I will begin with my first experience with an older man. Through the years, I grew to appreciate the way older men physically feel, their natural smells after rigorous labor, their natural, unsoaped, unperfumed animal body odors. More importantly the way his kisses tastes after sucking my dick or eating my ass.
As a native Chicago youth, I was a shy, scrawny, black kid with pop bottle bottom glasses, a wild imagination and even wilder curiosity. I was a loner, who sometime would explore the back alleys and passages where men, particularly older men would hang out fixing cars, smoking cigars, discarded cigarettes and drink wine, beer or anything to get drunk. Afterward they'd talk loud and long about the old days, famous boxers, other athletes and the women they'd had or wanted.
I'd noticed this one older man, the kids would tease and called him Boss Rags. He was a massive, husky, hairy black giant. His real name was Charles. He'd do odd jobs around the neighborhood. He'd gotten the name Boss Rags because people would give him old clothes that didn't quite fit and were often oddly colored. I noticed him on my way to school in the Spring of 1968, he was working with a building demolition crew. The crew of men were scavenging whole bricks from a downed building and stacking them in neat chimney-like piles. The crew were a mixture of men, young and old, mostly black with a few white laborers. I was mesmerized by Boss Rags and his massive body.
As a native Chicago youth, I was a shy, scrawny, black kid with pop bottle bottom glasses, a wild imagination and even wilder curiosity. I was a loner, who sometime would explore the back alleys and passages where men, particularly older men would hang out fixing cars, smoking cigars, discarded cigarettes and drink wine, beer or anything to get drunk. Afterward they'd talk loud and long about the old days, famous boxers, other athletes and the women they'd had or wanted.
I'd noticed this one older man, the kids would tease and called him Boss Rags. He was a massive, husky, hairy black giant. His real name was Charles. He'd do odd jobs around the neighborhood. He'd gotten the name Boss Rags because people would give him old clothes that didn't quite fit and were often oddly colored. I noticed him on my way to school in the Spring of 1968, he was working with a building demolition crew. The crew of men were scavenging whole bricks from a downed building and stacking them in neat chimney-like piles. The crew were a mixture of men, young and old, mostly black with a few white laborers. I was mesmerized by Boss Rags and his massive body.