the-life-of-nicky-8.html

Ass

The following stories claim to be the autobiography of Nicky, a boy model in the 1960s. The reader will have to decide whether they are fiction or autobiography. In some places, Nicky wrote about real people and real places, almost all of whom (by 2021) are either dead or in hiding. He narrates events and actions which were illegal then and are illegal now, and if you do not wish to read about sex between men and boys, you should stop now–especially if your place of residence has laws against reading such material. None of this material is intended to encourage anyone to break any laws anywhere. You have been warned.

If you enjoy this, you may contact the author at ail The full series of Nicky”s life has already been written, and will continue to be posted.

Will you join your fellow authors and readers to support Nifty? To contribute discreetly to the continuing operations of the Nifty Erotic Stories Archive website using a credit card or other methods of donation, go to Nifty.

Additional note to readers: I have received a reader”s response that the previous narrative jumps back and forth too much, and is not in as tidy a chronological order as he might have liked.

Because of my errors in editing, chapter titles were inadvertently deleted from the previous posts on Nifty. Here is a rough chronology of what I have been trying to communicate:

Chapters 1 1B) Adolescence. These two chapters give an overview of my life from early childhood in Grosse Pointe, Michigan, until my years at Princeton, and how some unusual aspects of it came about.
Title: My Uncle Ted and My Beginning as a Boy Model. Ted was a unique figure in my life (and in other lives), and this focuses on him and how he arranged for me to begin to model with artists and photographers, and become involved in sex work.
Title: Some Background on Photography in the 1960s. Originally I wrote “Chicken Photography,” but was more discreet in the posting. This goes into how photographers worked, recruited boys and used them, and how different producing chicken photography was in the era of self-developed photographs.
Title: My First Studio and Experiences. This describes my work with Metecue Studio, owned and operated by Mr. Edward Quirk, and how I first met Frank Shelden, who turned out to be a pivotal figure whose role I did not really appreciate until much later.
Title: More Photographers and Friends of Uncle Ted. After I worked for Metecue, Ted took me to meet chicken photographers in Cleveland, Toronto, and Montréal on the way to dropping me off at Camp Flying Cloud in Vermont.
Title: My Life at Camp and After Camp. This goes into much greater detail about Camp Flying Cloud, our counsellor Rick, and the challenge I faced when I returned home after that first summer.
Title: Parker Rossman, and How I Became a New Boy. Parker was also a pivotal figure, who influence extended far (like Frank Shelden”s), and who wrote very perceptively about how a boy who is penetrated and truly fucked becomes a new person. I wrote more about what happened with Rick at Camp Flying Cloud here, because it follows closely what Parker wrote about elsewhere.
(This chapter): Zodiac and My First Escorting.

If you, dear reader, have made it this far, I hope this is helpful for your navigation.

Nicky writes:

_______________________________________________________

8. Zodiac and My First Escorting

During 1965-1966 I was in seventh grade, twelve years old. As I wrote in Chapter 6, after my experiences at Camp Flying Cloud that first summer, my body entered a period of intense growth that was hardly manageable. I was often home with colds, had the flu twice, and was experiencing spontaneous erections and ejaculations, mostly at home (but at least once in my pants at school, a couple of times while sitting for an artist, and I think once with Parker Rossman). During the winter those spontaneous ejaculations began to calm down. (My spontaneous erections did not calm down until I was in my 20s.) To an older reader they might sound exciting, but actually they were so unpredictable and gut-wrenching that I did not especially enjoy them: like going into a zone. What I did learn is that my body had many strengths and abilities about which I had no clue previously, and that my cock had a mind of its own that could invade and take over my consciousness.

At school I had the immense benefit of being smart, with an easy level of intense concentration. (In what way was my ability to concentrate tied to the way my body would take over and I would cum? I wonder.). My somewhat manic intelligence was very useful in maths and science, and consequently I was usually several chapters ahead of my peers in the textbooks. My facility with languages also allowed me to pick up Latin with some work but little trouble (thus later with modern languages as well). At home, my ability to concentrate was especially useful in music, piano –I loved to practice nude but of course had to wear clothes when I went to my first teacher”s studio. Then she moved away, and somehow my mother found a male teacher who was willing to come to our house, and was OK with me remaining nude–in fact, he was a naturist and stripped for our lessons. (Like a real naturist, this was not particularly sexual for him and he never touched me. But I did have a spontaneous erection during a lesson from time to time, and he just took that in stride.)

