Introduction:
I am Patrick. This true story describes my first time with a guy back in the 1980s. I had, and still have, a thing for tough leather-wearing guys. And boy, that first time did not disappoint at all. It was rough and fairly nasty. As sex between classes in the men's room often is. 50 years on, I wish I had dared to follow up from there.

Disclaimer:
This story is semy fictional and contains male-on-male (gay) sexual content; both implied and explicit.

If this offends you, please do not continue.
If you are under 16 years of age, please exit this story now.

All character names, implied situations, parties, or locations are strictly fictional. Any similarities with real people are unintentional and purely coincidental. This fictional story is the author's imagination and is not based on real-life events or people. The author does not endorse any products or parties named in this story.
Copyright:
Any and all copyrights to this story remain strictly that of the author. No other publication, use, or reproduction of this story or parts of this story is allowed without the author's written consent.

The Geek and the Tough Guy.

Okay, this story is a bit outdated. Ha, just like me. 50 years on, I concluded I fucked up in my youth. If I only had been a bit more assertive and daring, my life would have turned out so much cooler. But this is how it all started back in the mid-80s for me.

Not a high-flyer like my neighborhood friends, I set my ambitions lower than theirs. I was already 19 when I began technical middle school in the Netherlands. I had my mind set on becoming an industrial electrician. My friends - who were all going to college - warned me, though. They did not think I could handle such a rough and rowdy school. You see, the stories that circled around told of the brutal and nasty people there. And I guess my childhood friends must have thought of me as a bit of a wimp.

I never had much luck with the ladies growing up. But I wasn't outgoing enough to try my fortune with the people I secretly loved to watch, either. In retrospect, I was probably gay already. Well, it was true that I didn't have the balls to try anything along those lines. Even if I had wanted to. I wish I could go back in time to tell my younger self what I know now. But I am no Harry Potter, so I can't. Or I would have given myself the body of a muscular Greek God and a 13-inch willy. Oh, well...

From a very young age, I imagined what it would be like to be a tough guy, though. Big and muscular, with a thick head of hair. And popular. Back then, that meant wearing cool boots or sneakers, a buff leather or denim jacket, and tight high-cut jeans. In short, everything I wasn't used to. No, I was what they considered in the 80s a bit of a plain limp-wristed, bespectacled nerd. Average height, sleek blond hair, a bum eye, and skinny. Not at all tough or sportive. Not that I was a virgin at 19. No, no, I got lucky occasionally. I just did not parade those lovely misses around as my neighborhood friends used to do. And our relationships never lasted very long either. I just preferred to keep myself to myself. Enjoying some anal toys, VHS tapes, and porn magazines. Keeping those toys and feelings well hidden from the rest of the friends and family, of course.

The first day of the new school year meant a significant change for me. For one, I had to bicycle 40 minutes to the new school, three towns away. And seeing I did not handle change all that well, I was nervous as heck. Not without reason.
That day, I parked my bike on the rack and walked across the schoolyard to the main entrance. Man, did I look out of place! All the men looked older than me. Or so it seemed. I felt like such a noob.

Even the first years dressed a lot cooler than me. I wore my plain blazer over a basic shirt. My simple cotton pants over polished black shoes. And my hairstyle was... Well, let's say it had not changed since I left primary school. I was glad I had the foresight to buy some titanium-rimmed glasses. I needed new ones for my new prescription anyway. Pretty cool compared to the old-fashioned horn-rimmed stuff my mother made me wear growing up. And looks are everything at 19.

No, the men standing around outside looked nothing like me. I felt like I ran into a gathering of bikers, punks, metalheads, and bullies. Smoking and fooling around with their mates outside. Bragging, joking, and smack-talking about the things they had done that summer. I swallowed, took a deep breath, and walked past the macho manly men into school. I dumped my books in the assigned locker and found my homeroom class on the second floor. The rest of the first years looked okay. They were anxiously waiting in the hallway. But our year also had a group of guys who had been held back a year or two. Geez, those men acted tough. Intimidating the shit out of the rest of us in the hallway. Acting as if they owned the place.

My eye got drawn to one of them in particular. He was clearly their leader and by far the oldest. Rick Horner looked like a rough-n-tough punk-rocker. And apart from his foul mouth and bully attitude, he looked the part. Horner sported a big wavy black-haired mullet. He was unshaven and wore a biker jacket with a black and white Palestine shawl. The bleached splattered, torn jeans over scuffed work boots completed the look. Horner wore his jacket inside as if it was winter. But the weather outside did not warrant this many clothes yet. Rick had a definite Italian, gypsy vibe about him.

