That First Time

by Grant

26 Nov 2017 9007 readers Score 9.0 (141 votes) PDF Mobi ePub Txt


The ribbon was cut, photographs taken, and food served for the new youth center. It had taken four years of fundraisers, marketing campaigns and long late-night board meetings but we finally had a permanent home. Drink in hand I moved around the room speaking to those I had not been able when the ceremonies and speeches were taking place.  Glancing across the room I saw Jack was in conversation with two of our biggest donors, so animated and naturally personal in the way he addressed people, made them feel important. I could never do what he is able with the fundraisers. For me it was the logistical side of things, the budgeting, planning, search for the new building and getting it renovated for the youth.

As I crossed the room I would speak to the young people in attendance, some of the latest to arrive at the center needing our help and support. It troubled me greatly that in 2017 parents would still kick children out for being gay. The stupidity of it, the sanctimonious callousness of it. It made me furious, something I struggled to conceal when I saw these kids here, reaching out for help. But I saw hope too, for I saw them supporting each other, and more importantly, I saw them act as teenagers, flirting with each other, holding hands, some dating openly. It was a step in the right direction and I wondered how much longer a place such as this would be necessary. Not long, I hoped.

It made me realize how it was for me, back in the late seventies, a closeted teenager in a small town. It seemed, in all my recollections, something that just was, the way things were back then. Many of my friends today, who are around my own age say much the same thing. I look at the young boys and girls, with their cell phones that enabled them to go online, chat on social media sites, go to sites where they could hook up, their intentions or desires plainly stated. At times I thought it not healthy, not a good way to meet someone, but I think back on what we did and realize it was in some ways probably worse, risky in the way we met others.  I passed a young boy, fifteen or sixteen years old I guessed, although I could no longer tell their ages when they were in these teen years, and he reminded me of myself at that age. Lean is what they say now, but we called it skinny back then and he had short hair, something my strict father made he have when all the other guys had hair over their ears and some down to their collars. I remembered those years, which was worst I’m not sure. Fourteen, the growth spurt, the pure lack of coordination from it all. And the knowledge I was different. Then fifteen and suddenly I’m really, truly aware of the differences between me and the other boys, especially those older; sophomores, juniors or seniors, all so much more mature to my eyes. I realized later how foolish I had been, how wrong about it all. Sixteen and I had my driver’s license, and a new sense of independence, although very limited with my curfew and watchful eyes of my mother and father. But their worry was for naught for I didn’t flirt with girls or ask them out. What I wanted seemed out of reach, unobtainable to some teenager who knew no one that was the same, had the same desires, the same longings. I drifted away from my friends as they began to date. I became a loner for it was safe, trouble free, without need of lying or pretending. Seventeen arrived and I began to look forward to graduating, the end in sight for this purgatory we called high school. I went through the motions of being a teenager, but never really participated.  

I turned eighteen in April of 1977, the eighth to be exact. It landed on a Friday and when I got home I saw my mother preparing a small party, grandparents and aunts and uncles with cousins my age or close, within a year or two, to arrive soon. I smiled, open presents with a portrayal of surprise and happiness and thanked each person for it. I wasn’t ungrateful, but something wasn’t right about it all, the comments about not having a girlfriend, of just being shy, and knowing I was just in character, the one everyone expected. When everyone finally left I went to my room, shut the door and listened to music the rest of the night, not even asking to go out to cruise around town like the others would be doing.

The remembrance of that night seemed like a turning point, a daring of myself to stop being afraid. It seemed to be the moment when my attitude was right for what happened next, the event that changed everything.

Saturday, 9 April 1977

I remember that morning distinctly, the way it was warmer than usual, the skies clear, an expanse of vivid blue that went forever. Dad was in the garage working on mom’s car, replacing the alternator or starter or whatever part that had failed. Mom was in her sewing room cutting small squares of fabric she would later sew together in some pattern. I spent the morning in my room, looking through my gifts. The two albums, one I really wanted and one I did not, a sci-fi book, new clothes and money, which I counted once again. Looking at the clock I saw it was eleven I had hit my limits to being inside all morning. Slipping on a pair of old jeans, worn soft by frequent wearing, I buttoned up the fly and tucked in the white muscle shirt I was wearing. I slipped my feet into the flip-flops sitting by the door and headed out. Mom and dad knew I was going into drive down to Pensacola, about an hour away, the closest city with a mall.

