COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

      Copyright © 1969, 2007, 2012 by Victor J. Banis

      Published by Wildside Press LLC

      www.wildsidebooks.com

      DEDICATION

      I am deeply indebted to my friend, Heather, for all the help she has given me in getting these early works of mine reissued.

      And I am grateful as well to Rob Reginald, for all his assistance and support.

      FOREWORD

      Tijuana Bibles...cock stories...crotch readers.... By whatever appellation, these little gems are familiar to us all. What schoolboy has not traded them zealously with his classmates? What young man has not had them offered for sale as he made his way through the carnival, the amusement park, the county fair? They are a staple of the erotic arts, and particularly in this country, for, despite the south-of-the-border tag sometimes applied to them, they are truly Americana. They are an aspect and a result of our rigid Puritan tradition that outlaws our inherent sexuality and forces us to derive the greater portion of our pleasures from fantasies in lieu of reality. They reveal the American traditions of frustrated sexuality.

      How did they come to be called Tijuana Bibles? In part because, while they are written for and by Americans, they are frequently printed and “bound” south of the border. Second, because the very use of the name Tijuana designates erotica and sexuality ; the erotic arts are specific.

      Perhaps the most important reason lies in Tijuana’s location, little more than spitting distance from San Diego. And San Diego is filled with men. Beautiful young men. Beautiful young servicemen. Beautiful, young, horny servicemen. In short, San Diego represents probably the world’s largest market for material of this sort. And Tijuana, conveniently close across the border, provides a good place to have the material printed, etc.

      Now, a great many such stories are prepared in places like Kalamazoo and Omaha. And every border town can produce a heady supply. But El Paso just doesn’t have the numbers going for it that San Diego does. Nobody outside of the Pentagon can state exactly how many servicemen there are in San Diego, but it’s well up in the multi-thousands. These guys are young and horny. They’re a long way from their homes where, as often as not, stories such as these were a rarity and hard to come by (no pun intended). Most if not all of these guys end up sooner or later with a few of these readers in their possession.

      Something else San Diego has got—queens. The gay boys flock there by the thousands also, for reasons which should be apparent from the above paragraph. And they too like erotica. Also, they like to share their erotica (etc.) with some of the handsome, horny young servicemen. There’s lots of action in this town. It’s known as “heaven” for chicken queens, those lascivious hawks who swoop down upon young prey. As a result, the erotica of San Diego runs lavender to a degree unknown anywhere else. In New York—not exactly a straight city—the percentage of gay versus straight material would be maybe ten out of a hundred. Elsewhere, it would be even less. But in San Diego, it’s an easy fifty-fifty, maybe better. And if anybody still doubts a sexual revolution, let him contemplate on the fact that those figures are going up. Gay is in. And this is being reflected in erotica just as it is in major studio movies, best sellers, and cocktail party chatter.

      The Tijuana Bibles offer a fascinating glimpse into the American male’s sexual makeup. They mirror not only the changing times, as in the increase of homosexual acceptance, but virtually every form of sexual activity, and every attitude toward such behavior. Whatever aspect of sexuality one wishes to explore, it can be found here, as authentically presented and revealed as in any psychiatric case history. The fantasies through which man expresses his sexual longings are as telling as the “factual” accounts that he gives in the laboratory—perhaps more so. Here he utilizes the shield of anonymity, the freedom of literary exercise, the full strength of his imagination and the aid of erotic stimulation to demonstrate what he really feels, thinks, desires. Here are no cloaked meanings, no innuendoes, no carefully couched phrases designed to protect the ego. This is how it is, all the way inside, all guts and damn the general.

      Every man ought to be able to enjoy these stories. They were written for that purpose, and what they have to say is not much different from what any of us would say if we let go the ropes.

      Or, if you don’t want to read them to enjoy them, you can study them, with a serious and scholarly intent. You’ll get one hell of an education. Of course, you’d have gotten that anyway. But it seems a shame not to have both. And if you can’t—or won’t—enjoy them right along while you’re studying them...well, maybe you ought to pause and ask yourself “why?”

      That’s the last bonus, you see. You just might find that even if you didn’t like them, these little literary treasures provided a bit of therapy. They usually do. Sometimes it’s that a guy lets off his steam reading them, and doesn’t have the urge to go out afterward and molest anyone. And sometimes it’s that he finally gets rid of a hang-up or two. And sometimes...well, like the guy who couldn’t enjoy them a couple of paragraphs back; they kind of make him take a look at himself for a change.

      And even that ain’t bad.

      —Victor J. Banis

      CHAPTER ONE

      ACT I, ACT II, ACT III

      The structure of the erotic short story is always constant. The emphasis is placed upon action, and long descriptive passages or lengthy dialogue never finds a comfortable place in the basic outline of the story. The writing varies tremendously, from a few degrees above illiteracy to the greatest of writing talents.

      In this, the first of the stories to be presented in this volume, the basic premise of the story is one which repeatedly creeps back into the erotic short story...virginity. The teaching or introduction of a willing pupil to the arts of sex is very often found in all forms of erotica. There is a certain fascination about exploring virgin territory, so to speak. Every human being living today takes delight in being the first at one thing or another; being a virgin’s (male or female) first partner is especially rewarding to the average individual.

      This is the story of Phil, a young sailor of nineteen who is introduced into the twilight world of homosexuality. He finds himself to be an apt and willing student, and after mastering his lessons, he in turn becomes an experienced instructor.

      ACT I

      It had begun many years before. At first Phil had feared the hot-blooded giant and the strength that rose so unexpectedly between his legs to tantalize and plague him. But as time went by, he found the fascinating pleasure of this sturdy symbol of his increasing manhood. As his solid young body matured, he discovered the growing power of his masculinity, and more important, he discovered other young men only too willing to relieve these pressures that surged within him.

      Phil was nineteen and had been in the Navy for almost a year. Gone were the days of high school track and swimming meets, gone the fumbling activities in the dark corners of the gym, gone the uncertainty of adolescence. Blond-haired, brown-eyed, slim but solidly muscled, Phil was ready to leave the innocence of youth for experience-trained manhood.

      The hungry giant within him had been unsatisfied for many days when Jack suggested a moonlight swim at a secluded beach. Phil knew how Jack would relieve the long-contained desire—as he had once before—and he accepted the invitation.

      The scene was set. The voice came willingly. The teacher was ready....

      * * * *

      “Just like I said—nice and private, huh?” Jack was twenty-two or twenty-three and solidly proportioned. His hair was curly and dark, and his features were strong and mature. His white sailor’s jacket clung to his powerful shoulders and narrowed slightly at his waist, and his trousers bound tightly to his solid legs, forming a heavy bulge at his crotch. “I told you I knew a good place.”

      “Yeah, it looks pretty good.” Phil’s face was cleanly handsome, reflecting a mixture of youthful innocence and masculine maturity, and his body was trimly built.