Horner smirked nastily at me when he saw me admiring his cool outfit. Because cool was precisely what he wanted the rest of us to think of him. Or maybe it was my secret desire. All I knew was that he stirred something my dark blue pleated pants could not hide. Man, I had never gotten a hard-on just by looking at another guy. But he indeed did that to me. He was everything I wanted to be, but wasn't. I was glad our mentor let us inside the classroom. So I could hide myself in plain sight.

Predictably, Rick and his badass mates sat at the back of the class. Well, most of the class dived for the back. On the other hand, I sat at the first desk nearest the teacher. You see, my eyesight wasn't the best, even with the new glasses. It earned me a lot of nasty sneers from the rest of the class. Calling me a teacher's pet. So much so that the teacher, Mister Pool, asked me about it. Forcing me to publicly explain my choice of seating.

Damn, you could have fried an egg on my forehead. But I managed to get the words out. Back then, I seldomly stood up for myself. But I was glad I did. I told the entire class my story. Where I was from, my age, my ambition. Shit like that. And also explained why I needed to sit close to the blackboard to see correctly. The confidence I laid to bear inspired the rest of the class to also introduce themselves. It certainly earned me some browny-points with the teacher.

And the best part was I got to learn a bit more about the tough guys. Rick Horner was the last to tell us a bit about himself. He was 26 already. He and some of his friends lived a long way away. They had to take the bus every day to school. Although he also let slip that he owned and drove a motorcycle. That fit. He looked like a biker. And a very cool one to boot. Although he acted as the school's badass bully. He had a reputation to uphold. That much became quite clear. I thought I detected a sweeter side to him, though. Again, it probably was more wishful thinking on my part.

A few weeks later, the pecking order was set, and our class divided into three or four groups. The Sparkies, the Jocks, the Tough Guys, and the Electronica Geeks. I - and a few others - did not fit in with any of those groups. We just hung around with any of them. Or keeping ourselves to ourselves. The only thing I had in common with Rick was that we did not have to take gym classes. Apparently, Horner had an issue with one of his knees after a motorcycle crash. So he did not want to risk it. Or maybe he was just too cool. We usually spend those 'free' hours in the school cafeteria or in the schoolyard outside. Not that we spoke much. Horner was way out of my league. But he tolerated me, nevertheless.

On the day in question, I unexpectedly 'bumped' into the man. Horner was smoking in the men's room on the second floor. We had our next lesson on that floor later. And I had gone up early to take a quiet piss and to do some revision.
Earlier that blustery day, I had seen Rick arrive on his buff motorcycle. He was fully dressed in rugged leather. Tight leather jeans with lacing at the sides. Accentuating his muscular legs even more than usual. A dirty gray denim vest over a cool black leather jacket. The punk vest was covered entirely in lewd patches and metal studs. Rick also wore fingerless leather gloves with dangerous-looking studs over his knuckles. A pair of macho square-toe black scuffed motorcycle boots completed the mean look.

From the negative remarks Rick had to endure that morning, the other students found this outfit way over the top. Even for a badass bully like Horner. And that was saying something for our school. Because most men preferred a butch look. I think people just did not expect someone to wear leather jeans to school. Let alone a full leather biker punk outfit. Not that Rick gave a shit about what everyone else said or thought about him. I admired that in him. I liked the look and wished I had the balls to pull off something like that. But what would people say? What would my parents think if I came home in full leather? Horner's outfit had definitely scared me stiff again...

When I entered the bathroom, Rick was already taking a leak at the urinal. I gulped, placing myself far away from him, on the other side of the metal piss-trough. A quick sneaky glance to the side made me blush. Rick was free-handing it. That is to say, he had a joint in one hand while the other was propped up against the wall. His dick was smooth, apparently half-hard, and squirting like a racehorse. Is it me, or does a manly rod look extra good when framed in black leather? I certainly thought so back then!

I heaved myself out of my pants and tried to take a leak too. But I felt Rick's eyes on me. It made me self-conscious. Making it hard to get going. I could hear the asshole grin as he stood there watching me piss. When I finished, I chanced another side eye. The guy was jerking-off right then and there. Rick had even freed his hairy nuts from their leather prison. Cupping them with the hand holding the joint. He wasn't even wearing underwear! The other hand was lustfully pumping the foreskin up and down against the underside of the exposed thick dickhead.

