The Big One

















 Art & Story by Michael Kirwan

Johnny Mac was everybody’s idol back then, with his handsome face, great body and attitude for days. I worshipped him from afar until one day I decided to play hooky and ended up playing “nookie” with Johnny, instead.

His real name was John Patrick McManus, but from my earliest recollection, everyone always referred to him as Johnny Mac. He was the coolest teenager alive when I was a kid, his cigarette was always perfectly angled on his thick bottom lip as he leaned against the parked cars and ran his ever-present pocket comb through his high, greasy pompadour and lush, inky sideburns.

He lived with his mother on the fourth floor midway down the block. His dad was fondly recalled over beers at the local tavern, where his pious old mom could sometimes be found singing Irish ditties with the other mothers. There was also talk that Johnny had a J.D. card for some unknown attempt. I was tempted to ask if he carried this testament to his juvenile delinquency in his wallet but had never gotten the nerve to ask.

One day when I should have been in school handing in a report on the French-Indian war and fretting over an unstudied-for chemistry exam and worried that I might not graduate (I was eighteen and Johnny Mac was 19), instead I was sitting on the church park bench wondering exactly what one did while playing hooky. With my school blazer and striped tie I was an obvious target for the dreaded truant officer. It was strange to be out at this time of day and committing my first “crime.” I kicked at a pigeon near my foot and considered riding the subway all day, but then decided I’d make myself an even more obvious target for truancy. Maybe I’d better go to school and face the music ...

“Whatcha doin’, Joey? Playin’ hooky?”

I looked up at Johnny Mac. He was carrying a bag of bakery donuts in one hand the in the other he gripped the leash of his dog Queenie. His cigarette bobbed in his mouth as he spoke.

“Come on, you can hide out at my house. You’re a sittin’ duck out here with that costume on.”

I trotted along beside him, explaining my dilemma and trying not to sound to scared. Queenie’s breathing was ragged as she waddled her scruffy white body ahead of us, sniffing at other dog’s markers along the way. Johnny Mac knowingly informed me that he had to sneak me into his apartment from the backyard, otherwise the nosy neighborhood biddies would squawk. We dragged that poor old dog up the stairs, over a roof, down the fire escape and into his living room. Queenie wheezed her way to the water bowl while we went down the hall and into his room. It was a dizzying thrill to be in Johnny’s bedroom. Everything fascinated me: The bed, the posters, the albums, and the baseball glove. He snapped on the radio and moved some clothes and stuff off the bed, and then, to my surprise and horror he kicked off his sneakers and then took his pants off before sitting down on the end of the bed and lighting a cigarette.

He grinned at me and said, “I take my pants off so’s that they don’t get covered with Queenie’s hair. It’s all over the place. You’d better do the same or those school pants will be covered with white hair and you’ll have a problem explaining where it came from.”

He pointed to the closet where I found a coat hanger to put my stuff on. I was embarrassed and hoped that I didn’t look to scrawny and silly. I hoped that my underwear was clean and hole-free. I prayed that I’d be able to conceal the boner that had a way of making a surprise appearance every once in a while.

But, I was here with HIM and no matter what my problems, at school or anywhere else could take the place of my happiness sitting there in my dress shirt, briefs and socks. We talked about school and the neighborhood and sports. I stared at him. I gazed into his green, heavily lashed eyes, sneaked peeks at the lump in his cotton shorts, black curls surrounding the edges of the tight legs. Occasionally he’d scratch or rearrange the mystery beneath the fabric. A couple of times I thought he caught me looking but he didn’t say anything and once or twice he seemed to stretch out, thrusting the bulge out a bit further, making the outline of his dick more visible. I don’t know why I was so curious to see this part of his anatomy; I wasn’t particularly interested in knowing what any of the other guys had “down there.” Maybe it was because it was Johnny Mac and we were in his room and we were sharing this secret time that no one else would ever know about. Whatever the case, I felt more safe and comfortable than I’d ever felt before in my whole life. And maybe that’s why I asked him about the whole Juvy Hall thing.

“Man, that was a long time ago,” he said. “I’m surprised you even know about that.”

