Nasty, Nasty Boy

To education and to my stepfather who always expressed the importance of it.

Published by Claytoven Walker

Copyright 2011 Claytoven Walter

Smashwords Edition License Notes

Clay Walker had grown weary of living a cloistered life at the Unificational Church. He was tired of selling flowers on street corners and pretending to be happy, to be pious, when, inside, he felt sad and hypocritical. Most of all he wanted to get rid of the guilty conscience* plaguing his mind. He had finally come to accept his homosexuality; for there was nothing to do to change it. Religion obviously wasn’t helping. Being gay wasn’t a choice; it was part of who he was. He had also decided to speak with the church director, Mr. Stetler, about leaving.

The next morning, Clay awoke and telephoned his mother, Ruth, who lived on Chicago’s south side. She hadn’t heard from her son for many years because one policy of the Unificational Church is their members must relinquish all ties with their past, sinful life.

Hi mama, will you come and pick me up? he asked.

Of course, she replied with surprise and contentment in her voice.

Clay could hear the joy in his mother’s voice. Her son had left home at the age of eighteen to join the Unificational Church. She cried so many nights after his departure. She thought she had lost her son forever. Therefore, you can understand the joy she felt upon hearing those precious words.

After making arrangements with his mother, Clay spoke with Mr. Stetler. He dreaded having to have this conversation. Mr. Stetler had always been a good brother in Christ, and a good friend.

Mr. Stetler I’ve decided to leave the church, said Clay, lowering his head to conceal his shame.

Why Clay? he asked, surprised.

Because I know the church’s position on homosexuality and I’m gay.

Mr. Stetler was even more surprised to hear those words. He had never imagined hearing Clay speak them, and so honestly also.

I’ve already phoned my mother, Clay continued; she will arrive shortly to pick me up and take me home.

Mr. Stetler began to explain to Clay the peril awaiting his soul once he’d left the confines of the church. His efforts were all in vain; all his good advice fell on deaf ears, for Clay had made up his mind. He was going to leave. Ultimately, Mr. Stetler realized there was nothing he could say or do to change Clay’s mind.

This is not a prison Clay. If you’ve decided to go and there’s nothing I can say to alter that decision, then I must allow you to leave. However, it’s my duty to warn you that you will have a difficult life.

Mr. Stetler’s grave tone changed as he asked, At what time will your mother arrive to pick you up Clay?

She’ll arrive soon, he replied.

When his mother arrived, Clay was waiting at the front door with the same small suitcase he’d arrived with several years prior. When he had entered the church at the age of eighteen to renounce the world, even though he knew not the world, he had few possessions. When his eyes met his mother’s the love he had always felt for her was still there, and she had definitely not stopped loving and thinking daily about her first born son. It was as if no time at all had passed between them. They had been united in love forever and there was nothing that could happen that would change that wonderful situation, or so the young man thought. His mother didn’t want to meet the church director. She had always felt some trickery had occurred to make her son leave home so abruptly. She simply wanted to bask in the happiness of her son’s return home.

Are you ready to go? his mother asked.

I guess so. I’ve already said goodbye to everyone, he answered.

It had been four years since Clay had been home. When he arrived he felt like a stranger. His two brothers, Randy and Ronald, and his two sisters, Barbra and Linda, were happy he was home too. They loved their brother; he had always seemed special. To celebrate, his mother cooked a wonderful meal that evening and they ate joyously while Clay recounted his experiences during the past four years. His sister Barbra, seeing him again for the first time said:

He looks like Moses when he came down from the mountain with the Ten Commandments.

They all laughed. It felt good to be home. It was great to see his mother, his step-father, Russell, and his brothers and sister and to be back with them all, but Clay was different from them and he knew it. That night, as he laid in bed, he felt as though his life was beginning anew. What would he do next? When he was a child, he had always dreamed of becoming a doctor. He had always been a good student and probably could have become a doctor if he had honestly set his mind to it. At this point, however, he wasn’t sure and decided to simply enjoy being home for now.

Ultimately, Clay decided to become a hairstylist. There was a cosmetology school in downtown Chicago that interested him, Marinello’s. Marinello’s was a fine school with a wonderful reputation. Furthermore, he loved downtown Chicago; it was so proud, sophisticated and exciting. Downtown Chicago was not only beautiful, but it was also the place where Clay had encountered lots of gay sexual activity in the men’s room of high end department stores, which he stumbled upon just by chance. Was it really just by chance? Lots of freaky white men would frequent them and they intrigued him, because Chicago was a very segregated city in the 70s. Clay was a budding snow queen, even though he wouldn’t know that’s what it was called until many years later.