Rick saw me looking and turned toward me. Pointing the raging hard-on squarely in my direction. Carefully watching my reaction to his lewd behavior. I could have left the bathroom right then and there. But I did not. I had an overwhelming lustful urge. As the tension between us grew, Rick took a determined step or two toward me. Still gruffly stroking his dick. He pulled deeply on his joint and blew a thick stream of smoke directly into my face. Still watching for my reaction. Feeling that Horner was testing my nerve, I did not dare to back away. All I did was stuff my own boy toy back in my slacks and grin naughtily at the horny man.

"Hey, Patrick... Like what you see?... Come here!..." Rick commanded.
"What?..." I asked stupidly.
"Come here and touch it... I know you want to..." replied Horner horsely. Flicking his joint in the bog.
"I... I..." I started to stutter, "... I can't... Anyone can walk in on us!..."
"Fuck that!... We got 20 minutes before the classes start on this floor... Get over here and help me stroke one out!..." ordered Rick. It certainly sounded nothing like a friendly request amongst schoolmates. The bully was pretty clear about that.

I hesitated and looked back to the door. But my own lust got the better of me. I wanted to touch Rick's cock. I needed to feel what that was like. It would be the first man-sized tree trunk I would have held. Not that it was the first dick I handled. But the others were years before, experimenting with neighborhood friends or cousins. And they certainly did not wear leather jeans or biker jackets like this rough mother fucker.

Rick grabbed my wrist and yanked my hand over his shaft. Forcing me to stroke him. I probably could have resisted and not closed my fingers around it, but I did not. I grabbed a hold and started to stroke it. I was still jerking it when Rick released his grip on my wrist. Man, he was so hot and hard. Pretty long too, but not very wide. A hand full, and then some. His thick bush of black curly pubes pricked against the side of my hand. And I noticed he was wearing a spiked leather cockstrap around his cock and balls. It fitted with the rough biker outfit he was wearing. I had seen images of guys in magazines wearing gear like that, but I never thought I would handle a cock sporting something like this myself.

I let my other hand wander over Rick's biker jacket sleeve. The texture of his leather gave me more goosebumps than the veiny cock in my other hand. The thick leather was tough yet supple to the touch. The feeling was coarse yet smooth at the same time. My eyes followed my hand. Not paying attention to the man I was fondling. Suddenly, Rick grasped a fist full of my sleek dark blond hair and yanked my head back. The man was taller than me and much bigger in the muscle department. So I stood no chance of getting out from under his grip. A little startled, I felt Rick's lips press to mine. He opened my mouth. Using his tongue as a crowbar.

As far as I remember, this was the first moment I considered kicking his nuts and making a break for it. It was all a bit much. I had French kissed plenty of girls before. But Rick definitely was the first guy that tried that with me. However, as soon as I let him inside, I calmed down considerably. He was a great kisser. Heck, I actually started to enjoy it. Rick began to make dirty slurping sounds as he nibbled on my lips. Breathing heavily and grinding his cock to my thigh. Using his free hand to grab and pinch my ass. Overwhelmed by the whole procedure, I was unable to think. I was holding a tough guy. A guy dressed in butch leather. Playing tonsil hockey with a geek in the boy's bathroom at school. What was I thinking? Well, I wasn't. I just let it happen.

And Rick made full use of my capitulation. After a few minutes of us eating face, he painfully grabbed my shoulder. The man forced me to my knees. Horner was mean and rough about it. I screamed in agony when my knees hit the tiled floor. My mistake! For his dick slammed forward into my mouth. Horner closed two hands behind my head and used his hips to fuck my mouth, ordering me, "... Suck it!... Take that cock... Make it nice and wet..."

I mumbled some feeble remonstrations. But more than, "... No... Don't... Anyone can see... Stop..." I could not utter. I had a mouth full of throbbing manhood. I loved it. Although, I made Rick think I was struggling to push him away. I was able to smell his leather pants and stroke his muscular legs. Even Rick's cock smelled like the leather cowhide. Fuck, I loved that too. Even more, than the hot rod pounding in the back of my mouth. I closed my lips and started to suck on the forceful cock.

