A gay man learns a great deal more about his recently deceased grandfather (and himself) when he and his partner discovers the old man's secret vintage porn stash.

Nail Ups - Page 1
by Dixon

Everybody knows about those pinup girls back in the 1950’s. Every red-blooded heterosexual guy could hang up some calendar of a blond in some erotic pose without any questions. Before Playboy, Penthouse, or Hustler, and way before porn videos or easily accessed internet porn, pin ups were everyman’s fantasy fodder. Those calendars and posters were real collector items.

I didn’t know until a couple years ago, when grandpa died, that there were some pretty racy – no, downright X-rated male pinups and calendars back in that same day. Trying to track the source of the batch of Grandpa’s nude black and white photos educated me about a range of vintage gay porn.

I decided Grandpa’s stash should be dubbed ‘Nail Ups’ ‘cause his boy toys weren’t in erotic poses, but were bound and restrained, their photos nailed up in his secret closet.

I quickly learned the photos I discovered were early BDSM fare. I say discovered ‘cause they weren’t just nailed up there in plain sight, visible to anyone who wandered in to stoke some hay or get a mule. They were in a kind of secret section of the barn, behind the wall where grandpa hung his ropes and reins.

It was after grandpa’s funeral when I was getting away from the house where everyone felt like they had to be all sad and grieving. Hell, grandpa lived to be 94, active up until the very end, so I was kind of happy he hadn’t fallen into poor health and suffered. I had a thousand memories of the old coot, but like most of the family, I didn’t really know him at all.

Anyway, I wandered out to the barn to get away from the rest of the family – just me and one old horse grazing on some hay. I saw the rope hanging there on the short wall, and went to pull it down to see if I could still throw a lasso, and the wall moved.Yep, I said it moved.

It wasn’t some spooky thing. It was a door – the door into grandpa’s closet. I say closet because it wasn’t a very big little secret corner – probably no more than 6 X 8. There was an old chair propped back against the wall, and a little shelf, with a couple old rags.

Then, there across the full wall were these Nail Ups. They were mostly 8X10 old grayscale photos of naked men. Some of them wore western gear, making me think Gramps might have thought of them as rustlers, being punished for trying to steal cattle. Years ago there were some stories about Gramps organizing some of his neighbors to ride range after one farmer had four cows disappear. They were an unofficial posse, on the lookout for two strangers who had been seen on horseback.

I figured a couple of the Nail Ups made a little sense back in that day, reflecting how the posse might have handled those suspected rustler if they had caught them. One dude was sporting leather chaps, strung up by his boots, his hands and arms bound beneath him. He wasn’t naked, but was likely to get a good lashing.

Another photo had a young cowboy stripped buck naked with only his boots and cowboy hat, with a glimpse of a kerchief, possibly gagging him for calling out for help. He was on his knees, his arms stretched out to the sides, his wrists bound to keep him restrained in that position.

It was a kind of erotic pose, his head bent forward, gazing down at his exposed junk. I wondered if Gramps would have stripped the captured rustlers, taking their clothing away to discourage them from attempting to escape, or if he and other members of his posse couldn’t resist sexually abusing their prisoners.

In my shock, I plopped down in the old chair, where I saw how grandpa could look up at his Nail Ups and jerk off to his heart’s content. My grandpa! He was literally in the closet, not just that little hidden room in the barn, but in the family and probably the community. Hell, nobody came out loud and proud in his day, so I kind of understood. I just wondered how he kept his closet a secret all those years without someone else stumbling onto it like I did.

Aunt Myrtle told me something later that day when she heard I had been out to the barn. She said grandpa would have had a ‘hissy fit’ if he were alive, ‘cause he never let anyone in the barn without him. It was his cathedral, she said.

So all those Nail Ups were his congregants! I bet he went out to his cathedral for a good spell every Sunday morning, while the women were at church. Sunday was his only day of rest as a farmer, and sometimes not even Sunday.

As I checked out each one of those men I realized why there were rags laying around. Oh yeah, grandpa got his rocks off gawking at naked men, fantasizing about restraining them and possibly sexually abusing them. Oh fuck, I was getting aroused myself. Was I channel-ing Grandpa’s secret fetish, or were his Nail Ups tapping one of my own?

