Stormy, Enchanted P'Town Encounter

By William Monroe

In 1966, to my knowledge, there was no such thing as "coming out." When, a week before Christmas that year, eighteen-year-old Paul told his two closest friends that he was gay, word spread. Most of Paul's friends abandoned him, and his father packed him off to a series of psychiatrists, determined to find one who could fix his son.

After being examined by three doctors over a period of four months, who between them had him taking uppers and downers, Paul had had enough. Legally an adult, he refused to see more. When, during the summer between graduating high school and beginning college, Paul overheard his dad while talking to a new doctor on the phone repeat the words "electro-therapy" when asking that doc to explain something he had just said, Paul and his father had words, loud words. That led to Paul leaving home. Thanks to arrangements made by Paul's by-then-dead grandparents, he was able to do that more comfortably than most kids his age.

Instead of entering college, Paul moved in with a gay friend in New Haven and got a job. As sometimes happens, not long after they moved in together, Paul's roommate met a man and decided to move to New York. Paul didn't mind; America was rushing headlong into the Vietnam War, and his administrative job at a defense contractor enabled him to afford the rent alone. Since he was not in college, though, on Paul's 19th birthday, among the mail he received, most of which contained birthday cards, was a notice from his Draft Board ordering him to report for his pre-induction physical. Paul had no intention of being drafted. The upside of having seen those shrinks was that he had no problem at all obtaining letters from them attesting to his homosexuality. The letters, and the baby-blue bell bottoms, black with hundreds of colorful little flowers Tom Jones Granny Shirt with bouffant sleeves, wide, white patent leather belt, and his fluorescent orange dyed hair, which was not a bad throw-together for a butch-top, quickly got him an official "1Y" -- queer as a $3 bill -- deferment on his draft card.

Although Paul had only been out for a short time, living on the Connecticut coast, he had heard of Provincetown, popularly known as P'town. Arriving home from work on the Friday afternoon of the Memorial Day weekend, he decided that spending a couple of days there might be what was needed to break the boredom and depression that had settled in since his roommate moved.

Located at the tip of Cape Cod, the little coastal town where the Pilgrims landed on November 21, 1620, before they reached Plymouth, had, over the centuries, transformed itself from a calm mooring in a sheltered bay into a Portuguese fishing village, an artists' colony, and, beginning in the 1940s, a haven at the shore for gay men and lesbians and eventually, LGBTQ+ people of every description. Back in the mid-1960s, though, P'town was almost exclusively populated during the summer months by its small number of locals of Portuguese descent and the many gay men who flocked to it.

Not thinking about making reservations or checking weather reports, Paul threw jeans, beach things, and a jacket into a bag and hopped into his MG for the nearly four-hour drive up the coast. Due to holiday traffic and rain that began falling while he was driving through Rhode Island, by 8 p. m., he had only made it to Hyannis at the base of the Cape. When Paul pulled to the side of the road in North Truro, just south of Provincetown, to check his map, the storm that seemed to be following him had developed into a near gale.

Except for a few people dashing here and there, Provincetown seemed deserted as Paul navigated his car through the driving rain down narrow, dimly lit Commercial St. When he reached what appeared to be the area of town with the largest two and three-story wooden buildings, Paul found a place to park and began to search for a room.

After unsuccessful visits to the only motel and several guest houses, Paul was on the verge of giving up and sleeping in his car when, soaking wet now, he reached the Anchor Inn.

The Anchor Inn's door had just closed behind him when lightning lit up the night sky, and a tremendous clap of thunder exploded overhead. The desk agent, who was so nice and, although at least twice his age, attractive that Paul almost asked if he could stay with him, explained that the inn was also sold out. He did, however, suggest that Paul try a guest house called Smuggler's Inn, which he said was less than half a block away on Winthrop St. By luck, Paul had parked his car on Winthrop St.

By the time Paul ran the short distance to Smuggler's Inn, the sky was alive with lightning and thunder. The tempest was so loud that Paul took several attempts, banging on the door with the heel of his hand, to get anyone's attention. Eventually, the door swung open to reveal an attractive man in his fifties, backed by two other equally attractive men about his age, all holding drinks.

"Oh, my God, you poor boy! You're soaked! Come in!" the man holding the door almost yelled at me by way of a greeting.

