Walk on the Wild Side - By Karl Edward Wagner Page 0,121

genitalia as well: Maurice recalled his Baptist upbringing and decided it was usually a fig leaf. He bought some art books, described as studies of nude models for the budding artist. He discovered Betty Page in one, airbrushed like all the rest. Just the blank V. Was that all?

For some months Maurice contented himself by jerking off over photographs of air-brushed nudes and demure works of art. Isolation had been bred and beaten into him.

He had grown to love the smooth, clean lines of an air-brushed crotch. No wonder women could wear clinging nylon panties in those magazines, while he had to wear the baggy cotton Y-fronts his mother still bought for him. No dick to bulge out from under their skirts. No wonder they laughed at him.

Maurice bought a jock strap from a sports shop and a fig tree from a nursery. He glued a fig leaf to the pouch, then tried the jock strap on. He posed before his mirror. The costume did little for him and only brought back memories of the high school locker room. He had pretty features, a slight build, and not enough muscle to pose as Adonis or David. Well, it was worth the try. Smooth and clean, just like the pictures in the art books. No guilt. Very little bulge.

After a month he worked up the courage to purchase some panties in various sizes. “For my wife,” he said to the girl at the register, his face reddening. She only nodded, neither knowing nor caring.

Maurice tried them all on. Still a bulge. Tight or loose. No airbrush. He compared his reflection to his magazines. No bulge in their Panties. Where did it go? Air-brush? Fig leaf? Nothing there at all? No dick of any sort? All smooth and clean? Nothing nasty?

Maurice had to know. No one could tell him, if they would. It was 1961, and Maurice was twenty-one.

He looked young and innocent enough for the bartender to ask for ID, just in case Maurice might be a part of some cop sting. The bartender served him a rum and Coke. Maurice seldom drank. He nursed his drink at the bar. The place had sleaze engrained through the plastic decor. Maurice had scouted it out carefully, He had taken a few weeks of courage to work up to this point.

She was wearing a blonde wig and a tight black sheath dress. She was not all that much older than Maurice, and she sat down beside him, gave him the eye, wondered if he might buy her a drink, and the usual fell into place.

They had several drinks, as Maurice needed to buck up his nerve.

Eventually they left for a hotel room, and Maurice put down some money She said her name was Gale, and that was good enough as she undressed. Maurice had never seen a woman undress before. He was frozen.

“Here, let me help you.” Gale was stripped to her bra and panties, quickly done from long practice. She pulled off Maurice’s shirt while he fumbled with his shoes and socks, then got him out of his trousers.

“Big one,” she said, massaging his crotch. “You’ll be fun. She pulled down his Y-fronts, giving him a quick kiss on his dick.

Moving back, Gale removed her bra and panties—this John was petrified—then spread herself out on the bed. Well, come on.

Maurice stood still, gaping at her outspread cunt. His cock was only half erect. He continued to stare.

“First time, honey? Well, come on. It won’t bite you.”

Maurice continued to stare at the hairy monster. There was a slit between her thighs beneath the fur. Nothing like an air-brushed photograph. Women had a hole where a dick should be. His father had been right when he told him that women were dirty vessels of sin. At least she couldn’t hurt him. Not like the boys.

Gale rolled about seductively. “Look, if you’d rather have a blow job, that’s ten bucks extra.”

Shower room flashback.

Maurice instantly came, spurting long streams onto the bed. Gale had seen it all. “Still have to pay, kiddo. See me again when you’re not so nervous. Don’t feel bad. Happens to lots of men.” She began to dress.

Maurice spent a lot of nights worrying if he really were queer, just like his classmates had jeered. He bought some muscle magazines, looked at photos of young men in posing straps, bought some posing straps for himself, tried them on, posed in front of his mirror, tried masturbating while looking at the magazines. Not