Edward's Hookup with an Angel or Demon

This story happened to my roommate Edward, the art appraiser I lived with in the East Village.  When I knew him, from 1998 to 2001, he was in his late 50s and early 60s, tall, husky, tanned, white-haired, slightly feminine, and eccentric.

But back in 1958, he was Eddie, a 18-year old high school boy growing up in Houghton, on the isolated Upper Peninsula of Michigan.  Not aware that he was gay yet -- not even aware that same-sex desire existed.

But he knew that he was different: he was in the drama club and the musicale, he loved painting and sculpture, and he especially loved looking at the semi-naked men in muscle magazines like Physique Pictorial.

He tried to get intimate with girls, twice.  The spirit was willing, but the flesh was weak.

When he graduated from high school, his father insisted that he join the military Maybe the all-male environment would make a man out of him.

He was fluent in German -- his parents fled Nazi-occupied Austria when he was four years old -- so he was stationed at an air force base near Kaiserslautern, West Germany, and given a job as a translator.

One evening his friends talked him into walking to a popular tavern on Kindsbacher Street, where they would meet some hübsche Mädchen.  He was less than enthusiastic about the prospect of Mädchen, hübsche or not, so after about an hour, he wandered off into the night.

He was not drunk -- I repeat, not drunk.

He started walking north and west, until he was on a country road, now the L363, on the way to Steinwenden.  Open fields broken by an occasional groves of trees.  There were no streetlights, but it was a clear night, with a very bright full moon.

Suddenly a shape burst up from a new field and flew across the night sky.  It swooped down so close that Edward instinctively threw himself to the ground and rolled into a ditch.

A bomb?  No.  A bird?  Maybe -- but enormous -- he estimated the wing span at ten feet.

A condor?  A hawk?  How big did hawks get in Germany?

It swooped down again, this time more slowly, its wings fanning the air.  It hovered over his prostrate body.

It was a human!  A man, about 5'5" tall, Caucasian, hairless, very muscular. His wings were like eagle wings, with feathers. They were vibrating but not flapping -- apparently he didn't need them to fly.

"How did you see such detail in the dark?"  I asked.

"The moon was very bright. But still, I couldn't see everything.  I couldn't make out a facial expression."

Edward tried to scream in terror, but no sound came out of his mouth.  The winged man hovered only a few feet over him.  His gigantic penis -- easily 10" soft -- hung down.  It was uncircumcized.

"You could tell that it wasn't circumcized, in the dark?"


Lower, lower.  Edward tried to scramble out of the way, but he couldn't move.  The fanning wings -- had they paralyzed him?  He had just seen The Horror of Dracula (1958) with Christopher Lane.  Was this a vampire, getting ready to feed?

Lower, lower. The winged man had beautifully sculpted muscles and a Kovbasa+++++.   Edward was terrified, but also aroused.  He unzipped, pushed down his pants, and displayed his own erect penis.  It was big by human standards -- all the guys at the base admired it -- but tiny compared to the winged man's.

"Wait...you said you couldn't move!"

"Who's telling this story, me or you?"

Lower, lower.  They were only inches apart.  Edward still couldn't make out a face, but he felt the winged man's penis, now erect, a rod of iron, brushing  against his legs, then pushing against him, between his thighs.  He thrust over and over and over, wordless, savage.

Edward tried to scream.  The pressure was tremendous.  But he was also elated, hot with passion for the muscles, for the penis.  He wished he could move his hands to hold the winged man, draw him close.

The winged man shuddered with an explosive orgasm.

Then, without a sound, he flew off.

Edward lay there, drenched, waiting to see if he would return.  After awhile, he finished off himself, cleaned up, and walked home.

He returned to the spot where he saw the winged man many times over the years, most recently in 1990.  But he never saw it again.

He kept the handkerchief that he used to clean himself off with, a memento of the moment he realized that he was gay.

"Wow, quite a dream!"

"It wasn't a dream.  I was wide awake.  I remember every moment."

My friend raises his glass in a toast.  "You win!  That's the best coming out story I've ever heard!"

It certainly beats my coming out over John Travolta in Grease.

"Next I'll tell you about me and the Romanian vampire-hunter...."

See also: The Football Player Who Got Unstuck In Time.