"Yes, you're soaking wet. Come inside, it's awful out there!" one of the others behind him parroted.

With that, Paul was hustled inside the home's foyer, and the door closed behind me.

"It's gotten so cold this evening, even colder than usual with this storm. You must be freezing. I'll get towels so you can dry yourself off," the man who opened the door said, adding with a smile, "I'm Luke; I own the place."

With that, Luke disappeared down a short hallway and around a corner, but he kept talking. "Those two with you are Billy in the red shirt and John in the plaid. They're regulars. They think they own the place."

Paul introduced himself to Billy and John, and to Luke, who returned with towels almost immediately.

"Thanks for letting me in. Luke, I hope you have a room available. Any room. The basement, even," Paul stated, almost as a plea.

Billy and John looked at each other and began to laugh.

"I love kids," John sighed.

"I know you do," Billy chuckled, "Too much so."

"Shut up, Queen..." John laughed.

"Paul, this is Memorial Day weekend. I doubt there are two rooms to be found anywhere in town, even though it's pouring.

"I know, pretty stupid, right?" Paul admitted.

"You don't look gay. You are aware that this is a gay guest house?" Luke asked, looking at Paul seriously. John and Billy turned to look at Paul, too.

At that, Paul looked from man to man and grinned.

"Oh yeah, I'm gay all right. Just ask my dad!" Paul acknowledged.

"Ah, Daddy issues, eh?" Luke replied. That made them all laugh.

"Paul, the quick and honest answer to your question is, no, unfortunately, on this cold and stormy night, there is no room at the inn," Luke said, as he reached out to take a damp towel from Paul and hand him a dry one. "But, as we all know, things can change. Now that you're, if not dry on the outside, at least much drier, let's get you into the living room so you can meet the other guests and see if we can warm you up a little on the inside too."

With that, everyone moved around a staircase into what had been the former home's living room and now served as a sort of salon cum bar. Arrayed around the room were seven attractive men ranging in age from mid-twenties to late-fifties. Paul's unexpected arrival and the sounds of his conversation in the foyer, rather than Luke simply having sent him on his way, had piqued everyone's interest. Introductions were made, and smiles exchanged as Luke guided Paul around the room.

Paul soon found himself with a drink in hand, talking with, but mostly responding to questions from, the first group of older gay men he had met. At first, he was a bit hesitant and shy, but he quickly relaxed and enjoyed the witty exchanges.

A short time later, Luke appeared beside Paul and casually shepherded him back out to the foyer. Everyone present, each a long-time frequent guest, agreed that Paul would be a nice addition to the weekend group. The house had a vibe that its guests worked hard to maintain. Everyone thought Paul would fit in. No, no need for Paul to worry; there was no sexual requirement.

Luke explained that, as he had said earlier, all the rooms were occupied. However, an attic room was scheduled to be renovated for occupancy later in the summer. It was a big room, but in rough condition. It had a king-size bed and an attached bathroom. Paul could see the room, and if it was acceptable, Luke would have the houseboy clean it and its bathroom as much as they could at that hour of the night, and make the bed. He told Paul he would be happy to rent it for one-third of the usual room rate.

Paul jumped on the offer.

Things moved fast after that. Paul looked at the room and declared it perfect. He and Luke went back downstairs and sealed the deal. Then, while Paul ran back out into the rain to retrieve his bag from his car, Luke had his house attendant clean and get the room ready for occupancy. Meanwhile, Paul rejoined Luke and his guests in the salon, where Luke had another drink waiting for him.

Being under the Massachusetts twenty-one-year-old legal drinking age, Paul had no interest in tromping around P'town at night in the storm, trying to find a gay bar that would let him in. Tossing $10 onto the pile of bills in the "Bar Bowl" to help offset the cost of the "free" drinks he would consume while enjoying his first night of partying with older gay men, Paul settled in with his new friends. As they talked, laughed, and took turns selecting records for the stereo, the weather outside, if possible, got worse. Then, unexpectedly, the power went out.

Almost simultaneously, there was a loud knocking at the door. As if in a movie, everyone immediately went silent. Paul imagined it was exactly like when he banged on the door, except then the lights were on.