Of course I wondered where grandpa got these Nail Ups from. When I got back to the city and did some research on the web, I found a bunch of vintage and retro gay sites that featured conquest themes from AMG – the American Models Guild. AMG sold movies of young gay men in a range of simple plots – captured soldiers, cops abusing prisoners, bullying, and naked wrestling – their catalogue showing a lot of sexual abuse scenes.

I guessed he sent his money order and then waited by the mail box every day until the porn arrived in some plain brown envelope. You can bet he didn’t take any chances of someone else bringing in the mail and asking questions. (Grandma was pretty nosey.)

I started recreating his secret life, his hooking up with some neighboring farm boy, the two of them fucking away in some thicket of woods. Or maybe rolling in the hay in one of those sheds that dotted the farm. Yeah, there were plenty of places two men could meet up.

Gramps was definitely the top. I couldn’t for the life of me imagine him being mounted doggy style – but then I realized I had never thought of him as sexual in any way.

Yeah, he had five kids, his three sons working the farm until they ventured off to the city for other careers. My dad put himself through college and started his own hardware store. Uncle Martin was a mechanic, and Uncle Bernard worked at a farmer’s market and later owned a grocery store. All three of them married and had kids, all seemingly normal heterosexual males.

It would be a couple years before I’d dare to talk with my dad about grandpa’s closet. As I expected, he was shocked and had no clue about his father’s secret. He later said that must have been why he never gave him a lecture when I came out. (Why would he, I thought, when dad and his brothers said Gramps never said a word to them about sex when they were growing up.)

He brought up the war, saying Gramps never talked about serving overseas. But he remembered when the Army was dealing with gays in the military, Gramps made a trip to Oklahoma City for the only reunion dad ever knew about with a couple guys he had served with in Germany. Dad specifically asked what the guys thought about Don’t Ask / Don’t Tell, and Gramps just stared him down like he was crazy.

Meanwhile, my partner Charlie and I had gotten hooked on vintage gay porn. I kept all the nail ups I found in grandpa’s closet, partly to keep his secret and partly – well, I guess to follow in his tradition.

I slipped one of the Nail Ups in the drawer of my nightstand – one of a cowboy trussed up to a post, stripped with his chest punched out all vulnerable from the tight censure of rope. It weirdly reminded me of Charlie, giving me a boner imagining him at my mercy.

The man was no submissive, apparently resigned to having been restrained, not struggling, but gazing out a whomever had overpowered him, awaiting their intentions. Whenever Charlie is off on some business trip out of town, I pull the photo out and fantasize about pinching and biting his nipples, getting them as erect as his cock, edging him into practically begging me to fuck him.

Sometimes I’m surprised at the rush I get from thoughts of owning him, sometimes tortur-ing him with fondling, licking and kissing his flesh, sometimes going sadistic, gagging him to silence his complaints or protests, tying off his balls to engorge his dick in a raging rod. Of course, I always get off way before I nail the Nail Up, returning to the reality that I’d probably never act out my bondage fantasies with the real Charlie.

Charlie had his favorite of Gramp’s rustler Nail Ups taped inside the door of his armoire. The cowboy was fully clothed, but was bound with his legs flayed out wide, his ass curled up with a fearful look on his face. We agreed it was one of the most erotic photos, leaving little doubt those jeans were going to be ripped away for a posse gang bang. Clearly, Grandpa’s Nail Ups had gotten under our skin.

When Charlie asked if that bound cowboy resembled me when I was that age, suggesting that might have made it one of Grandpa’s favorites. Besides wondering why the cowboy made Charlie think of me, and if he fantasized getting me tied up in that position, I assured him I hadn’t been around Gramps much when I was a lanky teenager, and that I certainly didn’t think he ever saw me as a sex object. Of course, I wondered more how I would have handled it if he had taken me down to the barn.



  1. darkmusingsofahornyoldfag - May 13, 2022, 8:18 am

    What a cool concept for a story!

  2. scotts60143 - June 1, 2022, 12:00 pm

    Enjoyed! I am old enough to remember coming across some of these old pics years ago and at the time boy was that HOT!!! By today’s standards probably pretty tame. Enjoying the story as well as an interesting idea to find out “grandpa” had another side to him!!

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