In my old 510, cruising along the two-lane roads, I made my way in a southwestern direction crossing the state line and driving through large tracts of pine, crossing one small river after the next till I came to the interstate using it to cross the bay and into the city.  Exited the interstate and pulled to the traffic signal directly across the street from one of the malls, the newest one in the city. Lunch in the food court then I strolled through the mall, stopping at the record store and the book store. Leaving the book store, I made my way back to where I had entered.  I’m not sure what drove me to rush through the mall, walking with my head down or quick looks into certain shops not really interested in anything I saw.  Back at my car I debated going to the other mall on this side of town but could think of nothing I wanted from its selection of shops. I knew where my ultimate destination was, the place I really wanted to go. The hobby shop, with its vast selection of scale models of cars, airplanes and military vehicles. The glass cases of assembled models, beautifully painted, some positioned on platforms of some landscape, and above, hanging from the ceiling were large scale models of planes and radio-controlled planes. They had a separate area devoted to trains, with a track running around the room high up on the wall, a scale train circling slowly around the room. The shop had been in a small storefront in an old business district near the military base where it catered to the guys coming through for training. But redevelopment pushed it out of this location and it now resided in the oldest mall in the city, one that was slowly dying, none of the anchors remained and most of the shops were the least desirable, the kind that moved in without changing the previous tenant’s décor selling junk called antiques, consignment shops selling clothes and costume jewelry, and two used book stores, one popular fiction and nonfiction and one a religious book store that catered to people’s fears and insecurities. The nicest stores were a sporting goods store and the hobby shop. The mall clung on, catering to the military personnel from the base, but it was obvious not nearly enough.

Even though it was a Saturday, the parking lot was only fractionally occupied. I parked near the south end, so I could walk its length as I made my way to the hobby shop. I wasn’t in a hurry, wanted to take my time, enjoying this day on my own. It was odd, the feeling that being at this mall most others had rejected seemed comforting, a refuge from the norm, what was expected, what was appropriate attire, the latest fad or gadget. As I crossed the parking lot I looked at the weeds growing up through the cracks, the faded striping and in front of me the building that had stains along the wall and evidence of signs long ago removed. To my right three guys got out of a taxi and headed to the entrance. Obvious military boys with their short haircuts, high and tight I think they called it, that their civilian clothing could not conceal.  I watched them, looked at their bodies, short and stocky, tall and lean and one average, height and build. I moved in behind them as we entered the mall looking at the way they filled out their tight jeans, impossibly tight around the hips and ass. I watched how their asses moved as they walked, the shift of one cheek then the other. I had followed them all the way to the sporting goods store before I realized what I was doing, how obvious it seemed to me I was actually following them. They took no notice of me, this kid coming in the store behind them, some high school kid, as I derided myself, not considering how I was eighteen and the three guys in front of me were probably eighteen or nineteen themselves, barely out of high school themselves.

At a rack of gym shorts, the legs short, barely below the crotch, I let my fingers graze the soft synthetic fabric as I looked at the sizes pretending to search for a small as I cut my eyes over to those three guys time and time again. I watched how they laughed and joked around, how they moved their heads to indicate a direction to go or make a judgement about some glove or bat or jersey. I wondered what they would look like naked, how developed their bodies were, how muscular. Did they have large nipples or small ones, how much body hair was on their torso, and how large was their cocks and what did they look like? I consider all of this, more boldly than before, admitting to myself how I longed to know these things. I knew I wasn’t the only one, not the only guy who felt attracted to other guys, but what I didn’t know was how you met someone else, how did you find someone who felt the same way. For the last few months all I could think was college would give me the answer. It would magically give me the opportunity, some chance not yet offered.

The taller guy jokingly pushed the shorter one back and I heard what he said. It was a joke to them, but it hurt, scared me even, for the implication was clear. The derogatory nature of the jab.

“What are ya, queer?”

I know I blushed, turned red, knowing I had been watching them, feeling an attraction toward them that was definitely queer. I headed toward the door back into the mall as the word played over and over in my head till another one took its place, more generic, technical, one that labeled someone just the same. One that I labeled myself, admitting the truth once again. Homosexual.

There were small groups of people shopping, coming in and out of the different shops and I strolled among them, looking at the other boys about my age, their bodies familiar in their lean builds, and the other military boys, their bodies more enticing. Maybe it was the way they wore their clothes, tighter jeans, some in t-shirts stretched tight across muscular chests or tank tops that revealed shoulders tan or sunburned from too much sun in this coastal city. I followed two of them into a gift shop, the kind with black light posters and lights, themed t-shirts and so much junk it was overwhelming. I roamed the narrow aisles pretending to look at one item or another as I watched the two guys. One was blonde and cute, but it was the black headed one that captured my attention. He was dark, angular, heart shaped face with a strong chin. I wondered if he was Spanish or Italian or Greek even, for he looked exotic to me and I struggled to avoid being caught staring at him.

