FOR GRANDPA, IT’S ALL ABOUT GUMMING

THREE

FOR GRANDPA, IT’S ALL ABOUT GUMMING

 

Grandpa Bates hustled into Steamworks with a big smile through his white beard. Steamworks attendees ten to fifteen years younger than Grandpa, who was born around the turn of the century were often jealous of the old man’s appeal with the young’uns.

 

And truly, Grandpa couldn’t understand it all himself, except that he’d never had to go without a dick in his mouth since first blowing Reverend Blenkinsop in the Baptist Tabernacle  outhouse in his early teens, cleaning themselves up with newspapers headlining the Titanic disaster.

 

There’s a cutie, Grandpa thought, look at them nipples, pushing right out, pointed, they are. It was a good day to be here, though Grandpa was here every day.

 

And look at that Jewish boy coming out of the steam room. Circumsized, big thing. Those Jewish accountants knew how to play. Grandpa remembered right after he’d been discharged from service in Okinawa…he’d met a nice Hebe…rabbinical student, or young bookkeeper…what fun that had been, on shore leave in San Fran.

 

Grandpa had actually been a little old to be joining the service, but how could he have missed being in uniform with those beautiful, beautiful boys? There was nothing prettier than a fella in khaki, although here at Steamworks it was nice to see them, you know…in the pink!

 

Grandpa didn’t have to pay for entrance fees or even a locker key, as Henry, the feller who worked the entry booth had left his wife and kids after an early rogering by Grandpa…Henry had been a miserable insurance adjuster, and now was perfectly happy, at a tenth of his former wages, selling admittance to the Steamworks!

 

Grandpa Bates went into the locker room and deposited his clothing. Oooh, there was Mister Law-N-order himself, Selectman Caffyn, retired now, but it had galled Grandpa to hear Arnie Caffyn going on the radio back in ’49 and talking about the impure acts of his fellow citizens.

 

Caffyn smiled at Grandpa Bates, but Grandpa turned around and went down the narrow hall to the pool. Grandpa had left his upper plate in the locker basket, and would be chowing down today, he hoped. Lookee all that sausage!

 

A shy boy with hay colored hair waved at Grandpa through one of the personal rooms. Yesterday, or day previous to that, Grandpa had done a sixty-nine with the cute little guy. He’s a visiting Mormon missionary, told Grandpa. Lot of work, running around in those little white shirts with the ties.

 

Not too many splashing around in the pool today…couple guys. Grandpa sat down gingerly on the side of the pool and dipped his feet in. There’s a nice looking boy, Grandpa thought, just under thirty, I’ll wager.

 

“Hello sir.” The boy smiled at Grandpa. “I’m uh, Paul. Paul Smith.”

 

IS IT A GOOD IDEA? WHO KNOWS?

 

Ferret looked very seriously at Pilsudski. “Dude, you will not make a pretty girl. You’re a big, homely Polack.” The two were sitting in the booth, sharing a doobie and things were slow at Steamworks, although it was good to see Grandpa Bates wander by.

"Could I be like Marilyn? Or Rita Hayworth?" Pilsudski mused dreamily.

 

Ferret tactfully did not mention his friend’s thick spectacles or the hearing aids Suds had worn since third grade, or the fact that five foot one guy with a repaired harelip and club foot probably would never resemble Marilyn Monroe.

 

“It’s what I need, Ferret, my man. I’m not just a drag queen, you know.” Pilsudski passed the stick of pot to Ferret.

 

“Suds, you’re a terrible drag queen. Your nose is the size of Mount Rushmore.” Ferret took the joint back and breathed in. “But an operation is…insane. And dangerous, I think.” Ferret paused. “ The city prolly won’t let you drive the sanitation truck any more. And what will you tell your mom?”

 

Suds rolled his eyes. Mrs. Pilsudski had still not quite processed that her young one wasn’t going to be a priest. Even when she’d caught him modeling himself in his sister’s wedding gown, it had not quite gone through. Priests wore pretty clothes, right, and hell, if you became Pope, you got to really dress up!

 

“But then I could maybe marry a straight guy. It would be more normal, doncha think?”

 

Suds tried to picture it…a nice wedding, his mother could just let go of the whole hetero thing, right? Suds in a white dress, all virginal, maybe marrying a cute fireman. Just settling down as a real girl. Or a sort of real girl.

 

Ferret laughed. “When Steve D. from 43^rd Avenue got his dick cut off, the first dude who went to bed with him, or her, turned “Stephanie” over on the stomach and did “her” in the ass anyways…it just didn’t seem um, convincing, the hole.”

 

Suds was silent, as was Ferret. Steve D. had eventually eaten the gun, too. Memorial had been fucked, no clergy would show for it, and it had  just been a lot of lame-ass queens taking their turns babbling over the cremation jug before everyone went out and got blasted at Tequila Mockingbird. Ugh.

 

OLD MEN HAVE MUCH ENERGY, NO?

 

Paul was amazed by the old man, who insisted on being called Grandpa. A bit incestuous, although Paul had never met the guy before. What a blowjob, and apparently Grandpa wanted nothing in return.

 

“It’s been a long time since the equipment down here worked reliably, son.” Grandpa explained. “If you want to shove a little in my backside, I used to keep a nice sign on my wall saying “Entry in rear.”

 

“Well, this is quite a fun romp.” Paul said awkwardly. Here they were, doing it in the pool, and no one cared! Paul wondered why they had private rooms at all. Of course there had to be hygiene issues.

 

Grandpa climbed out of the pool, and Paul watched, astonished as he went to embrace yet another young man. What energy! Paul knew he should leave now. Clarissa probably was feeding Paul Charles and Bethany, and they would expect their father to put in an appearance.

 

Paul loved his kids, and was fond, in a strained way, of Clarissa. But there was a young man with a hairy chest staring at him from across the pool…Paul decided to doggy paddle over and just say hello, for a moment…