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Bars always were dark on the outside, in some kind of way, so people couldn’t see in. It was a very special thing to go to a bar. People who are younger may not remember what it was like to go to a gay bar in the 60s. In this particular area here, it was kind of liberating to be myself. Every type of gay person that existed in the city, at one night could really be found there. But everyone knew that Greenwich Village was where we hung out. Our life was kind of isolated and secret. And I think these people are a fit subject for a mental health program. They’re advocating that we tolerate the problem. And these people are really advocating that we don’t solve the problem. And if we discover homosexuals in our department, we discharge them. The policy of the department is that we do not employ homosexuals knowingly. Well, I understand that we’re being picketed by a group of homosexuals. We were thrown into a general category of people who needed to be cleaned up out of New York City.
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And some therapists said, well, if you get married, it’ll go away. We were the lowest of the scum of the Earth at that time. Well, the 1960s, it was a city sport to attack gay people. It was a place where the community felt comfortable and safe, because we were all among ourselves. In Greenwich Village, here in New York City, Christopher Park and Sheridan Square, and the area around the Stonewall Inn, is a place where the LGBT community gathered to celebrate our victories, to mourn our losses. communities have gathered there to express their joy, their anger, their pain and their power. Not a particularly hard-core story, but a story none the less.Transcript Stonewall: The Making of a Monument Ever since the 1969 riots on the streets outside New York City’s Stonewall Inn, L.G.B.T.Q. Joke about it from time to time, but nothing has happened since. The ‘lubey’ sensation made me cum instantly. When he was reaching for his tissues, I scraped some of his cum from my thigh and smeared it over the head of my cock. Since I was sat next to him, I was hit a couple of times with a few spurts that landed on my leg and arm. I had seen him soft and even then it was big.Īnyway, long story short, he finished before me and seemed to have absolutely no control of where it all landed. He had a really big cock, in fact, it was quite famous amongst the girls at school. I was always pretty curious about touching another guy’s dick so I asked if I could wank him for a bit (which, to my absolute surprise, he agreed too).
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I remember thinking it was funny to try and sync our hands to match our wanking rhythm. Anyway, fast forward, we found ourselves sat right next to each other, wanking. I was also feeling a little restricted by the duvet so I rolled it down and released my own cock. I had to hold back from jumping over and sucking on it. That was the first time I’d ever seen an erect penis in real life and god did it get me going. He casually stood up, cock in hand and sat at the end of my bed, legs stretched, and continued wanking. More time goes on and I’m honestly getting off to the sound of him wanking more than Babestation.īeing cramped at the foot of my bed, it wasn’t long before he said that he was too squashed and needed to stretch his legs to be able to cum. Hiding his cock, he moved to the floor at the end of my bed out of view. My friend had been doing the same and before long he jumped out of his bed, saying he needed to wank, but without me seeing. By this point, I had my pants down and was jacking off, still under the duvet. The night goes on, we flick between channels and land on a full-frontal channel. I could clearly see he was doing the same. I was feeling horny and was rubbing myself under my duvet.
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Skip the boring bits, we were both in separate beds, sipping on beers and watching good old Babestation, on his TV in his room. This one particular night, we had been allowed a couple of beers with dinner (which had gone straight to my head). We would have sleepovers fairly regularly since neither of us had girlfriends and we would end up gaming until late, so we often figured we may as well stay. When I was 16, I was sleeping over at my best friend’s house.