“Hey Sebastian, check this out” the blonde said to him and I watched him moved to his friend looking at the poster being pointed out. The blonde suddenly looked my way catching me looking at them. l turned away and moved toward the door. Heart beating fast, my hands clammy, I left the gift shop and headed toward the hobby shop.  

By far the busiest store in the mall, and most of the customers were men and young guys like myself. The older men tended to be in the back looking at trains or at the counter for the radio-controlled planes. The younger guys were all through the store, looking at scale models, the trains and radio-controlled planes, and those that were military boys were obvious, those haircuts giving them away. I looked at the scale models of cars, searching for those that I found appealing all the while glancing around at other guys nearby. To my right was a guy I though was about my age, with long brown hair and a lanky lean body, the tank top he wore so loose fitting that when he leaned over to look at a model I could look at his chest and its small nipple suddenly revealed. I looked at his legs, with the sparse dark brown hair on each calf wondering how it would feel to slide my hand along them. I had to move, make myself stop looking at him before he or someone else noticed. Walking around to the next narrow aisle I found myself next to one of the military boys. I stood only a couple of feet apart it was obvious we were practically the same height. His t-shirt fit loosely, and his arms were lean, not that muscular and I glanced over comparing him to myself, how so similar in build we were. I could see no evidence of a beard, nothing along his chin or along his jaw or trailing down from his hairline in front of the ear.  A baby face, I thought, the same thing some said about me thinking it endearing but to me it had meant something else. Now that I was looking at the guy next to me I reconsidered the endearing nature of the term, the meaning of it, finding it appealing when I looked at him. He squatted down, shifting through boxes of model tanks on the bottom shelf and I could see the waistband of the white boxers he wore and a narrow portion of lower back exposed by the t-shirt pulling up, too short for his long torso. When he stood up he saw me looking at the box he was holding, a British tank from World War II and he held it out, so I could see the box.

“Crusader II” he said.

“W-w-what...”

“The tank, its British, called the Crusader II.”

“Oh; you like the British tanks?”

“I already have all the American tanks from the war and I’m working on the British tanks now.”

“Really.”

He laughed, good naturedly as he ran a finger over the box. “Really, for there is not much else to do keep ourselves occupied on the base. Well, have a good one” he added as he moved past me and to the counter to check out. I watched him pay and then leave wondering how I could be so different from these guys. I moved further down the aisle around the end and down the other side looking at the ships and boats, a series of models I had no real interest. But I looked at them anyway, all the different types and sizes, for in the aisle was another military guy apparently by himself. Standing near him running the fingers of my right hand over the boxes pretending to be shopping for one, I glanced over at his tall body, three or four inches taller than I and I watched him shift through the boxes of battleships, again World War II era like the previous guy. He wore a tank top revealing long lean arms and narrow shoulders, the collar bone prominent. I thought he had brown hair but when he moved his head just right the light revealed it to be dark red and I realized his skin had a red tone to it too with freckles over his shoulders and when he looked back to models between us I saw the freckles over his nose and cheeks. I boldly moved closer, only a foot or so between us and squatted down pretending to look at the models on the lower shelf, but actually looking over at the way his ass filled out the seat of his jeans and in front, the bulge that pushed the fly out, spread it enough I could see the buttons of the fly. I was holding my breath and had to remind myself to breathe.

“Can you hand me that USS North Carolina?”

He was talking to me, but I wasn't paying attention, my concentration focused on looking at him.

“Excuse me?”

That model just to the right of your hand, the battleship one.”

“Oh…sorry” realizing what he had requested. I slipped the long box from the shelf, stood up facing him holding it out. “This one?”

“Yeah, that’s it” he replied looking at me, smiling. I saw he had green eyes and when he smiled dimples formed in each cheek. His tank top hung loosely on his body, a short cut that barely reached those tight jeans.

“Hey, you from here?”

“Yeah…no…I mean I’m from north of here, not actually from here in Pensacola.”

“Oh, well, I was going to ask where were the best places to eat. I’m sick of the places on this side of town and everything else I know are those chain places over at the other malls.”

“There is a seafood place my family goes to on the east side of downtown, there on the main road.”

“The one near where I-110 ends?”

“Yes, that’s it.”

