Why did I, a queen, date a self-confessed nymphomaniac? Gay denial. In early 1979, after a six-month struggle in wintry London to break into the work-force and enroll at drama school I discovered being the brightest guy in my high school class wasn't all it promised. Disenchanted (also at nineteen) I drifted into gay prostitution in Chelsea's Kings Road after a French-Canadian girlfriend, Janine Cheval, suggested it would be profitable, adding persuasively that it was time I accepted I was gay. Whoring's not necessarily the sordid life it appears in the movies. For me it was fun, sexual power and money - with a bonus. I spent half my time in a warm bed!On my return to my conservative Australian home town, however, I was hit by a guilt-complex, brought on by culture-shock, and felt compelled to come to terms with my physical 'manhood'. Enter Angela - Exit Angela. She now lives happily with a six-foot Jewish tennis player. I'm both happy for her (truly) and envious of her (definitely). BUT here I am, in late 1981, my prospects of finding a job in a recession not looking terribly good and living with mom again in her hastily rented one-bedroom apartment. I adore her, but it's becoming unbearably repressive. My inability to find work and conceal the renaissance of my homosexuality has built tension between us. She's edgy too. I put it down to the end of her 23-year-old marriage, though she dismisses the break-up casually as 'a long time coming' (my parting of the ways with Angela almost coincided with my parent's break-up, a double whammy). Dad is oversees, spending his half of their house money on launching a building business in England. I don't miss him.
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We never hit it off. Mom - or Natalie Wilkins as most people know her (she's reclaimed her maiden name) - is forty, a successful sales executive in the cold foods industry, an intimidatingly religious, always elegant brunette with a middle-class English accent and a prodigious intelligence - a sort of Margaret Thatcher type, except her Joan Baez looks turn men's heads when she walks down the street. She has deep-set hazel eyes and regal, almost Spanish features, though she says she takes after her Scottish mother, my late and beloved nana, a zealous Baptist who produced five children to George Wilkins, a former off-shore fisherman turned fish shop proprietor. There, mom learned her business and people skills. So that's the status quo, mom and me walking 'around' each other in her tiny temporary apartment, trying to silence our jangling nerves with polite small talk. THE evening of the geometric cock I leave the shower with a towel about my waist to find mom on the phone. She's wearing her favorite pink terry-cloth robe. I guess she was in the middle of changing after work when the phone rang. "Of course, Robert," she says in her business voice. "The meeting's definitely on. I look forward to you and Ben coming - as usual. "She replaces the phone and waylays me on my way to my pitiful suitcase (doubling as my wardrobe) residing next to the maroon wingback sofa (doubling as my bed) in the lounge. "This was pushed under the door, Paul," she says, handing me the pink page. "Obviously for you. " She seems to tower over me.
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She's still in her heels because I'm two inches taller than her barefoot 5'4". Her make-up is extraordinarily perfect, lips glossed with a new shade of lipstick, eyes bright, framed by lashes brushed gently with mascara. I'd love her to teach me her restrained, effective make-up techniques. "What?" I take the note, look at it. "God!" Blood surges to my face, prickling my ears with heat. "God?" she replies, eyebrows raised. "Don't think so, darling. He can draw a penis better than that, He made them after all. "She strolls to her favorite wingback chair, settles in it and crosses her legs, arranging her robe fussily before lighting a cigarette. It's a scene from my childhood, with me about to be hauled over the carpet for my indiscretions. She watches me over the flame of her lighter. "Boyfriend?" she asks calmly. I SLUMP heavily on the sofa, conscious of my shaved and moisturized legs, adjust my towel decorously and say, "You know then?""That you're gay? Of course. "Searching for something devastatingly witty to say I give up, blundering insensitively in with, "You'll never be a grandmother, are you upset?"Mom exhales smoke in a vampish Rita Hayworth way that surprises me. "No, Paul, I'm actually terribly glad you're bonding with your feminine side at last.
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""Oh!" This was too easy. "Angela thought it was time too. Not that her opinion matters. ""What?""We had girl talk. ""What did she say?""Secretive bitch treated me like Mother Theresa at first. " We both glance at the ever-present bible on its antique table in the corner. Mom smiles. "I took it into my bedroom and said, 'It's out of the picture, girl talk, Angela!'. She told me you were just 'good friend' though she was pissed off with you wearing her pantie hose, mini skirts and make-up without telling her. "I shrug. "We're about the same size," I mutter. "I just liked - camping it up in her gear. "Mom nods. "Remember the verandah play you put on when you were ten? You had the Jones' brothers play a detective and a burglar. You played a showgirl who'd been robbed.
