2010\/01\/18\/m-y-o-b-4\/"},"modified":"2010-01-18T08:49:36","modified_gmt":"2010-01-18T08:49:36","slug":"m-y-o-b-4","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/brucebramson.com\/?p=101","title":{"rendered":"M Y O B"},"content":{"rendered":"

CHEMISTRY<\/strong><\/p>\n

Among some old textbooks in my Dad\u2019s library I found a few about chemistry, and quickly developed an interest in that subject. Something about it \u201cspoke to me\u201d, and I found it very easy to comprehend. I converted an old potting-shed behind our garage into a \u201claboratory\u201d using various \u201cfound\u201d items. It was leaky and cold, so Dad helped me build something a bit more substantial: perhaps he realized I would soon be needing a place where I could be alone! I ransacked various middens around town for chemicals and containers and eventually got a chemistry set. I cannot imagine these are still available in anything like the form they were then: there were real<\/em> chemicals in sufficient amounts for numerous experiments\u2014or for committing suicide! But leaving this earth was far from my mind in those days, so I did the experiments, and learned. I begged a friend for his high-school chemistry workbook and did as many of those experiments as I could, as well.<\/p>\n

The friend who supplied that book was \u201cGerry\u201d, a chap four years ahead of me in school and far ahead of me physically. For some reason, he was willing to pal around with me. He had a scientific bent similar to my own, and we spent a lot of time together in the \u201cBramson Laboratory\u201d (so the sign on the door stated). I was fascinated by Gerry\u2019s prominent basket, and got up the nerve to push myself against it as often as I could, but never had the \u201cballs\u201d to grope him forthrightly. Damn! Mind you, I was still not getting my own erections yet, so my interest in Gerry was fairly innocent.\u00a0 Whatever his interest in me, it appears now to have been entirely<\/em> above reproach. If he had only allowed me to explore I\u2019d have been in seventh heaven: but, he never touched me.\u00a0 Damn!<\/p>\n

HIGH SCHOOL<\/strong><\/p>\n

Again, having begun grammer-school at 5, I was just 14 when I entered Modesto\u2019s only (then) High School. Not surprisingly, it was called Modesto High School, MHS from here on. My freshman year did not go well. For one thing, there was the same old problem with PE, which I could not get out of. My peers, with few exceptions, were ahead of me physically, and I still had the problem of surreptitiously enjoying the views in the locker-room and showers. One of the coaches did take my problems into consideration, allowing me to play hand-ball in one of the two courts out on the playing field: but I had to find someone willing to play against me, and since hand-ball was considered a \u201csissy\u201d sport, I usually played with my (tennis) balls by myself. Coach also assigned me as towel-boy for the PE period I had, which cut my playtime a bit short, and put me behind a counter where I could watch the boys toweling themselves, but they could not see me below the middle, giving them less excuse to badger me about my lack of equipment \u201cdown there\u201d.<\/p>\n

My favorite class was General Science; my favorite teacher taught it. Mr. Bosch (not his real name) was a tall, lanky blond in his thirties. He had a rather Germanic appearance and bearing, with a butch haircut and a melifluous voice. But he was a good instructor, got us a lot of interesting movies, and took us on several field-trips around town. I developed a crush (my first) on Mr. Bosch, and did some terrific learning for him and from him. But what I would have liked most to have gotten from him\u2014a pat on the head, or elsewhere<\/em>\u2014I never got. Apparently, some DID! A couple of years on he was discovered to be diddling some of the boys, and was summarily fired and run out of town. Like everyone else, he never touched ME! Damn!<\/p>\n

My freshman year was also distorted by the death of my mother. It was not unexpected: she died a horrible death, from the cancer we had discovered 5 years earlier. This put us all in a funk for a while, and that summer we took a long trip around the US to recover.<\/p>\n