Before we went to California, that winter and spring in seventh grade (1966), I had been sitting for a couple of Detroit artists, and returned in the Spring to Mr. Quirk at Metecue at least once. The one female artist that I really liked, as I mentioned, was very tolerant of my moods, and was happy when I was erect, and happy that I could stay erect. She was very considerate when a spontaneous ejaculation disrupted a sitting. (It still was embarrassing for me to lose control so totally in front of her.).

That Spring of 1966, Ted also introduced me to the photographer who ran Zodiac, through whom I branched out to become a call boy. I will write here about experiences with Zodiac during my years in junior high and high school.

Zodiac was very different from Metecue . It was run by J. J. English (called simply J.J.) whom I think was really Greek-American. He had a thing for signs of the zodiac, and would only pair up boys who had compatible signs. (He said that I am a Cancer with life path number 9, the humanitarian and spiritual guide). I think he used the pseudonymous “English” last name simply because his Greek name was largely unpronounceable.

Zodiac was a smaller operation that escort ankara both photographed boys and rented them out. I was a Zodiac boy from that spring 1966 until 1971. Their photographs showed available boys, for a hefty price, but they also published them in some of the chicken magazines of the time. They mostly appealed to wealthy Detroit-area businessmen with a taste for athletic high school boys, but they did cater to a smaller clientele that liked younger boys and “twinks.” (I was definitely one of those.)

Zodiac”s most prominent twink boy was named Perry, who combined everything Zodiac wanted: all-American looks, twink demeanor or affect, a nice-sized cock with an easy erection, and ready availability in bed. I met Perry several times in 1966-1969 and worked with him twice, when a man wanted to watch two boys fuck (we switched it up with each other). Unlike Perry”s photographs, J.J. and Alex limited the circulation of my photographs, because I was so much younger than many of their boys, who were usually 15 or 16 years old. (I was 12 in the Spring 1966.) They wanted to reserve me for the high-paying men who wanted a willing, secure, and reliable “chicken.”

J.J. operated Zodiac out of his house in Harper Woods, between Grosse Point and Detroit, and he used a post office box in the Kensington station. He was a good deal more directive that Mr. Quirk, but also more animated and and more informal. (For example: I never called J. J. “mister,” a exception to the rule in that era.). His house in Harper Woods had several locations set up with lights, so he could work with a boy quickly: a wood-paneled bedroom with a double-bed, the familiar white louvered doors that were almost a cliché in chicken photography, a wing chair in a living room, etc. He liked my erection a lot, and took several photographs of me in profile, on the stairway, and on the back porch. He would finger my cock and my ass, but watch as I cummed for him. J.J. did not have sex with the boys, at least that I knew about.

Much of what I write about them I learned later; as a boy I knew nothing about the business in the background: I only know that I learned how to be a call-boy.

J. J.”s partner and relative Alex ran the rent-boy side of the business (then called “call-boy;” escort was not yet a prevalent term). I have later surmised that they had both had encounters with the police, so they operated very carefully. Undoubtedly they also paid off Harper Woods, Detroit, and Wayne County law enforcement to leave them alone, probably including a cut in the profits. I suspect that both were affiliated with some kind of organized crime, but I never heard about anything violent with them (or with a boy, for that matter).

Alex was younger than J. J. and very clever. His business set-up was complicated, but this is how I think it worked. Alex operated out of a coffee shop on Harper Avenue. I am sure that the proprietor was another Greek relative, who provided him with a private telephone on his table in a corner in the back. Another man handled the actual scheduling, and yet another man the money.

This arrangement meant that it would have been very hard to trace all the calls. J.J. and Alex spared nothing to evade detection. One of the clients (I don”t know whether I met him) was a detective with the State Police who advised Zodiac how not to leave any paper trail. I know that Alex kept a table of numbers for boys, clients, and dates, but it was meant to look like an ordinary bookie”s list.

I remember directly one little detail: J.J. and Alex always used a boy”s real first name and a client”s real first name, so that if somehow they were picked up, the man was just taking a boy home from an event at a private club.

Boys never handled money, but readily accepted tips. This also meant that boys were never carrying a lot of money, and if hassled by the police, the amount of money found on them could not point to prostitution.