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I dressed you up in my heels and nylons. You looked so pretty. "I manage a laugh. "Afterwards you had to force me to take off your nylons, I remember. ""For a moment it was like having the daughter I prayed for when I was pregnant. "I study her with interest. "You were going to call me Renee. " "After your father's glam redhead sister I secretly idol-worshipped at the time. ""You said she was a slut. ""Oh, did I?""Well, here I am, Renee!" I throw my arms apart. "Arms like a girl, legs like a girl, penis - " I break off, grimace. "Shit, nearly said penis like a girl!"The icy atmosphere in the apartment melts with our laughter. "Did you suspect I might be gay then?" I ask. "When I was ten?""It occurred," she replies, "you were too vain for a boy. I'd had four brothers to compare you with.
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" She seems to search for words. "Actually, I often thought of you as a girl with a penis. My little Renee!""That's how I saw myself," I say. "I knew I was queer, different anyway, at twelve. Wish you'd talked to me about it. "Mom exhales smoke slowly. "Some things have to work themselves out. ""That sounds as though you wanted me to be gay. "She considers this, staring across the room. "I wanted you to be a girl, Paul," she says at last. "There's a difference. ""Right," I say. "About two inches south. " I grin cheekily. She furrows her forehead.
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"What?" Her face clears. "Oh, vagina and rectum you mean? Very droll. Angela also told me she preferred older men, which of course I knew - ""When I met her she was dating a forty-something used car dealer," I break in. "I was delighted when you two called it a day. ""Relief all round," I agree and wonder whether to expand on it, decide no and simply say, "Did she tell you the baby wasn't mine?" It was suddenly important she know this. She nods curtly. "You hadn't fucked her for a year. " I've never heard that word from her lips before, yet it rolls smoothly off her tongue with none of the bravado emphasis of the hesitant user. "Oh!" I say lamely. "Do you think I wanted my own grandchild aborted? You don't think I believed the crap about Angela wanting a career and you unable to keep a family, do you?""That's why you paid the hospital bills?""I wanted you free of her," mom says. "I also want to be your friend. ""I've always considered you my bestest friend, mom," I say. "Then let's talk. "I glance at her bible. She follows my gaze and, rising, walks to the table.
She picks up the worn book she's had since childhood and takes it to her bedroom. Returning she says, "Out of the picture again. Time for girl talk. ""Girl talk?""Girl talk," she confirms. "Be honest with me, I'll be honest with you. " She holds my gaze. "I'm not as straight as you think, Paul. " I smile as if to say, yeah, sure, mom, you're a real wild broad. Natalie Wilkins, brought up in a strict Baptist home, had often boasted she'd been a seventeen-year-old virgin when she met my father, Joey Gregson. I was born a year later. She returns to her chair, crosses her legs again, this time carelessly allowing her robe to reveal a hint of suspender clamps on a sheer black stocking. It's a deliberate act; a statement that tells me she's chatting with another woman and the usual niceties don't apply. I'm suddenly at ease. It's a different mother in other ways, too. Her eyes are piercing and sophisticated, no longer the placid, all-caring gaze of the world-weary parent, the patient, understanding heartbeat of the household.
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Vices? Mom smokes too much, but rarely drinks. She reads the bible every night but loves racy novels and keeps fit at an aerobics class twice a week. She scoffs Royal Jelly and a handful of daily vitamin pills every day and has a 'plentiful supply' of some 'health elixir' she let slip about after too many brandies one Christmas. Mother often becomes giggly after brandy. But she clammed up about her elixir when I pressed, firmly ending the conversation with, 'Let's just say it's one of God's precious tonics and I hate to see it wasted. " "I'm really quite a bitch," she says now. "You're a strong woman, mom," I agree tactfully. "No, I'm a bitch, and proud of it," she replies. "So how about a mother and daughter talk. " She glances at her watch. "Mother and daughter?" I repeat, my mind racing. She stubs out her cigarette. "Let's talk, Renee!" she says firmly. "I LIKE it when you call me that," I reply. "Then be Renee," she says.