Amidst the exclamations and comments the power failure prompted, Paul made out through the darkness Luke and James, whom he had learned earlier were Luke's partner, moving through the darkness toward the foyer to answer the door.

For what seemed like an eternity, those in the salon sat in silence or exchanged words at low volume as they couldn't help but hear Luke and, occasionally, James, talking with the new arrival in hushed tones. Suddenly, holding a battery-powered hurricane lamp, Luke appeared in the entrance to the salon.

"Paul, would you put this on a table, then come out here and join us for a moment, please?" he asked seriously, extending the glowing lamp toward the darkened room.

Unconsciously, before standing, Paul sat up straight. It was clear something was up.

When Paul stepped into the foyer with Luke, he found James speaking in low tones with a handsome guy with dark wavy hair and a face that seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place it. The boy, or young man, appeared to be a couple of years older than Paul at most. He was as soaking wet as Paul was when he arrived, maybe more so if that was possible.

While Paul tried to understand why he was there, Luke introduced him to the new arrival, whose name he said was Joe. As Paul had been when he arrived, Luke explained, Joe was desperately in need of accommodations. That confused Paul, because there were no more rooms. Luke had given him the very last unfinished room.

Paul was standing there with what he imagined was a blank or stupid look on his face when Luke said, "Paul, if it's okay with you, and if Joe will consider it, I did make an exception and let you stay in the unused attic room, which has that big, king-size bed. Perhaps you will consider allowing Joe to share the room with you? I'll even keep the rate the same, so if you two split the cost, it will be very inexpensive."

Until then, Paul's attention had been entirely on Luke. When he stopped talking, Paul turned to see how Joe was reacting to Luke's offer. Before that moment, he hadn't taken in how attractive Joe really was in a rain-drenched Ivy League frat boy sort of way.

Paul and Joe exchanged smiles, after which Joe followed a hurricane lamp, carrying Luke upstairs to look the room over. A few minutes later, as Joe was filling out the registration card, Paul mentioned, "You know, Joe, doesn't really suit you. Since we're going to be bedmates, I think I'm going to call you, Fratboy."

From his bent-over position, filling out the registration card, Joe swiveled his head and looked up at Paul with a grin. Then, without another word, he looked back down and kept filling out the card.

After Joe retrieved his things from his car, he declined the offer of a drink, so Paul, carrying yet another hurricane lamp, showed him up to his, now their, room. They shared a laugh about roughing it, then Paul flopped on his back on the bed and watched as Joe found places to put the few things he brought.

"I'm sure I detected the scent of weed while we were downstairs," Joe threw over his shoulder as he opened one of the big dormer windows just a little to let in some air but not rain.

"Oh yeah, we were hitting a pipe like hippies just before you arrived," Paul assured him. "We should get an ashtray or something like it if you want to smoke up here."

"Maybe I'll forget about the weed and just get high on you. That is, if you'll let me smoke your pipe all night as payment for letting me share your bed," Joe almost whispered while giving Paul the wickedest look Paul'd ever seen a preppy guy's eyes shoot.

Paul was still looking up from the bed when Joe dropped his jeans, exposing skin-tight tighty-whities, pulled his crew team T-shirt over his head, and fell onto the bed on his belly between Paul's wide-spread legs. When Paul leaned up to get a better look, he saw that Joe's chin, which Paul couldn't stop thinking he'd seen before, had landed just below his belt buckle.

No words were exchanged as they both smiled, and Joe began to move, slither, really in the most incredibly provocative yet manly way, up Paul's body until they were in each other's arms. Their lips touched, then parted as each leaned back and looked into the other's eyes, savoring and processing that they, who hadn't even met thirty minutes ago, were on a bed, one almost naked, and they had just kissed.

Joe remained on top for a moment, holding Paul's face in his hands, kissing it all over. Then he rolled them over, and Paul climbed on top. Paul's eager lips parted to let Joe's tongue explore, and it did, almost shyly at first, tracing Paul's lips, then probing between them.

They played at that for a while until Joe thrust his tongue deep into Paul's mouth, and Paul accepted the challenge. That's when their arms wrapped around each other. What were gentle, even playful kisses became more passionate. They pulled apart for a second or two, grinning, then all the suppressed desire and passion within them erupted, and like two male tigers, they clawed at each other.