“I’ve heard its good, so I guess I’ll have to try it.”

I didn’t know what else to say, flustered to be standing so close to him, fearing my attraction toward him was evident. I looked down at the model and then back at the models on the shelf.

“You have a collection of battleships?”

“Not really, I was…just looking.”

“Yeah, I prefer the model cars but like to look to see what else they have.”

“What are…” he began to say but was interrupted by another guy.

“Hey Thomas, why didn’t you tell us you were coming to the mall?” a guy asked coming up behind Thomas followed by two others.

“Oh, I didn’t think you guys would be interested in this place” Thomas replied giving me a frown.

“You’re right we don’t but where else is there to kill time in this place?”

It seemed I was the odd man, the circumstances changed to where I was in the way, so I stepped back, turned and moved back to the front aisle where the model cars were located. I saw Thomas glance at me, nod his head and then followed the three guys back to the radio-controlled planes. I could hear one of them talk about how much fun one of the planes would be to have but another reminded him they had no place to store it and they were soon to ship out.

Reminded of the temporary nature of their stay in the city I wondered why it made them so enticing. Was it this temporary stay, the fact that if I could become bold enough to try something and if one were remotely interested, it would be a short-term thing that I could walk away from if I became afraid the old fears would reemerge.

Feeling like an opportunity was missed I left the store and walked on the far end of the mall where a couple of clothing stores were located, styles too severe, cheap in their make and I turned heading back to the south end. I moved slowly, wondering what to do next, maybe drive over to the beach or go downtown and walk along the few blocks that had any shops. Looking up I saw the three military guys who had interrupted Thomas and I come out of the hobby shop and walk south. They moved quickly, obviously a new destination in mind. Just before I got the hobby shop Thomas came out and headed south too. He was walking slowly, hands in his front pockets. I saw him look to the left then right as if window shopping as he continued onward, his pace not changing.

I followed him.

Keeping to the right side of the mall, weaving around the few others window shopping, while Thomas walked down the left. I matched his pace keeping behind him not sure why I was following, not sure what I hoped to accomplish. He passed a pet shop, fish in aquariums lined up in the window on one side of the entry and kittens in a caged area on the other and I saw him shake his head, a negative response to what he saw through the window. Just pass the pet shop was a side exit, a pair of double doors separated the mall from the corridor. Thomas turned and went through the doors making me wonder where he was going, why he was exiting at that location when you couldn’t come into the mall that way. I cut across the mall, past two elderly men sitting on benches in the center talking about the price of gas, and made my way to the double doors. There was a narrow window in each and as I approached to look through I saw the sign for the toilets on the wall.

I don’t know why I did it, what embolden me to go through those doors, but I slipped through, easing the door closed behind me and walked quietly down the corridor to the small side foyer to the two toilets. Men on the left and Women on the right. I felt my heart racing in my chest and I was taking short quick breathes as I eased the door open. It squeaked, and it seemed to be loudest thing in the world. I eased in, walked around the wing wall into the toilet where Thomas was at a lavatory, hands resting on the countertop, head down.  I froze, unable to move, scared at being caught following him but thrilled to see him.

“What’s your name?” Thomas asked, his voice low, echoing in the small tile room.

“Bobby” I finally managed to respond after a moment of hesitation.

“Bobby…” Thomas replied then looked up into the mirror, his eyes on me. “I’m Thomas.”

“I know…I heard…”

“Ryan call me back in the hobby shop.”

He turned on the water, held his hands under the flow then splashed his face.  Reaching over to the towel dispenser his fingers worked unsuccessfully, the dispenser empty. He stood up, turned and leaned back on the counter, hands resting on the countertop as water dripped from his face. He looked a way I could not describe, resolved to the situation, yielding, acquiescent, something I would understand when I was older. I took a few steps toward him till there was only a few feet between us.

“Do you even know why you’re following me? I saw you, you know, back in the mall, ever since I left the hobby shop. You followed me all the way down the mall till…well here we are.”

I couldn’t say it, dared not, so I stood silent, unable to look him in the eye, instead casting my eyes down to the floor.

“Scary, isn’t it, what brings us here. But…how…” said Thomas, his voice trailing off. He stood up and moved up close to me, right hand taking me by the chin lifting my head up to face him. “Have you done this before?”