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"It's terribly hard for you to be Paul all the time. "Tears inexplicably prick my eyes. A sigh comes from somewhere deep, perhaps expunged by the secret woman in me, long trapped in a biological male shell and by psychological male expectations. No more. I let it out and look around the tastefully furnished lounge with its antique knickknacks as though seeing it for the first time. "I'd love that," I say and cross the room to help myself, shakily, to a cigarette from her pack on the arm of her chair. Lighting it with the silver Ronson I bought for her birthday a year or two ago, my towel slips. I catch it inelegantly at mid-thigh to hurriedly wrap it about my waist again. As far as I know she hasn't seen me naked since I was twelve. Snapping a helpless glance to the ceiling I say, "That didn't help my Renee image, did it?""Why not?" She shrugs. "Your penis doesn't change anything. It's how you think and you don't think like a man. "I adopt a vampish pose, toss my hair and parade before her in my towel and best camp slink, hand on hip, slim and straight, all 5' 6" of me, cigarette held aloft. "What makes you say that?" I ask huskily. We laugh.
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"Nice swish," she says, but I know she's surprised. It's a me she's never seen. "How long have men been fucking you?"I plonk myself back on the sofa, drag on my cigarette with a flourish. "Since I was nineteen, mom. "She nods. "Your London jaunt? I suspected that was why you never asked for money. " She points to the note. "Are you going to see who that is at nine?""Not sure. Most of the men call it 'the square', so it looks a bit suss. But it might be a millionaire in a Mercedes who's heard about me on the gayvine. " I hold up the pink paper with its stylistic fellatio sketch and say airily, "Maybe my reputation's spreading. "Mother goes tense, staring at me. "Reputation for what?" Waving the pink note I say, "You know, this. . .
" "Cocksucking?"Blushing again I stammer, "L-l-let's face it, mom, I've the perfect mouth for it, guys love my mou - " I break off. Her eyes have widened alarmingly. My mouth, with its full lips and strong white teeth is a Wilkins mouth, a near-perfect copy of hers. "God, I'm sorry, I didn't mean, oh, shit!""That's all right," she says, but she looks stunned and I'm sure I can see her mentally turning the morality pages of her bible. "Look, mom, please, no lectures on sin and - ""No lecture, Renee, this is girl talk. " I watch her warily. "No Bible quotes?""No - " she pauses. "Yes, just one, 'To thine own self be true!'""I can live with that. ""What do you do when he comes?" she asks flatly. "What?""When you're sucking a man's cock, do you spit or swallow his cum?""Why?" I laugh nervously. This is getting deep. "It's a simple question that requires a simple answer, Renee!""Swallow. " I shrug. "This may sound weird, mom, but it's - ah - good for you. I read that in a gay mag in London.
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A doctor said - "Mom cuts me off with a dismissing hand. "You don't have to convince me, darling," she says. "It contains calcium and vitamin B12. Nothing remotely harmful. ""I didn't know biology was your thing?""It's not, but I have diploma on the subject. "Confused, I frown. "A diploma in biology?""No, darling," she says. "Semen!""Mother!" I laugh at the absurdity of it. "Not true!"She gazes at me thoughtfully. "I'm going to tell you everything," she says softly, so softly it's almost as though the words are for her ears only. Perhaps they are, for she adds, in a calm, louder voice, "Girl talk?""Of course!""Renee," she says, "Semen's my health elixir!"Staring at mom I know my eyes have grown huge. My mind jumps back to that Christmas when, party hat falling in my eyes I cajoled her, "Come on, what's your secret health elixir?""You drink cum?" I ask her now in an unnecessary whisper. "How?" She drops her head to one side, gazing at me as one would an imbecile. "I don't believe you," I say. "No sex, of course, I'm not a prostitute.
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""I still don't believe you. ""That I'm not a prostitute or that I suck men's cocks?""That - that you suck men's cocks. ""You can't imagine me with a man's penis in my mouth?" She seems amused. "No, I mean, yes, I mean you're - married, well, when you were - ah - " I'm talking myself deep into hot water and know it. "No, I can't, mom. ""Well, let me show you something. " She leaves the lounge, returns a few moments later with what I quickly see are two ornate diplomas in black frames. I stare at them quizzically. "These were printed by a boy I knew years ago," she says. "Meant as a joke but they've come in handy. Read this one, Renee!"I take it, stare at it in disbelief. It reads. Semen is the source of life for the unborn and an elixir of good health for the living; a penis is the fountain from which it springs Ancient Chinese belief. This certifies that Natalie Wilkins as head of the 'Fountain of Health Club' is a consummate Semen-Taster. "Semen-taster!" I whisper dizzily.