Alex and J. J. only worked through word of mouth. Their customers had to be recommended by another customer. Alex or J. J. met with each man to get a sense of his character before they provided access to a boy.

As for the boys, Alex and J. J. hand-picked them, too. Most of the boys were younger than eighteen, usually at least fourteen. Alex would arrange for a “trail run” of a new boy with a couple of very trusted men first. A couple of their more experienced boys might provide some training, and Alex was sure that the boy was clear about the rules about money, discretion, and how to ask for help.

When a boy worked for them for a while, he might recommend a younger brother, cousin, or friend to them. I later have spoken with several boys whose work with Zodiac was a sort of family tradition (cousins, brothers, and friends). When a boy wanted to quit, he could quit easily. To my knowledge they never pressured any boy to stay with the business when the boy wanted out for some reason, often because he was going away to college or the draft.

Alex emphasized that Zodiac handled only “the best” boys, mostly from “the Pointes” or “the Shores,” (this was social code for “white boys”) though also a few light-skinned African-American boys. Alex and J. J. wanted only “the best boys,” and who would service only “the best men,” who could easily pay a lot, keep quiet, feared exposure, and wanted boys who had as much to fear from exposure as they had.

Zodiac was a niche business catering to the wealthy and well-connected, and I fit into that niche. I later read in Parker Rossman”s book (Boys for Sale: A Study of the Prostitution of Young Boys for Sexual Purposes) about a particular kind of high-class boy who would rent out for adventure and some financial independence, even though he might come from a very privileged background and highly-placed family. This description pretty well summed me up: I certainly did not have to rent out for money reasons, but I actually liked and enjoyed offering myself to a man. That said, I never rented out too much, so that I became jaded or “used.”

J.J. and Alex especially liked that they hardly had to train me, just bring me up to speed on some of the procedures meant to keep everything confidential. Uncle Ted filled me on the money part. They gave me a trial with one of their most reliable customers, a Catholic priest from Royal Oak, and evidently I passed his test with flying colors. (He liked more muscular jock boys, though.)

I watched Alex work a couple of times. He preferred that a boy not be present in the coffee shop while he was working, in case he might draw undesirable attention. I took care to sot at another booth, but close enough to eavesdrop a little. esenyurt escort So far as I could tell, it worked like this:

Alex received a call on the private phone. It did not ring, but had a button that lit up. The man simply identified himself by his customer number, and Alex said a code number that the the man would understand.
The man would wait a minute or two, and then call one of the two pay phones that were in the coffee shop, each in a private booth with door that could be closed. Alex answered, and asked for his customer number, just to verify who was on the line. Each customer also had some security question that he had to answer correctly.
The man would ask for a certain boy (or maybe a new boy) at a certain time and place, and they would hang up.
Next, Alex would go the pay phone outside the coffee shop (through the kitchen door) and call another man, older man with a Greek accent who knew whether the boy who would be available that day or evening. This man always had a radio on in the background (some foreign-language station, probably Greek), and their conversation was in Greek.
This older man (always with the radio on) would then call the boy, make sure he was available, and tell him the time and place he would be picked up, (sometimes I received information about the car, what to look for). Often a boy would get picked him up at a designated corner near his house or some other convenient place with plausible deniability.
The older guy with the radio on called back the client to confirm, and called a fourth man to arrangement for payment. Ted told me how it worked: the fourth guy was actually a tax accountant. He would write a bill for consulting that the client could pay privately or from a corporate account, all for the accountant”s time. These wealthy men usually ran a tab, so that the payments could be spaced out. Of course it was to a fictitious business, and the tax accountant knew how to mask the income and the payments.
Alex used these different phones so that he would not leave a pattern that all the calls were coming from one phone number to another phone number. He had been advised by a friendly detective how to evade detection. J.J. and Alex (and others) had friends in the police and the district attorney”s office. They was careful not to create any paper trail. Alex kept a table of numbers for boys, clients, and payments that would look like an ordinary bookie”s record. Everything else he kept in his head. He had an amazing and precise memory. All these men also always used a boy”s real first name and a client”s real first name so that in the event of some kind of detection, there would be less to deny: a client always had a plausible cover story about why he was with this boy, and could identify him correctly if he had to.

