One summer, several of the other boys in the neighborhood and I decided to make a tree house in the woods. In spite of the fact that I was a known faggot, the other boys either didn’t care or thought they knew better because we had all grown up together. I passed a zillion sissy tests to prove how tough I was—jumping off this, riding my bike over that, setting fire to something else. Perhaps they were even titillated by the idea of my being a cock sucker. In any case, they never gave me any shit about it. Not far from our neighborhood, there was a plant that manufactured rubber products and behind it were huge stacks of wooden pallets with piles of rubber mats on them. We dragged a bunch of the pallets through the woods and constructed ourselves a tri-level tree house that you could stand up in, with a roof. We decided to line our tree house with the rubber mats to keep the cold weather out, so we nailed them inside and outside the pallets with about three inches in between for insulation. Our tree house had a door and a window, a mattress and a cooler. Once finished, it became Michael’s and my regular spot for after-school sex.

One day, when we were thirteen, Michael was hit by a car and broke his leg. Going up to the tree house became impossible. I would have to visit him at his house, a place I generally avoided due to the tension with his older brother. Although I wasn’t exactly his mother’s favorite person in the world, she seemed to be softening to me, as I was the only one of Michael’s friends who came to visit him on a regular basis when, due to his crutches, he was unable to pursue his Dudley Do-Right lifestyle of delivering papers, mowing lawns, and all the other activities that made him shine so brightly in the eyes of the neighborhood adults. His mother thought it was nice that I would come and keep him company. He would make himself comfortable on a bean-bag chair in the TV room with his leg elevated and I would sometimes give him blow jobs when he was in that position, making sure that I was positioned in just the right spot so that I could lean on his leg and make him scream in pain while I was sucking his dick, just so he knew who was in charge.

In the evening his parents were usually in the TV room, so we would go up to Michael’s room and do “homework.” It was a Sunday night and Michael was in bed with his leg on a cushion. He had just gotten a new Sonny and Cher record and we struck a deal that I would suck him for ten minutes and then he had to suck me for ten minutes while we listened to side one. He had gotten a new digital clock for Christmas and it was right by his bed. Trust me when I tell you I had my mouth on his cock and my eyes on the clock. As soon as my ten minutes were up I took a standing position next to his bed because his leg wouldn’t bend and I was six minutes into my blow job when I heard a rustling in the hallway and there stood Evelyn Hunter with a look of shock and rage such as I’d never seen. Her teased and frosted hair went paler in the dark shadows of the hallway and her voice bellowed out, “What are you doing!? No . . . I don’t want to know. Get out! Get out!” She became hysterical, and told me to never set foot in her house again. She screamed at me as I zipped up my pants, “I should call your mother right now!”

“Don’t call my mother!”

“Well, will you tell her what happened?”

“Yes, I’ll tell her as soon as I get home.”

“And you tell her that this time it was your fault, you sick freak!”

“Yes, I will,” I replied in tears. “Just don’t call her. I’ll tell her, I promise.”

Mrs. Hunter had no reason to doubt me as I had already confessed to having sex with her other son a few years earlier. As I rode my bike home in the cool fall air, it suddenly occurred to me that I didn’t need to tell my mother anything. I thought, what’s Mrs. Hunter going to say? “I caught my son sucking your son’s dick.” I didn’t think she would do that even though I almost wished she would. This was a very liberating moment. I’d been honest with my mother and hoped for understanding once before and as far as I was concerned she had ruined my life with her hysterical response. If I hadn’t been honest with her then, I wouldn’t be in this jam I was in now, so I resolved to keep this latest development to myself. Once again, I was riding off into the future feeling like the worst was behind me. I also resolved never to have sex with Michael Hunter again, but of course, I did.

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Recently described as “The greatest cabaret artist of (v’s) generation” by Hilton Als in the New Yorker, singer, songwriter, and Tony-nominated performer MX. JUSTIN VIVIAN BOND has been writing, starring in, and producing theatrical, cabaret, and art events internationally for over twenty years. V is an Obie, Bessie, and Ethyl Eichelberger Award winner, and in 2007 was nominated for a Tony award. As one half of the performance duo Kiki and Herb, Bond has toured the world, headlining at Carnegie Hall, the Sydney Opera House, and London’s Queen Elizabeth Hall, and starring in Kiki and Herb on Broadway. Other noteable endeavors include touring with avant-garde performance troupe the Big Art Group and appearing in John Cameron Mitchell’s feature film Shortbus. Bond recently a record, Dendrophile, and is writing a play with Sandra Bernhard.

One response to “Excerpt from Tango: My Childhood, Backwards and in High Heels

  1. Johnkoonse says:

    Nothing better than being 10 or 11 years old and sucking as many cocks as you can get in your mouth or taking them up your ass and just drink in the hell out of the come or used to have all the little boy all the boys in the neighborhood fuck me in the mouth and fuck me in my ass I wasn’t sucking cock I’d have my tongue up their ass hole

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