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"Mom, there must be a fifty names here. ""Sixty-seven," mom replies. "Read this one. "The second diploma is signed similarly, and reads, This certifies that Natalie Wilkinsis rated by the undersigned members of her 'Fountain of Health Club' as an expert Cocksucker In testimony thereof she is awarded this Diploma dated this day, 27 June, 1957My hands on the frame are trembling. My mother, a cocksucking machine? Watching me warily she goes to the liquor cabinet, fusses with bottles as though checking contents and, satisfied, turns to me. "Drink? I think we both need one. ""Yes," I say shakily. "Vodka and lime, thanks. ""I'll join you. " She mixes two drinks, returns, hands me one and settles back in her chair. "Interested in my story?" she asks. Taking a mouthful of vodka I ease it down my throat. "Oh, my God, yes," I wheeze, nodding furiously. "You never have sex?" I probe. "My cunt's off-limits, Renee," she says baldly.
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"I let them caress my breasts though. I get more elixir that way. ""You've never broken the rule?""Girl talk?""Of course. " "Once. ""Who with?""Bob Taylor. "My mouth opens in amazement. "I remember. Tall guy, always wore khaki shirts and trousers. ""That's Bob. Painter and decorator. Worked for your dad when we were building those houses. You were thirteen then, I think. He lived down the road and was always popping in to talk business. " Her smile is enigmatic. "Or so he liked us to think.
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He was about to pull out of a job because your dad was having trouble raising money. Nice, quiet guy. Lonely middle-aged bachelor, and I knew he had the hots for me. It was obvious, even in his shy way, but I'd made it clear, the way a woman can with subtle hints that I took my marriage vows seriously. "I giggle. "But sucking him off wouldn't affect your vows, right?""Right. He was a tall, healthy, good-looking chap and even his baggy pants couldn't hide his big cock and balls. But with him being your dad's friend and employee I had to be careful. "Then things got desperate when Bob said he had to quit the project and I finally told your father the truth about my club and showed him my diplomas and told him I didn't think our vows included what I put in my mouth. If I made Bob a member of my club I'd be able to keep him in line, I said. ""God, what did dad say?"Mom lights a cigarette. "It wasn't easy convincing him that fellating men wasn't sexual for me. " She exhales smoke. "But finally he said, 'OK, as long as that's as far as it goes'. So I turned my sewing room into a personal den and hung my diplomas on the wall.
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""That's why you kept the room locked?"Mom laughs, eyes flashing. "I was my own woman again. One evening when Bob came around to talk business with your father I served their whiskies wearing tight white shorts I knew made Bob very hot. When he queried why I wasn't joining them in a drink I smiled sweetly and said, 'My favourite drink's mixing in its cocktail shaker now, Bob. ' Your father, to my surprise, said, 'Make that a double, Nat. ' He was turned on by the whole thing. When it was clear Bob was going to pull his men off the job with his pathetic, 'Joe, I'm sorry, Joe, I have to think of my wage bill, Joe' your father nodded the 'all-clear' to me and I took over; inviting Bob to join my club. " She sips her drink. "What happened?" I say impatiently. "He thought it was a Bible club," she says with a short laugh. "He ummed and ahhed about not having much money on him for donations and I said, 'Donations aren't financial, Bob. Why don't the three of us go into my den, you can read my diplomas. "I jab the diploma. "I've found his name. "Mom nods.
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"It worked perfectly," she says. "After I'd sucked their penises your father and Bob bonded in that peculiar way men do and sat down to discuss ways of raising money together. Later Bob, very shyly, told me he had another donation for me if I wanted it, and I had to pretend I wasn't enjoying it because your father was watching and trying to build up another donation by masturbating. " She shakes her head. "Men, they always have to compete. ""Pretty stupid, aren't they?" I say. "Well, it was crazy to compete with Bob," mom continues. "He never masturbated and he had no girlfriend, so his cum was always seasoned, like yellow custard, gorgeous. And compared to most men he produced it by the cupful. His balls were huge, so I guess he had seminal glands to match. I've never had a member who delivered elixir like Bob Taylor. "We started a weekly cocktail hour, though Bob called it my CockTaylor hour and he accepted the club's rule. 'My pants stay on, Bob,' I told him. 'Always!'"I study her shrewdly. "But they didn't.
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"Mom sighs deeply. "A mistake. I'd never had sex with any man except your dad and I felt the clock was ticking, so one cocktail hour I wore a very light billowy chiffon frock and let Bob see I was naked underneath when I sat down. The only time I've been a whore. It ruined everything. I lost control of Bob after that. He grew possessive and silly. So I ended it. ""Did dad find out?""Yes, we agreed it was inevitable. I told him he could fuck someone as well. ""Did he?""Not for years, said he hadn't met anyone he wanted. Then he did, and I said, 'OK, fuck the bitch. '""Who?"Mom observes me through her exhaled smoke. "Take a sip of vodka, Renee. ""Why?""It was Angela!"MIND spinning I take another huge mouthful of vodka.