Although he held fond memories of downtown Chicago, Clay had his first gay sexual experience in his own neighborhood. It was with the boy next door. Actually, the boy lived a few doors away; his name was Dicky. He was the finest teenager in the neighborhood to Clay that is. At the time he and Clay started messing around Dicky was about sixteen. Clay was fourteen. Manhood was developing beautifully in Clay’s young companion. He was tall, medium complexion with broad shoulders and chest muscles that already popped. The rest of his body was just as perfect, strong legs, chiseled abs and a firm ass. Dicky was a classic jock. His face retained its boyish charm, and he had a sexy smile. At sixteen, Dicky already possessed a man-sized penis also.

Clay was his complete opposite. He was petite, stylish, extremely handsome, but somewhat soft and feminine. The teenage girls in the neighborhood adored him. Clay not only had a boyfriend, but he also had a girlfriend; her name was Gwen. She was an early bloomer too. At the age of fourteen she was already what some would have called a brick shit house. She had long, beautiful hair, a gorgeous face and figure, and talk about ass. That girl had an ass that had all the teenage boys and some men in the neighborhood drooling. However, she was merely a cover for Clay’s burgeoning homosexuality; he really loved Dicky.

Dicky finished school after Clay and after a hard day studying, they would get together. They usually kissed and fondled each other at Clay’s house. Dicky would come over and they’d go to the boy’s room in the basement for privacy, completely oblivious to what adults might think about their close friendship. One day, they were in Clay’s room kissing like Romeo, and Juliette, but they forgot to lock the door. Brenda, the first born, entered the room and was completely shocked to see her eldest brother in the arms of this older boy. Immediately, she ran and told her mother.

Mama Clay and Dicky are downstairs in the room kissing, she shouted.

Clay could hear her ratting him out from the basement room. He felt fear mounting inside him as he searched his young mind for excuses to appease his mother. There were none; therefore, he simply decided to lie.

Clay, come up here boy! shouted his mother from her upstairs room.

When Barbra left the room, Clay told Dicky to go home, which he gladly did. He didn’t want to be a part of this unhappy scene, which frightened him also. More than anything, Dicky hoped Clay’s mother wouldn’t say anything to his mother about it.

When Clay arrived at his mother’s room he was shaking like a leaf.

Boy was you down there in that room kissing Dicky? his mother demanded, feigning anger.

Naw mama, answered Clay as he lowered his heading indicating he was lying.

His mother knew he was lying; she knew Clay better than he knew himself. What could his mother do about it? She wasn’t about to punish her child for something as harmless and as innocent as that.

The next day, Clay and Dicky were kissing again, but this time at Dickey’s house with the door locked. Clay enjoyed sucking on Dickey’s thick, hard dick. Hey, that’s what some homosexuals do. Dicky enjoyed it too. During one of their make out sessions, Dicky had even tried to stick his big dick into Clay’s ass. It was much too painful.

Dicky wasn’t the only man in Clay’s life though. Clay was also attracted to his high school music teacher, Mr. Parker. Mr. Parker was a sexy black male about mid thirties with a great body. He was obviously gay and had a high pitched voice like Sylvester’s. During Clay’s freshman year, he enrolled in Mr. Parker’s class. It goes without saying that Mr. Parker’s gaydar was fine tuned enough to realize Clay was gay, just as Clay knew Mr. Parker was gay. They were also aware of the fact there was mutual attraction between the two of them. To make a long story short, one day after class Mr. Parker invited Clay to his apartment and he accepted. The following Saturday afternoon, Clay arrived at Mr. Parker’s knowing what to expect. However, when the time came to do the deed, Clay got scared and left abruptly. Could that be the reason why some people believe gay teachers are all child molesters?

Clay’s puppy love affair with Dicky and his infatuation for his music teacher lasted until he graduated high school and joined the Unificational Church. Was God trying to save him? Who knows? However, now that Clay was no longer a member of the Church, he felt as though he had wasted four years of his life. They were surely not wasted years, for during that time a religious foundation had developed in him that would be with him all his life. He figured that during those four wasted years, he could have gone to and graduated from college, and be on his way toward fulfilling his childhood dream of becoming a doctor. Nonetheless, there he was once again in downtown Chicago on his way to an interview to enter cosmetology school.

The interview was non-threatening and the director of admissions found Clay a well qualified applicant. He was accepted and for the next year Clay proved to be a promising student. He was punctual, courteous, and, most importantly, the women loved him. Too bad he wasn’t interested in them. One woman was especially fond of him, Brenda. Brenda worked for Amtrak. When the train stopped in Chicago, she would come to the school and have her hair done. Her favorite