Paul sensed that Joe, like him, was awash in an ocean of conflicting emotions and was trying not to assert dominance.

They both reached down almost simultaneously. Joe fumbled with Paul's belt buckle for a few seconds, then finally loosened it and popped his jeans open. Both boys slid Paul's jeans and BVDs down off his slim hips, then Joe yanked Paul's jeans and shorts off both his legs in one hard tug. Paul's jeans had hardly hit the floor before he dragged Joe's briefs down his muscular legs.

Suddenly, they were naked and in each other's arms. Their firm, young bodies seemed to fit as though they were designed to. Leaving Joe's warm, welcoming mouth, Paul's lips traveled down the side of his neck to his collarbone. He feasted there for a time, then licked and kissed his way down along the arc of Joe's hard left pec to the little garnet red nipple, already hard and waiting to be teased.

Paul was about to lick and kiss his way across Joe's chest to his delicious nipple's mate when Fratboy rolled him over and climbed on top. Reaching down with a hand, Joe cupped Paul's ballsack, closing his fingers lightly around Paul's nuts, holding them gently as the heat of Paul's long, thick, cut, and throbbingly hard cock warmed and rubbed against his wrist.

Paul felt alive, really alive for the first time. During his short five months of being out as gay, he had had sex with four guys. Nothing he had experienced with any of them came close to what he was feeling with Joe, even in the first few minutes of their time together. On his back with Joe leaning over him felt so perfect, so right.

Joe's blue eyes met his, then he lowered his lips. As their lips touched and Joe's kiss possessed him, Paul's arms encircled Joe, and he knew with absolute certainty that we were equals with no need to vie for power. Paul didn't know how long they remained on the bed like that, Joe on top, sometimes him, passing the baton of dominance back and forth.

Somehow, even on a king-size bed, two athletic young guys who are treating each other like human lollipops, licking, kissing, and sucking on each other's hard, throbbing, cocks while rolling around in a loose sixty-nine-like position will wind up on the floor. When that happened, we didn't stop, but we did hear a lot about it the following morning!

Joe's scent drew me to his balls like a magnet.

Paul was kissing and nibbling at the inside of Joe's right thigh when the first faint whiff of what he would come to think of as Joe's sex scent drifted up from the warm depth at the base of his ballsack, where it joined his taint. Paul took his first deep sniff of Joe's scent as he wiggled his face under his sack. His tongue slid out as his hands lifted his thighs and parted his legs. He kissed and sucked on Joe's already tightening balls, lifting off only occasionally to take a breath, then dipping down again to trace each of his clearly defined testicles with the tip of his tongue. Feeling Joe's mouth on his balls and Joe's mouth and the tip of his tongue following the movements of his mouth and tongue with precision made Paul smile.

When Paul opened his mouth wide and carefully sucked in one of Joe's big egg-shaped balls, he felt Joe's warm, moist mouth tenderly suck in one of Paul's own big cum producing nuts. The new lovers lost themselves for a time in tenderly kissing, licking, and sucking on each other's balls, almost as if they were hoping to make them work doubly hard.

Joe's warm, satiny smooth, yet delightfully rough tongue slid slowly up over Paul's sack onto the underside of his shaft at its base just as Paul gently lifted Joe's rigid cock to his lips to lick the stream of precum off of its tip. As Joe slowly dragged his tongue up the length of Paul's cock, Paul tongue-polished the head of Joe's dick.

Happy to know my cock was Joe's favorite new toy, I reached around him and gripped his muscular butt cheeks. I pulled his long, thick cock into my mouth until I felt its big head reach the opening to my throat. Taking a deep breath, I made my throat muscles relax and pulled Joe's cock into the opening to my throat. There was momentary resistance, then I heard him gasp as his pulsating dick slid down into me.

It took determination, but that's how I made Joe cum the first time, by having him fuck my throat during our first sixty-nine. I held onto his butt and pulled his dick down my throat over and over as he moaned and gurgled and drooled all over my equally big dick.

When they got close, each of them tried to warn the other and pull out of each other's mouths, but neither would allow it. Both of them coughed and gagged a lot when they unloaded their loads deep down each other's throats at about the same time. As much as they both choked on all the cum, neither of them came up off the cock he was sucking on until he'd sucked the other dry.