But the major event of my freshman year occurred as that school-year was winding down. I had gone to watch our basket-ball players practice for a game to take place that night. I would not actually attend the game itself: I was supposed to be home, studying. But I tended to hang around that hated gym when the guys were playing basketball because I was rapidly becoming a \u201cleg man\u201d (which I still am). In those days (unlike today) most sports were played in very<\/em> brief shorts: between where these ended and knee-socks began was a gorgeous display of healthy young thighs, and now and then in a particularly\u00a0 vigorous run-up or jump, one got a glimpse right up to the jewels within. Indeed, many of the guys wore shorts they split up each side, to be as revealing<\/em> as possible! Believe me, there is NO fun watching a basketball game any more, what with those stupid bloomers the guys wear now!<\/p>\n

Anyway, there I was getting my fill of eye-candy, when I happened to overhear two chaps nearby comparing their ability to shoot their jizz. All at once, a whole lot of things<\/em> fell into place! The scene from years before, when my cousin had shown me the ropes, sprang instantly to mind: I knew at once what the boys were discussing and describing, and it occurred to me I was probably missing out on something.<\/p>\n

That very night, alone in my little room at the top of the stairs, I determined to find out just exactly<\/em> what those boys (and my cousin) were experiencing. Dad was downstairs showing slides to friends, so I figured I\u2019d have some time to myself. [He’d invited me to watch with them, but I told him I had to study: he must have known “something was up”, ’cause I NEVER studied!]<\/p>\n

I laid my bod across my bed, pushed my pants down, and went to work with my fist: I can remember it as if it were yesterday! By this time almost 15, my body was ready, even if my mind wasn\u2019t. Once I \u201cgot the feeling\u201d (which didn\u2019t take long) I could NOT stop, and before long I shot my first wad all over the place, just as I heard my Dad\u2019s foot-fall on the steps to my room!<\/strong> Jesus!<\/p>\n

By the time he opened the door I had hiked up my pants and was seated at my little desk with a book open, but the tiny room reeked of semen<\/em> and I\u2019m sure Dad knew what I\u2019d just done. Nevertheless, satisfied I was studying, he departed. No sooner was he gone, I dropped trous\u2019 again and whacked off a second time, then set about cleaning up the mess. It was the first of an untold number<\/em> of joyous<\/strong> jack-offs.<\/p>\n

Some of these early experiences, hugely<\/em> embellished, can be found in my story, Central Valley High<\/em><\/strong>, at Nifty.<\/p>\n

To be continued \u2026<\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

AND NOW, FOR A SPECIAL COMMENT<\/strong><\/p>\n

With apologies to Keith Olbermann! He and Rachel Maddow are the freshest breaths of air to hit televised news in years! I\u2019m sorry they have to share MSNBC facilities with that loathsome \u201cPredator\u201d series and the interminable, disgusting \u201cLock-up\u201d crap, but at least they are ON THE AIR!<\/p>\n

So far in this blog, I\u2019ve described some of my life up to the age of 15, when I finally discovered what the thing between my legs could be used for besides taking a whiz. In today\u2019s environment, especially in San Francisco, I can\u2019t imagine a boy reaching the age of 15 without making this wonderful discovery much earlier. Indeed, polls at many of the blogs I read suggest that it\u2019s fairly typical for boys to get their first blow-job around 12, by which time, one presumes, they had been jerking off for some time. [Now that the “Fondling Fathers” have been largely put out of business, this age-level may rise a bit]\u00a0 {chuckle}.<\/p>\n

But, it is fair to ask, how did I manage to get to 15 without even masturbating? Even after a cousin had been so kind as\u00a0 to show me how!<\/p>\n

Well, for one thing, my \u201chormone treatments\u201d were late to arrive. I had my own bedroom always, so it was unusual to see even my brothers nude. I rarely saw my parents in the altogether either, and seeing any other people nude, in fact or photos, simply did not happen in those days. While I\u2019m sure there was an underground trade in \u201csmut\u201d, it was never seen or discussed in my family. And remember, in those days, even Batman & Robin, always fully dressed, didn\u2019t show a lot of basket, and genitals were routinely air-brushed out in most of the illustrations in the National Geographic! I do remember poring over the Monkey-Wards and Sears catalogues, looking at the underwear ads. Even there, though, \u201cbumps\u201d were not prominent, body hair was generally de-emphasized (on those guys and men who would have had any to start with), so there was really almost nothing salacious for a budding young queer to enjoy! I was not into sports or swimming, so even a classmate in a bathing-suit was a rare sight.<\/p>\n