Back to my own experience (and I expect it worked the same way for other boys):

When a client picked me up at a bus stop a couple of blocks from my house, he usually took me one or another of several motels on Harper Avenue or 8 Mile Road. The client had already rented the room. Several times I was picked up by a driver, and taken to secluded house on a large estate, and driven home later. The encounter might take an hour or two, or all evening (or all afternoon a couple of times when school was out). After we met, I would always strip slowly, and the man could watch. Sometimes he would request that I wear a certain kind of clothing, but nothing that would draw attention. (For example, school shirt-and-tie; or some kind of athletic clothing.) The client invariably wanted to touch me or suck me, or I would do the same for him; several of the men fucked me. The old man with the radio would always tell me beforehand whether a client would want to fuck me, so that I could plan to get fucked, and make sure I would be clean (although with my preference for enemas I was clean often anyway). They all loved to kiss and fondle me. A couple clients liked to talk and talk; I learned how to listen patiently. Little known fact: half of whoring is listening to a client

I did not rent out every week –usually once a month, maybe twice. And not every month: I travelled with Ted on school breaks, or was at camp much of the summer. During swim season I did not rent out, but made a two exceptions, described below. (I often had an itch to get fucked, and each of those men could fuck me really well.) Ted and I would work out when I would be available and he would let Alex know. I usually could count on a call, usually day or two in advance.

I believe my mother never found out about this (though might be wrong; we never discussed it). I would conceal it by telling her that I was going to study over at one or another friend”s houses. Only two boys from Grosse Pointe knew what I was doing. One was my very close friend Brian, with whom I had a non-sexual friendship, but he knew all about me. Another was a girl who knew all about me. (More about her in a later chapter.)

Though my mother never called up to check on me, Alex made sure we were prepared. We had a plan in case she did, the same plan that other boys used, that involved the names of a couple of friends and a number that would ring up the old man with the radio. He would then call me, and I would call her right back from wherever I was. (No caller ID then.) I think that the motel operators had to be in on what was happening (probably for a small cut) but since this call chain had to go through the motel front desk. No mobile phones then. But this never happened, so I don”t know if that plan would have worked.

My clients really were all really well-established. One was a somebody the Tigers” organization (business side, not on the field), another was a professor at Wayne State, another was an airline pilot (then a prestigious job), another an Episcopal priest. A couple more were executives of some sort for GM or Chrysler. I never found out much more about them, except for one, who not only attended the same Episcopal church in Grosse Pointe where Mom and I attended (sometimes), but also was the husband and father of a woman and a girl that I was sexually involved with in high school. (More about that in a later chapter.) Between the time I was eighteen I had rented out about twenty men, several of them regulars, but only two regulars for all six years.

Why did I stop? I went away to Deerfield, and then Princeton. Well before that, I grew “too old” for some men: they wanted very young teens. Another couple of guys moved away, or found another boy, or just seemed to disappear.

I was becoming enough of a professional whore that I knew not to develop feelings for clients, but sometimes that was really eskişehir escort difficult. I did have some feelings of love for two men: the airline pilot, and the Episcopal priest. The pilot was very nice, a real father-type, and very strong and in shape. He could fuck me standing up, holding me with my legs wrapped around him. He was both solicitous of my feelings, and insisted that I suck him just the way he liked, with lots of deep throat. I liked him because he really took charge but was never a jerk about it. A consummately skilled, urbane gentlemen, he knew how to play a boy and a boy”s body like a musical instrument. I had out-of-body orgasms under his control. I positively vibrated when I was on me. I even met him for sex during my swim season.

The priest was one of the most memorable men I was ever with. He actually wound up officiating at our church in Grosse Pointe. I hadn”t told him I attended that church. (Why would I have?) The first time he was surprised to see me come up for communion, but never skipped a beat. I actually enjoyed knowing that he knew about me. It was great receiving communion from a man that no only I was secretly in love with, but who also fucked me really beautifully: slow but relentless. I let him fuck me during swim season. I always met him at the old Book Cadillac hotel downtown, to which I was driven from an address near my home by a driver in a black Lincoln.