I shook my head no, trembling with fear. He smiled as he raked his thumb over my cheek, gently, barely touching the skin. He leaned down to me and I closed my eyes suddenly pleading with him in my mind to kiss me. His lips touched my own, gently at first, then more insistent. Our kiss became urgent, open mouthed, at times tongues dueling. His hands came to my waist and pulled me to his body. His leg pressed against my crotch and I felt the confinement, aware of my manhood like never before as it strained to stretch out. I pressed back feeling the way the pressure made my cock flex and grow more erect.

“I’m sorry...we should be able to be somewhere else, somewhere better” as he took my hand and led me to the last stall. It was narrow, the toilet not as clean as it should be, but we squeezed in, closing the door and latching it. He pushed me to the wall pressing his body against mine as we kissed. His hands roamed up and down my sides then slipped underneath my muscle shirt, moved over my heaving stomach upward till he rubbed over my left nipple. Then he pinched it, giving it a bit of a twist and I moaned loudly, it echoing around the room as I pushed out with my body. He kissed my neck, tongued the skin, then nipped my earlobe as his hands lifted my shirt up. Pulling back, I let him remove it, tossing it on the tank of the toilet. His hands came back to my chest, caressing my skin, raking over my hard nipples making me moan. Those hands moved to my jeans, tugging the buttons loose, one at a time, till they fell open. I felt the way my cock suddenly was able to push outward, no longer trapped in my tight jeans, then I felt his hand take me, move along my hardening shaft. I pushed against his fist feeling my arousal grow.

“Oh…please” I grunted as he worked one hand behind the waistband of my briefs, fingers working through my pubic hair then touching me, fingers actually touching the smooth flesh of my hard cock. I felt them move along its length then rake over the sensitive head and I wrapped my arms around his neck hugging him as he manipulated me. He pushed my briefs down along with my jeans till they slid to my ankles. I felt the cool air on my nakedness, my cock out in the open, hard, aroused by another man.

Thomas squatted down in front of me, took me in hand, fist tight around the shaft. I opened my eyes and watched his tongue rake over the head and I shuddered with the touch. He pressed his lips to it then moved forward, my cock slipping through his lips and sinking into his warm wet mouth.  Hands on my hips he held me against the wall as he moved on my cock, sinking it deeply into his mouth. I was so aroused, so excited by everything that was happening, this first time with another guy touching me, manipulating me, working my cock I didn't last long. I felt the surge of my release, the way my cock grew thicker and harder, more sensitive, and I tried to push into his mouth.

"I'm going to..." I uttered through clinched teeth and filled Thomas' mouth, releasing wad after wad till I was spent.  I felt the suction of Thomas swallowing as I felt each flex of my spurting cock.  Looking down I watched Thomas come off my cock, hold the wet shaft in hand and lick the head clean making me shudder once again as I held on to his shoulders.

Thomas stood up and kissed me, tongue moving around my own, the taste of my own cum on it. I felt the softness of his clothed body against my nakedness. It felt daring, suddenly exciting, my cock still hard as I pushed it against him.  Reaching between us I fumbled with his jeans, my fingers working to pull the buttons loose.  I felt the release of each one, excited by the prospect of freeing Thomas. I moved frantically, clumsily, pushing those boxers and jeans down till I felt them loosen and fall away. It touched me, pressed against me next to my cock, Thomas' hard cock. I reached for it, wrapped my fingers around the thick hardness and Thomas pushed though them. 

I wanted it, more than anything, and I turned and faced the wall, hands flat on it and my forehead resting against it as I looked down at my own erection, wet, bobbing up and down.  Thomas pressed himself against my back, his cock nestled between my cheeks as he held my hands against the wall.

"Fuck me...fuck me, Thomas."

"Jesus, you hot fuck" he whispered in my ear and I felt him pull back and put his cock under my ass and pumped it between my thighs. It pushed against my balls, stroking my arousal beyond my fear.

The door opened, and someone came into the toilet. Thomas put one hand over my mouth and shushed me to be quiet. I listened to the person come into the room, somewhere over at the urinal. For an eternity it was quiet, but Thomas slowly moved his cock between my thighs as he reached around my waist taking me in hand. I wanted to moan, to cry out but closed my eyes begging the guy to hurry up and leave. The urinal flushed then water running at a lavatory. Thomas moved back and put his cock against me, pressed against my opening. The door squeaked open and as it closed Thomas pushed forward. I felt the pain of the penetration as I stretched open with Thomas breaching my tight opening.

I cried out as Thomas sank into my depths.  He reached up and held my hands against the wall again as he began to fuck, to pull back then drive back in. Slowly at first, he piston that cock in my hole. The fullness of each inward push made my own cock bob up and down, drool hanging from the head.