I remember being fascinated by a boy named Frankie in my Carmichael days: I was particularly attracted to his arms, which were finely shaped. He was many shades darker than me due to some mediterranean blood I suppose. I joined the Cub-Scouts, not because I had any interest in badges and all that stuff, but because the pack generally met at his house where his mom was den-mother. When it turned out all they ever did was play tag football on the huge expanse of lawn there, I lost interest in the scouts and retreated into my fantasies of touching Frankie\u2019s lovely limbs. I still enjoy a well-shaped arm. It does not have to be particularly muscular; in fact, many of the photos I see nowadays are of guys whose arms are too muscular. My favorite pics are of naturally well-built fellows without the evidence of \u201cpumping iron\u201d so common nowadays.<\/p>\n

There were lots of \u201cpin-up girls\u201d, but I was utterly uninterested in them: the belief that I ought to be interested led to a lot of grief!<\/p>\n

Neither my own parents nor any others I knew were particularly demonstrative. Anything beyond a casual embrace was reserved for times when we kids were in bed! There were no TV shows for me to watch: Dad didn\u2019t allow a TV into the house until good color-sets became common (late 1950\u2019s).<\/p>\n

Carl (he of horse fame) did show us (often) his dad\u2019s collection of porno pictures, clearly obtained through underground sources. But these were straight porn, all in grainy black & white, and mostly in a tiny wallet-size format. Despite being dog-eared and grimy, they seemed to do it for Carl and his friends: they did nothing for me!<\/p>\n

But the most telling feature that led to my remaining so innocent so late was my belief that I was some sort of one-off freak. In those days, \u201cgay\u201d meant light-hearted and charming; \u201cqueer\u201d meant odd or strange; a \u201cfairy\u201d was something that took a tooth in the night. It would be years before I heard the word \u201chomosexual\u201d uttered by anyone, even though throughout most of my high-school years, the faculty and administration thought I WAS ONE!<\/p>\n

WHY THE F*CK DIDN\u2019T THEY TELL ME?!<\/strong><\/p>\n

I learned, years later, they all thought I was sucking every cock in the school. If they had only told me, I\u2019d have obliged, willingly!<\/p>\n

Even after my revelation in the gym, overhearing two boys discussing their alleged shooting prowess, I did not immediately realize my peers were probably doing and thinking the same sexual things I was because I was convinced they would all be thinking in terms of doing it with girls. Even when I kind-of figured out that guys might be relieving themselves just as I was soon doing daily, the idea of approaching any of them to do it with me remained beyond the pale. Much as I wanted to, I could not bring myself to proposition any of the guys I lusted after and dreamed about. Damn!<\/p>\n

So, I blundered on, oblivious to what adults around me thought I was up to. I was a Junior in college before I learned there were, in fact, other guys with feelings similar to mine, willing to act on those impulses. I was in my 20\u2019s before I got or gave a blow-job, but that\u2019s for another page later on.<\/p>\n

To be continued \u2026<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

CHEMISTRY Among some old textbooks in my Dad\u2019s library I found a few about chemistry, and quickly developed an interest in that subject. Something about it \u201cspoke to me\u201d, and I found it very easy to comprehend. I converted an old potting-shed behind our garage into a \u201claboratory\u201d using various \u201cfound\u201d items. It was leaky […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":0,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-101","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/brucebramson.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/101","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/brucebramson.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/brucebramson.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/brucebramson.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=101"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/brucebramson.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/101\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/brucebramson.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=101"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/brucebramson.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=101"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/brucebramson.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=101"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}