"Yeah, bitch... That's it... You love that cock, don't you?..." Rick grunted nastily.
He wasn't wrong. I thought I died and gone to heaven. I was sucking a butch leather fucker in the men's room. His musky scent and the intoxicating aroma of his leather jeans drove me crazy. What was I doing? Anyone could walk in on us! But I kept going. I wanted more. This was my one chance to try it with a guy. Heck, I could always go back to girls if I didn't like it. I thought hornily.

Using my tongue to tickle the underside of the cockhead. I drove Rick to grunt dirty when I managed to swirl my tongue around the base of the glans. He loosened his grip on my head, and I grabbed his shaft. Sucking him off like many a girl had done to me.
"Oh, shit!... You really know what you're doing down there... I knew it!... Dirty little homo... If you do a good job, I'll cum for you!... I know that's what you faggots want... Don't you?..." muttered Horner.

His nasty words and tone of voice made my ears ring. But I wanted more. My hand started rotating and pumping around the base of his cockringed-shaft. While my lips took care of his rod end. Rick, apparently, liked this very much, for the grunting, heavy breathing, and dirty cursing increased tenfold. When my tongue arrived back at his bulbous tip, I let my tongue swirl around it. I wanted still more. I wanted to taste his cum.

"Yeah... Fucker... Blow me!... I am getting close!... Suck me deeper... I knew you liked this!... I've seen you looking at me, faggot!... Suck it... Fuck yeah... Service my big fat cock... You dirty little homo..." moaned Rick nastily.
I let out a derisive laugh but kept on sucking the brute.
"What?..." asked Rick startled.
I stopped sucking him off and looked up at him in anger. Yet my lust for leather dick prevented me from quitting. Allowing his cock back between my lips, I closed my mouth and continued sucking him off. Yet being called a homo, a faggot, or a bitch had stung me deeply.

Although, the significance of his cock pressing between my lips made me quickly forget my trepidations. The feeling was dense and heavy against my tongue. I thought I had plenty of room in my mouth. But his girthy and veiny cock filled me up completely. It became almost overwhelming as I leaned forward to take his dick deeper into my mouth. Horner's bulbous cockhead pressed hard on the back of my tongue. Trying to force its way into my throat. Was I ready for that?
"Hold on!..." I thought in horror, "... Don't allow him to rape you!... Stay in control here, Patrick!..."

Rick's heavy shapely cock felt so aggressive and powerful. Yet, the precum tasted sweet and salty. I even started to drool onto my chin. Adding to my rising level of horniness. I inhaled deeply before allowing the monster to enter into my throat. The intensity rapidly escalated. But - with watering eyes - I managed to take him deeper. Feeling his girth stretch my esophagus. I try to suppress the urge to gag. It hurt. He was so fucking big. As tears rolled down my cheeks, Horner pressed down even deeper.
"That's it!... Take that cock!... Fuck, yeah... Swallow my dick, boy..." bellowed Rick loudly. Making his words reverberate in the tiled bathroom.

That was the straw for me! I let him plop out of my mouth and looked up angrily at Horner again.
"What?... Don't stop now, bitch... Suck it... I said... Suck it!..." ordered Rick demandingly.
When I did not comply... *Smack*... The back of his left hand hit my left cheek. The asshole had dawned his spiked fingerless gloves without my knowledge. It hurt. It hurt a lot. With my eyes still wet from deepthroating the badass bully, Horner laughed meanly, "Awe... HA Ha ha... That will teach you!... Now... Suck it... Make me cum!... Or I'll take it out of your ass!..."

"Don't, man... Anyone can walk in on us!... Look, I like you, Rick... Well, I like your outfit... I wish I had the balls to get my own leathers... Even if it's only a leather jacket... But I am not the type, I think... I can't pull off that look..." I said, rubbing my stinging cheek. I got up off the floor. My knees creaked as I did so. I hadn't noticed the pain in my knees - caused by the dirty bathroom tiles - before. My unexpected imprisonment had not left much room for thoughts like that.

"You ARE a faggot!... Damn... Take this..." *Blahm*. Horner gut-punched me. "Well, step into my office!... You are going to service my leathered dick... Leather always makes me horny as fuck!... Ha... Sounds like we have that in common... You'll do, Patrick!... your virgin ass will do just fine..." blustered Horner.