He laughed and lit another cigarette. He was a great storyteller and the saga of his arrest for car theft complete with impersonations of everyone including his mother and the judge was hilarious. He’d spent eight months in juvenile detention upstate. I was amazed that he could make the story funny.

“Did they beat you up, and stuff like that?” I asked.

“Naw. I kinda took it as a long, lousy vacation.”

“Didn’t you miss ... you know ... having a girlfriend?”

He looked at me strangely, like he wasn’t sure of what I was asking, but then he said, “If I tell you something will you swear not to say anything to anybody, ever.”

“I promise. Look, I’m the one playin’ hooky and you’re hiding me out ... I owe you,” I joked.

He didn’t seem appeased. He got up off the bed and went over to the door and closed and locked it. Then he pulled down the yellow shade at the window and then, leaning against his desk, he pulled out a new cigarette. In the weirdly shadowed room, full of smoke and dusk, he asked me again never to repeat what he was going to tell me, something he had never told another person. I crossed my heart and told him that’d I’d do anything he asked to seal the bargain.

“Well,” he began. “I was dating Donna Esposito back then and two days before I got sent away, she let me play with her titties without her bra on and she touched my cock for the first time. I had this big hardon from makin’ out and then kissin’ those sweet titties and then I haul out my prick and she wraps those cold, skinny fingers around my tool and I fuckin’ shoot my load all over her hand. If I hadn’t gotten sent away I’m sure ... well, anyway, I’m in this dorm and there’s nobody there but hardass guys like me and all I’m thinkin’ about is Donna’s fingers with those long pink nails stroking my meat.” Johnny Mac was slowly squeezing the pouch of his underwear while telling this part of the story. I could easily make out the thick tube-like shaft and the ridge around the head of his cock. He slowly and hypnotically pulled more and more, stretching the white fabric, the lowering waistband exposing dense black hair and eventually the root of his cock. I was rolling my thumb across the stick of my own boner in time with Johnny Mac, wishing I could have the long bloated dick he was fingering, wishing that I had all that tangled, curly black pubic hair he had exploding around the edges of his jockeys.

He continued his tale: “So, I’m throwin’ hardons all the time cause there ain’t really nothin’ else to do up there and I see that the other guys are doin’ the same thing but then goin’ upstairs to this closed-off bathroom. So I go up one day and there’s these two guys sittin’ in stalls suckin’ dick after dick as these guys come up to them. I’m like, ‘What’s this faggot shit?’ an’ the guy behind me on line says, ‘Hey there’s no pussy up here so if these guys like suckin’ cock, why not make everybody happy? This goes on in prisons all the time.’ So, I let this punk sitting in the stall suck on my dick. It’s no big deal and it felt great-So, I started going and getting off three or four times a day. It was real cool and the guards never hassled us. I think they knew about it.”

He stood there in the shadows, masturbating his man-size prick through the damp, stretched out material of his underwear, a thick oily band of black hair hanging down his forehead, his curled lips slightly parted, showing his white teeth. And the only thing I could say, which came out as a hoarse whisper was, “I can’t even imagine what it would be like to have another guy’s cock in my mouth.”

He came over to where I was sitting at the end of his bed and looked down into my eyes. “Why imagine it?” he asked as he lowered his shorts and lazily aimed his fat cock less than an inch from my open mouth He pressed forward until the crinkled oozing foreskin tip was jammed against my lips and teeth. He waited in that position for almost a full minute and then he felt my mouth open and my tongue snake into the cone of wrinkled, salty flesh. I tasted a bubble of precum slip out of the piss-slit and opened my mouth wide, accepting his big, silky mancock.

Above me, as Johnny Mac slowly rocked his prick across my tongue and deeper towards my throat, his voice was very soft, no more than a murmur, and he crooned, “Yeah, that’s it, little Joey, you’re doin’ good, baby. Watch the teeth now. Be careful, That’s good ... that’s the way ... there you go ... there you go ... ”

I was yelled at and threatened for not going to school. My parents grounded me and I was given detention for two weeks. For the next few weeks I didn’t get a chance to talk to him but he gave me subtle signals, like a wink, a crooked smile.