"Fuck, you're tight" said Thomas as his pace increased. He fucked harder, till hips smacked against my ass, noisily, the sound echoing in the room. I took each thrust feeling each one loosen me more and more, till Thomas thrust easily through my opening.  Head rocking against the wall, hands held tight to it, I took it, his fuck.

"Fuck me...fuck me" I uttered as I began to push back, to work my ass trying to get Thomas deeper into my body.  I rocked with our fuck, roughly against the wall. "Do it...do it" I pleaded, and Thomas kissed the back of my neck then lightly bit my shoulder as he shoved inward hard. He shuddered against me, hips jabbing his cock inward trying to get deeper and I knew he was coming.

Thomas pulled free and leaned against the stall door breathing hard, his chest glistening with sweat. I turned to face him, my cock so hard it ached.  I took myself in hand feeling my wetness, the slickness of it as I stroked it.  He watched me, eyes on my cock as I moved my hand along its length.

"Stop" Thomas commanded and I looked up seeing him move toward me. "Sit down" he added as he put a hand on my shoulder guiding me to sit on the toilet seat. My cock angled up hard between my thighs. He moved over me, his wet cock touching my chest then moving downward leaving a trail in its path. I watched him move down till he hovered over my cock. Reaching behind his back he held me up and dropped down to it. I felt the initial resistance, the push down on my cock, then the squeezing feel as my cock penetrated his hole. He kept moving downward till he had all of me, every inch.

"It's been too long" he whispered.

I put my hands on his waist and watched him move up and down, feeling the tight ring of his opening milk my cock. He moved steadily, increasing his pace, till he rocked us both. Up and down till his body seemed to glow red and sweat trickled down his torso. I felt the muscles in his thighs flex with his movement. My arousal grew, aching for release, and I began to push upward, to meet his downward move.  Feeling me pumping upward he held himself still over my lap, cock in his hole as I pumped my cock in it till the muscles in my stomach and legs burned with their exertion.

"Shoot it...come on Bobby, pump that shit in me" urged Thomas as he took every thrust.

Thomas reached down and pinched my nipples, both at the same time making me cry out, the pain mixed with pleasure and I arched my back shoving upward harder.

"Fuck...I'm coming" I uttered as I pumped my hips faster succumbing to this primitive need.  I pushed upward with every ejaculation. Thrust upward till spent and I kept pumping my cock till my load leaked out trickling down my shaft before finally falling still, exhausted, spent, and breathing hard.

Thomas sat down on my lap, cock still in his hole and kissed me.

"Thanks" whispered Thomas, his lips brushing against my own as he spoke.

We dressed quickly, and eased out of the toilet and walked back to the mall. Everything seemed different, my eyes scanning everything around me trying to determine why. I walked side by side with Thomas no longer feeling like a kid, nor weighed down with the sense of being different. I knew not to deceive myself, for this was not something to go to the next level. Thomas would be gone soon.

Outside we moved to the edge of the sidewalk stopping before stepping off onto the asphalt drive.

"Where are you parked?" asked Thomas as he looked across the parking lot.

"Over there, the yellow Datsun" I replied pointing at the 510 out to our left.

Thomas laughed and at first I thought he was making fun of my old car.

"I'm in the old Mustang in front of you."

As we crossed the parking lot he told me was shipping out in a little over three weeks, and wanted to know if I could come into town again. It was three weeks that passed too quickly but I was able to make it back each weekend. The next weekend had been awkward, the two of us riding around town in his Mustang till we ended up behind an abandoned warehouse. It was clumsy inside his car, frustratingly so till we sat next to each other laughing at the absurdity of it. The next two weekends Thomas got us a motel room, and this was the experience that showed me how two men could really please each other. Intimate, nothing to fear, no prying eyes.

But the real lesson from that experience was how to approach someone, to know the signals of interest.  And as I dated over the years I learned to be myself and for friends and family to slowly reveal myself to those who would not judge, but would be supportive.

 

Present Day

Most of the guest had left and only a few were still in the main room, groups of three or four huddled together talking. Many of the center's youth began the process of cleaning up, picking up cups and plates. Jack came over and sat on a sofa next to me. We watch the youth clean up, feeling the success of all our efforts, and the pleasure of this evening in celebration. Jack put his hand on my leg giving it the little squeeze that indicated he was pleased with the situation. Such a small gesture that meant so much between us.

"They'll be alright you know" said Jack as we watched two boys kiss quickly, laugh, then resume cleaning up.

by Grant

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