This priest really knew how to handle me. He always request that I wear a shirt and tie, and he would undress me slowly, while remaining in his black clericals. When he had me nude he would hold me across his lap and kiss and gently fondle me until I was very close to cumming. Then he would carry me to the bed, tie my wrists together with my tie, undress himself, and fuck me from behind. He controlled my cum, and made me ask permission (more like beg for permission) before I shot. Despite all this, he was gentle and knew how to play my body, but be strong and totally in charge when needed. He would stay in me after he came and hold and stroke me until I would cum (or cum again), kissing me gently. I loved how he took me and made me his cock sheath; I totally abandoned myself to his control. I believe he later left the priesthood, but not because he was fucking boys. (I think he only fucked boys he paid for, so they were less apt to emerge and accuse him later.)

I only met one other elsewhere and in public. He was the athletic director of a high school in Birmingham that my swim team competed with. Usually Alex (Zodiac) was careful not to match a boy with a man who would know all about who the boy was, and vice-versa. This man had rented me twice before he encountered me before a swim meet when he came down to the pool. I was in ninth grade (1967-1968). I was nude of course (with my team). I could see he was a little flustered for a moment, even though I simply said hello as would a boy taught to be polite to adults. (My cock perked up but I did not go fully hard.) He acknowledged me but then went on with what he to do. After that, he rented me a five or six more times over a couple of years. He really liked the idea of sucking and fucking a swimmer, and he requested that I wear a speedo under ordinary sweat pants and a sweat shirt. He would give me a hot shower, and then peel the speedo off my wet body. He said he wanted to fuck me in a swimming pool, but it never worked out.

Another man who rented me said, after we met several times, that he liked to go to my swim meets, but he sat in a place where I could not see him, so I did not know whether he was there. I liked just knowing that I was competing nude in front a crowd that included one of my men, though.

Sometimes a man would hire two boys, to watch us have sex with each other. During our sex he might suck the bottom boy, or simply watch while stroking himself. This happened to me only once. One man liked to pair me with a really beautiful African American boy named Alfonse, a good deal taller than I. I had heard the racist stereotype that black men had big cocks; Alfonse” was larger than mine but not that big. He was very smooth and very lithe (he was a runner for Brother Rice) and I really liked him. I developed a thing for smooth, lean African American men starting with him. It wasn”t the racist trope of getting fucked by a black man so much as the fact that he was not at all inhibited, and knew how to have a good time with just enough power. As a more submissive and shy boy, I really blossomed when I was with him. I don”t remember anything in particular about the man who rented us, but I sure wanted to do more with Alfonse. (I never did, though.)

I enjoyed working with Zodiac, but I”m glad my world expanded so that I did not work only with them. Zodiac, J.J. and Alex disappeared in the mid-1970s and the neighborhood where they worked disappeared decades ago as well. I have no idea what happened after I left Detroit in 1971.

I suppose all this sounds commercial and exploitative. It did not feel that way, but again I was in a very special niche –I was never forced to have sex with any man, and I could tell Alex if I did not want to see a man again. (That happened only happened once). Alex did well by me, I”m sure, but I did well too: I would get $100 per gig (about $500 today) and by the time I went to college I had about $20,000 (about $100,000 now) free and clear, from escorting and photography . Ted was meticulous about keeping track of my dates, and gave me an accounting every now and again about what I had made and where it was (in the bank). I could keep some of the tips, but Ted saved most of them, too. I held on to that money and it helped after college with graduate school living expenses before I could get at my trust funds.

I did learn some valuable lessons from renting out, or “calling” (really it was being called). I learned how to be patient with a man, and how a man that I might not like much of at first could turn out to be wonderful later. I learned how many men have desires that they cannot satisfy in ordinary relationships. I learned how much of the world operates on deceit. I also learned that great things can happen when I didn”t expect them. I liked the work, and when I ceased to escort during my time in college, I looked back on what I had done satisfied, but ready to move on.

Back to 1966: My seventh-grade teachers all knew: a bored “Nicky” is not a happy boy –far better to keep me engaged by letting me move ahead with the material in class. Consequently I finished the content for the year by early May (often earlier). In most grades May had often been the month when I got into trouble with teachers, because during the end-of-the-year review happened in May. I got into trouble in class then because I was bored. When Ted offered to take me California, my teachers were happy to let me test out of the rest of the year and leave early.

Ted promised me a trip to California before I went back to Camp Flying Cloud for my second year, in the summer of 1966. That”s the next chapter.

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