Eventually, they drifted off to sleep to the sound of rain falling on the roof.

Paul woke up at one point and found that the rain had stopped. Joe was standing naked in one of the large dormers before the open window, bathed in moonlight. Slipping off the bed and stepping behind him as quietly as possible, Paul wrapped his arms around the handsome young man who had brought him such joy. As he did, Joe relaxed back against Paul, his head leaning against Paul's left shoulder as his arms lifted and his hands closed over Paul's on his chest. They stood like that in silence for a time, looking out over the rooftops. Then Joe broke the silence.

"I'm not supposed to be here. My family wants me to meet a general in Boston for lunch today to discuss my enlistment. I can't avoid it. When there's a war, guys in my family have to be in it and win medals. There's a family law about that. Being here is my way of rebelling," he said softly, turning to look at Paul over his shoulder as he finished. "I came because I knew this is one place they'd never look."

Paul held him tighter. Not sure what to say, he kissed his neck and whispered, "I understand family obligations, so I feel for you. How early do you have to leave?"

"I brought clothes. They're in my car. If I head out by 10 am, I should be okay." Then Joe turned in my arms to face me. "Lunch won't take more than an hour. We're meeting at noon. How do you feel about me sharing your bed for another night or, if you're here longer, for a couple of nights?"

"I think that's a great idea," Paul breathed into his ear as he kissed him.

"So, I have lots of time to suck your cock again... and again... and then you can suck mine..." Paul whispered as his hands turned Joe around while he lowered to his knees. Then Joe's fingers were in Paul's hair, and his cock was in Paul's mouth with Paul's tongue twirling around its head. The storm had passed, and what little moonlight filtered through the breaking clouds illuminated and cast shadows over Joe's rocking pelvis and Paul's bobbing head. Two young men destined by fate and nature to be lovers, devouring each other with the passion of youth and desperation.

Paul let Joe cum quickly that first time. Then he nursed on his dick and hugged Joe's legs while his new friend and lover recovered. The second time Paul made Joe cum standing before that window took a little longer because Paul wanted it to.

When Joe's dick began to firm up again in Paul's mouth, Paul possessed it as no one ever had before. He had one thing on his mind: to give Joe so much pleasure he would never forget him. As his soft and pliant yet dominating lips caressed and milked Joe's dick, his tongue slithered, wiggled, tickled, and applied precisely the right amount of pressure to Joe's cum tube while he sucked with a talent Paul didn't even suspect he possessed. The 19-year-old, still in many ways a novice cocksucker, took Joe's dick deep down into his throat and held it there, massaging its head with his throat muscles as Joe fell forward, clutching Paul's shoulders with his hands, leaning over Paul, supporting himself on extended arms, trying to fuck his cock even further down Paul's gulping throat. With his hands caressing Joe's butt cheeks, his hips, and with his fingertips dancing lightly up and down Joe's sides, along the edges of his lats, his thumb pads brushing over his hard little nipples, Paul twirled his lips around the head of Joe's penis and tickled his little male clit spot with the tip of his tongue until Joe fed him his cum. Then, when Joe was drained, he took him back to bed.

Paul woke up at what seemed to be the crack of dawn with Joe sucking on his dick. That led to morning sex.

A little over two hours later, as Joe and Paul were standing outside on the low stone wall along Winthrop St. in front of Smuggler's Inn as Joe prepared to leave, Luke walked a few steps out the front door and, in almost a stage whisper, asked, "Mr...., will we have the pleasure of your company again this evening?"

The name Luke spoke would not attract the attention of most people, but Paul wasn't just any nineteen-year-old. He was raised in an environment of New England wealth and power, and he was politically astute. Hearing Luke speak Joe's surname made Paul turn to his new friend with astonishment.

"You're a...," was all Paul got out.

"Yes, but it doesn't matter," Joe assured intently, smiling as he held Paul's arm. "Look at the bright side," he added, grinning. "At least my name isn't Kennedy, or there'd be press guys all over the place snapping your picture. I've got to go. Please, be here for me when I get back!"

Hours later, when Joe's car rolled up Winthrop St., Paul was waiting. He wasn't waiting for some hot frat boy with a rich and powerful family. He was there for a guy much like himself whose brains he intended to fuck out that night.

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