Translated by JUMIMA
Original German text
“I had my first sex with a man when I was twelve. At school we had whispered to each other that there are men who do it with boys and boys who do it with men. At the time, I didn’t know what exactly that meant. At some point on the football field, a man smiled at me and I immediately thought: He definitely wants to do it with me. I should be right.
I followed his hint and we went into a nearby shrubbery that was quite thick. We did it to each other, then he whispered a goodbye and disappeared. At first I was a little disappointed that nothing else had happened, but afterwards I thought: That was actually quite nice. Above all, I thought: Now you can finally have a say when the others talk about men and boys.
When I was thirteen I heard from older boys that you can make money with sex. The thought irritated me. I kept looking until I found a man at the train station who actually wanted to go home after work. He followed my hint, we went into the station toilet, and afterwards he gave me a little money. It wasn’t really much, but I had earned my first own money.
From that point on, I regularly hustled. I mean, I never actually stayed in certain places in the city and waited for men, but instead I picked them up wherever I was. When I look at photos of myself from that time, I have to say that I was really beautiful. It was really no wonder that the men fancied me.
I had real relationships with some men, long-lasting relationships. I am still friends with two of them today and we meet occasionally. Most of the time it’s me who calls and invites them for coffee or beer, simply because I want to chat with them or when I need help. One of the two, I’m going to call him ‘Rolf’, also took a lot of photos of me when I was 14 or 15. Then he gave me the photos a few years later. They are a real show for me, because I would no longer know what I looked like at the time and how I had changed physically during puberty. I was satisfied with my erotic qualities; I was proud that I was almost a man sexually. I especially wanted to be photographed when I had an erection. I felt really grown up. When I look at the pictures today, I can well understand what the men saw in me.
I don’t know if I would have had so many sexual contacts if my family hadn’t really needed the money back then. My father had lost his job as a truck driver because he had been drinking. Maybe he would have gotten money from the employment office, but he was too ashamed to apply for it. He kept hanging around at home all day, annoying my mother, who already had enough work with the children. At that time, two of my siblings were still at home, an older and a younger brother. My oldest brother was already married and had his own apartment, which was more like a shack, because when it rained, the water ran down the walls. Thus ghe baby of my brother and his was often sick. The social welfare that the two received was not enough in the front and not in the back. From time to time I was able to give them some money. They knew how I had earned it but they said nothing.
I believe that my teacher also knew or at least suspected what I was doing in my spare time. Sometimes I skipped classes when a client only had time in the morning. But I had a great relationship with my teacher. He often said to me: ‘Simon, I’m not worried about you. You will make your way.’ If he could see me today, as a respected father of three, working his job and often working overtime because he wants his children to be better off – he would surely smile and see his trust from back then confirmed. He also never went to the child care office to report our family situation.
At one time, we did catch the attention of the child care office. An elderly neighbor had probably been curious enough to take interest in our affairs. During school hours she had not see me leave the house until eleven o’clock and had alarmed the child care office. A social worker came by and took a close look at our apartment. I don’t think he liked it.
Used coffee cups were still on the table, laundry was soaked in the sink because the dishes from my mother’s birthday party were in the bathtub, and the beds in the bedroom weren’t made either. That seemed to be the worst thing for him. I assume he suspected real orgies in our apartment. He only liked one thing at all, and that was me. When I noticed it, I took him to my room on an excuse, told him my price and said if he wanted me he should come back as a private person and not as a social worker. He never came back to us and the child care office left us alone from then on.
My parents didn’t get to know my adult friends and clients. It was only many years later, when I was married in my mid-to late twenties, that I met Rolf in a pub in the presence of my family. I introduced Rolf and told my parents that he had been my favorite client and friend of that time. Rolf, who is really not a child of sadness, blushed like a tomato and was embarassed. I comforted him and said that everyone should know what he had done for me in difficult times. I had every reason to be grateful to him.
Once I had taken him to my oldest brother’s shack. When he entered the apartment, his jaw dropped. My sister-in-law brewed coffee on the single hotplate, and the baby diapers were soaked in the sink. The apartment did not have a bathroom. It rained that day, the water trickled down the walls, and the baby had a cold and kept crying. Rolf was so shocked that he turned to the local newspaper to describe the situation. The report in the newspaper brought my brother a new, larger apartment, dry and with a bathroom.
When I had finished school (I actually released myself), Rolf helped me find an apprenticeship. He even managed to put me on a TV show about unemployed teenagers where I could play the poor boy. I received three job offers already during the broadcast; I accepted one of them. A girl of the same age who lived in the same city had also spoken on the show. After the television appearance, Rolf drove home with both of us; During the trip I had great sex with the girl in the back seat of Rolf’s car.
My puberty was really an adventurous time. The other long-time friend, with whom I often meet (I call him ‘Richard’ here), had a pub. I could always stay with him when there was quarrel at home and I couldn’t stand it. My father was still drinking and keeping our family in suspense. I was sorry for my mother, but I often fled to Richard to have my calm. My slightly older brother had moved out in the meantime, but I had constant arguments with my little brother – he was eleven years old at the time. Maybe I acted a bit like a surrogate father because I was the main earner of the family. Brothers do not readily accept that, especially since the little one was not allowed to know what I did to feed the family. I only got along with the little one when he was 15. He had grown to be a pretty boy and I wanted Rolf to have him as his new friend because I was getting too old.
Rolf just said: ‘Simon, I think your little brother is very nice; but please let him decide for himself whether he would like to have a grown-up friend.’ I was a little annoyed by this attitude, but maybe it was just jealousy because I almost freaked out when I once saw Rolf with another boy on the street. It was an uppity snoop and you could tell he was attending high school. Should such my Rolf have lost his heart to such a guy? It was better if he got my brother.
Through my agency, Richard and Rolf also met. To my great surprise, they weren’t jealous of each other at all and got along fine straight away. Richard also received some wonderful photos from Rolf, in which I am loitering pretty erotically. Occasionally, when I sit in the pub with Richard, over a beer, I call Rolf and ask if he wants to come over. A few times he spontaneously got into the car and came to the pub.
I no longer have any contact with the other men of my puberty. I also have no longing for it. It was a part of my life that has ended. My family is much better today than it was then; my father hardly drinks after the withdrawal treatment, the apartment has been renovated, the children are out of the house, and my parents receive a small pension from my father’s work. Meanwhile. my little brother also found a grown friend and moved in with him. My wife knows Richard and Rolf. She knows they are two of my best friends. But she doesn’t know how I got to know them. For example, when she’s sitting in the pub with us, I don’t talk to Rolf about the old days. And I don’t give him a smacking kiss across the table in front of everyone, like I did when my parents were drinking one with us. Gosh, Rolf was embarrassed. The other guests in the pub hadn’t noticed it at all. But when my wife is with me, I don’t do that. The friendships with Rolf and Richard are part of my life. I love my wife, but this part of my life belongs to me."