When I was let out of the house, I sat on our stoop and watched Johnny Mac across the street with some of his cronies, laughing and shoving and carrying on. Just when I started to feel really uncomfortable down in my gut and wondered if I should go inside, he broke away from his pals and walked over to me.

“How long can you stay out tonight?” he asked.

“Until eleven. No school tomorrow.” I answered.

“Good, come with me.” He said.

And I followed him down the block, around the corner and then again through the maze of alleyways. My stomach was roiling and for the first time ever, I smelled the sweat from my armpits.

“Come on,” he said.

We crept into the pitch-black hallway and he guided me towards his room. He didn’t want to turn on any lights and alert some of his friends who’d then drop by, unannounced. Luckily he had a nightlight in his room and it lit things up enough so that we could see each other. Queenie coughed her annoyance as she was herded out of the room and I pulled down the shade. Johnny Mac turned the radio on real low. He pushed me down on the bed and stuck his tongue inside my mouth and swirled it around. My stiff dick was grinding into the soft rise of his belly so I squirmed around until the head lodged into his belly button. He smiled at me and then he spread his legs out wide. I put my legs close together, trapping his big, chunky cock between my thighs. We began sliding up and down on each other, looking at each other cross-eyed, our noses rubbing, a pool of cum leaKed from my dick, filling his indented belly, that and the sweat made us sticky and slippery. When I shifted down to taste one of those marvelous nipples, I felt the fat, dribbling head of his cock press into the space between my small tight nuts and my asscrack.

I looked up into his beautiful face, my lips still closed around his brown tit and he reached around and began kneading my butt cheeks, the tip of his prick moving a millimeter at a time until it finally grazed my asshole.

“Reach down there and pull my foreskin way back on my dick, Joey,” he said, thrusting his engorged nipple deeper into my mouth.

My hand slid over his big strong hand, I could barely feel any of the soft skin of my own asscheek, and it fit so well into his cupped palm. He spread my cheeks wide apart and my fingers touched his now familiar prick. I lightly touched my own unfamiliar asshole, tracing its shape, somehow knowing that that particular configuration of flesh might never feel the same again. My hand grasped the thick, silky sleeve and pushed it back over and over until it seemed to understand what I wanted of it. Bringing my hand back up the now obedient shaft, I pressed the tip of his spongy cockhead against my asshole a couple of times to give it some guidance, and then delicately I stroked his knuckles before withdrawing my hand.

Johnny Mac smiled at me, his eyes a little glazed. He scooped up a glob of cum from his navel and transferred it to my asshole and his dicktip which, by now were occupying the same exact space.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked.

I nodded into his chest and felt my hips being pushed down.

“Are you sure?” I nodded again and felt the helmet of his cock slide into my tight butt. It felt alien and huge, but it didn’t move except in a miniscule circular motion until I relaxed a bit.

Johnny Mac spoke into the hair at the top of my head. I could feel his hot breath on my scalp. “Relax, just relax ... ”

More of his fat prick slid into me. He spit into his hand and slopped it on the shaft of his cock still outside of my ass rim. I kissed him on the mouth and chin and then sat back, forcing the entire length of his pole way deep into me. Then the real fucking began.

I played hooky more often (not to avoid tests and missing assignments anymore, just to be with him.) I got into more trouble with my folks. Johnny Mac gave me a set of barbells and I would work out whenever I got the chance.

A few weeks later my father announced that we were moving to a house in the suburbs, there were too many “foreigners” moving into the block. The move was hectic and adjusting to having a house and new friends was difficult. By then I had graduated high school. I kept planning trips to the old neighborhood but it was too far away and I had too many responsibilities now, having to go to work days and to night school. I missed Johnny Mac desperately at first but I called once or twice and was told the phone had been disconnected. I wrote to him but didn’t hear anything back. And, life went on. I still miss him.


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They may not be: redistributed; sold; altered; enhanced; modified by artificial, digital or computer imaging;
used on another website or blog; posted to any internet or computer newsgroup, forum or media sharing site;
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