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"Angela!" I repeat, hoarse from burning alcohol or shock, I'm not sure. "They were making eyes at each other and I wanted her out of your life so it was perfect. The ass wasn't supposed to get the silly bitch pregnant, though. ""My God, it explains so much. " I burst out laughing at the absurdities of life. At my notions of my square mother and father and oh-so-cool me - the sexual rebel, only to discover my parents were rebels extraordinaires. "Is this why you and dad broke up?""No," mother says emphatically. "He wanted me to close my club, I wanted to increase its members. I'm getting older, I need more elixir, not less. I was infuriated by his hypocrisy. It was okay when it benefited him, with Bob Taylor, for instance, and other business associates. You wouldn't believe the unsavoury men I've sucked off for your father. " She holds her head back on her long neck and stares, challenging. "I like to select my own members, so I ended our marriage. " She glances at her watch.
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"Which reminds me, Robert and Ben will be here shortly. " I remember her on the phone earlier. "Who are they?" But I know. "Two of my members," she confirms, adding meaningfully. "My first elixir ritual since you've been home. "Reality sinks in and I say, devastated, "I'm sorry. We should've talked sooner. So that's why things have been so tense around here?""Yes, darling. " She says frankly, glancing round the lounge. "Put your suitcase and blankets behind the sofa, they look so untidy. ""Of course. " I jump up. "I'll get dressed first. " I begin to gather up some clothes. "I'll change in the bathroom.
""Since when is nudity between a mother and daughter a problem, Renee?""Ah, it's a bit embarrassing, mom. ""Because you've a hard-on? God, I've seen hundreds. ""All this talk of men," I say faintly. "Of course. "We look at each other in silence for a moment, then I nod and discard my towel with a bravura flourish. The moment I'm naked in front of her it seems perfectly natural. "Be out of your way in a few minutes," I assure her. "No need," she asserts. "Not after our girl talk. Stay!" I turn to look at her. She raises her enquiring eyebrows. "Robert and Ben are both attractive men," she says. "Not gay unfortunately, otherwise I'd let you have one of them. " She stubs out her cigarette. "But they'll be naked too so don't bother dressing.
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" Standing, she shucks her old terry-cloth robe and, miraculously, mom is gone, replaced by a vamp in red bikini pants, black suspender belt, black sheer nylons and black heels. "This is as far as I go, though," she says. I stare enviously at her small, taut breasts and exercise-toned legs. "Not bad for forty, Renee," she says, guessing my thoughts. "Fabulous, mom," I agree. "You look great!""Thank you, darling. " She takes her robe to the bedroom and returns, and her walk - straight-backed with head held high on her long neck - is that of a mature woman in total control of her finely tuned body. Once again I'm envious. She's fastening a string of cultured pearls about her neck. "Symbolic balls of elixir," she says with a laugh. She settles back in her chair, crosses her legs and reaches for her cigarettes. "Do you want to stay?" she asks. "You'll find watching my members very stimulating. " She looks meaningfully at my penis. I know what she's thinking!There's a strained silence between us as she lights her cigarette and I rapidly loose my erection.
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She points to the diplomas on the sofa. "Semen gives life to the unborn and health to the living, remember?" she says. "And mothers enjoy the fruit of their sons' sperm, don't they?"I stare at her blankly. "Grandchildren," she explains. "But with you being a queen. . . " her voice trails. The emotionally blackmailing bitch! Yet I can't help admiring her. She fixes me with a steady gaze. "It won't be incest, Renee," she argues reasonably. "No more sexual for us than me holding a hankie to your nose as a child and saying, 'blow!'"Laughing at her weird logic I look down at myself. "About the same size too," I quip. "Guess it makes sense, mom. Waste not, want not, right?"She nods.
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"Right, darling. But I'll take yours in a sherry glass, if you prefer. "Picking up the fellatio sketch I say, "Since you've got two elixir suppliers tonight I think I'll see if this guy's still around. ""You won't find him. ""What do you mean?""My club's not a sordid bedroom scene, Renee, I hold my elixir rituals here. " She nods at the sketch in my hand. "I drew that to get you out of the way tonight. "THE ENDNota Bene: I stayed to become an honorary member of her club; serving my elixir in a crystal glass, of course, I'm not sick!More Taboo Incest Hardcore AtREAL INCEST&INCEST CARTOONS&INCEST THEATER.
