The Life and Times of Bruce Bramson


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With apologies to Keith Olbermann! He and Rachel Maddow are the freshest breaths of air to hit televised news in years! I’m sorry they have to share MSNBC facilities with that loathsome “Predator” series and the interminable, disgusting “Lock-up” crap, but at least they are ON THE AIR!

So far in this blog, I’ve described some of my life up to the age of 15, when I finally discovered what the thing between my legs could be used for besides taking a whiz. In today’s environment, especially in San Francisco, I can’t imagine a boy reaching the age of 15 without making this wonderful discovery much earlier. Indeed, polls at many of the blogs I read suggest that it’s fairly typical for boys to get their first blow-job around 12, by which time, one presumes, they had been jerking off for some time. [Now that the “Fondling Fathers” have been largely put out of business, this age-level may rise a bit]  {chuckle}.

But, it is fair to ask, how did I manage to get to 15 without even masturbating? Even after a cousin had been so kind as  to show me how!

Well, for one thing, my “hormone treatments” were late to arrive. I had my own bedroom always, so it was unusual to see even my brothers nude. I rarely saw my parents in the altogether either, and seeing any other people nude, in fact or photos, simply did not happen in those days. While I’m sure there was an underground trade in “smut”, it was never seen or discussed in my family. And remember, in those days, even Batman & Robin, always fully dressed, didn’t show a lot of basket, and genitals were routinely air-brushed out in most of the illustrations in the National Geographic! I do remember poring over the Monkey-Wards and Sears catalogues, looking at the underwear ads. Even there, though, “bumps” were not prominent, body hair was generally de-emphasized (on those guys and men who would have had any to start with), so there was really almost nothing salacious for a budding young queer to enjoy! I was not into sports or swimming, so even a classmate in a bathing-suit was a rare sight.

I remember being fascinated by a boy named Frankie in my Carmichael days: I was particularly attracted to his arms, which were finely shaped. He was many shades darker than me due to some mediterranean blood I suppose. I joined the Cub-Scouts, not because I had any interest in badges and all that stuff, but because the pack generally met at his house where his mom was den-mother. When it turned out all they ever did was play tag football on the huge expanse of lawn there, I lost interest in the scouts and retreated into my fantasies of touching Frankie’s lovely limbs. I still enjoy a well-shaped arm. It does not have to be particularly muscular; in fact, many of the photos I see nowadays are of guys whose arms are too muscular. My favorite pics are of naturally well-built fellows without the evidence of “pumping iron” so common nowadays.

There were lots of “pin-up girls”, but I was utterly uninterested in them: the belief that I ought to be interested led to a lot of grief!

Neither my own parents nor any others I knew were particularly demonstrative. Anything beyond a casual embrace was reserved for times when we kids were in bed! There were no TV shows for me to watch: Dad didn’t allow a TV into the house until good color-sets became common (late 1950’s).

Carl (he of horse fame) did show us (often) his dad’s collection of porno pictures, clearly obtained through underground sources. But these were straight porn, all in grainy black & white, and mostly in a tiny wallet-size format. Despite being dog-eared and grimy, they seemed to do it for Carl and his friends: they did nothing for me!

But the most telling feature that led to my remaining so innocent so late was my belief that I was some sort of one-off freak. In those days, “gay” meant light-hearted and charming; “queer” meant odd or strange; a “fairy” was something that took a tooth in the night. It would be years before I heard the word “homosexual” uttered by anyone, even though throughout most of my high-school years, the faculty and administration thought I WAS ONE!


I learned, years later, they all thought I was sucking every cock in the school. If they had only told me, I’d have obliged, willingly!

Even after my revelation in the gym, overhearing two boys discussing their alleged shooting prowess, I did not immediately realize my peers were probably doing and thinking the same sexual things I was because I was convinced they would all be thinking in terms of doing it with girls. Even when I kind-of figured out that guys might be relieving themselves just as I was soon doing daily, the idea of approaching any of them to do it with me remained beyond the pale. Much as I wanted to, I could not bring myself to proposition any of the guys I lusted after and dreamed about. Damn!

So, I blundered on, oblivious to what adults around me thought I was up to. I was a Junior in college before I learned there were, in fact, other guys with feelings similar to mine, willing to act on those impulses. I was in my 20’s before I got or gave a blow-job, but that’s for another page later on.

To be continued …



Written by Bruce

December 13th, 2009 at 11:10 am

Posted in Uncategorized