Rick yanked open the door to the larger handicapped bathroom stall. He gruffly pushed me inside and locked the door behind us. The bully rammed me, face-first, against the back wall. Horner even aimed an unnecessary blow to the kidneys. Thinking that would make me submit to him. It only made me more angry and grunt in pain. With one hand, Horner kept me immobilized. Pressing it hard on the side of my head. Keeping my face to the cold tiled wall. The other hand, meanwhile, had reached around and was undoing my belt and zipper.

There I stood. A geek about to get penetrated by a nasty bully of a leathered man. I wondered fleetingly if I should scream bloody murder. Hoping for a rescue. But, no. That would not be good for either of us. Horner would surely lie. Telling everyone I was gay and had encouraged the sex.
On the other hand, Rick would undoubtedly get expelled or even arrested. No, that wasn't right, either. I shocked myself with these thoughts. Did I really want this? Was I actually gay? Gagging for cock?

So I murmured, "Okay... Okay... Calm down, man... No need for name-calling or rough-housing... You want to fuck me... I get it... But you're the one who's acting gay here!... You're the one forcing his dick down my throat!... Not the other way round!... One word out of me, and you're expelled, Horner!... So how about you gently wet my ass and softly slide it in... Let's see if my hole can help you get off... But wear a rubber, and use some lube!... I don't want to end up in hospital!... But any word to anyone and the deal is off!... Understand... FUCKER!..."

Stunned, Rick Horner removed the hand, pressing me to the wall. "Really?..."
"Look, asshole, we can do, or we can talk... The next lesson starts in 10 minutes... And I only allow it if you're gentile... You're right... This is my first time with the real thing... With a butch leather-wearing man, I would love to be myself..."
I grabbed hold of Rick's cock and balls and pulled him in closer. We kissed while I started jerking the horny Horner off again. Letting my free hand wander behind the dirty denim vest to stroke his chest over the leather jacket underneath.

"Damn... And you say you're not gay?..." smirked Rick nastily.
"Ha... Well, who knows?... But you seem to have a good idea of what you're doing yourself, homo!... So stop the name-calling... Raincoat on and slick me up... And for fuck sake... Go slow... No need to tear me up... Teach me how it's done, Rick-the-Dick!..."
Rick slapped my face again. But unlike last time, it did not hurt at all. In fact, I grabbed his wrist. I felt the flat metal studs of a wristband through the sleeve of his jacket. I slobbered my wet tongue over the palm of his gloved hand. Taking my time to suck on his index and middle finger, making them nice and wet.

While the fingers disappeared deep in my ass, I sighed hornily, "Shit... Is everything you wear today made of leather?..." I muttered, impressed.
"Nope... This condom is made of rubber... But we can take that off if you want to feel my own leather ripping you a new one..." smirked Horner nastily. He had deftly ripped the packet open and rolled it on with one hand. Stretching it tight over the shaft.
"No change, buster!... Besides, this is all a bit nasty... Just lube it up good and go..." I started to say. But Rick cut across me.
"Yeah... Yeah... I'll get it... I'll open you up nice and slow... Put your hand on the toilet and bend over..."

"What are you going to...?... Ooohhh... Fuck... Yeah, that feels SO fucking nice... Next time shave, though... Your stubble prickles..." I grunted in pleasure as I felt Horner lick my rosebutt.
"Any more demands?... Sir?..." chuckled Rick.
"Ha, Yeah, I have a few... For one... I am okay with the full leather punk look... But tone it down a bit... You scare even the tough guys... Lose the vest... And if you have any spare leather's... I'd like some... Or at least tell me where you got that cool jacket from... But for now... Lube up and try me on for size... Sir..."

"That... Fuck... Yeah... I'd like that... And just keep talking to me, Patrick... Tell me if it hurts too much..." moaned Horner sweetly. Raising himself up behind me. Squirting some lube over his prancing cock and spreading it with a couple of fingers. Those fingers disappeared into my waiting hole with ease. It did not hurt as I had anticipated it would. I only jumped because Horner was moving quickly and deliberately. Rick bent his knees to reposition himself. Pressing a hand on the small of my back to lower my ass to his preferred height.

"Patrick... Uhmmm... Do you want me to stick it in fast and get it over with?... Or do you want me to slowly... " asked Rick uncharacteristically gentile.
"Oh... Fuck... Stick it in already... We only have 5 minutes left... Besides, I got a dildo wider than yours... Just don't go down all the way... Let me get used to it first... HOLY HELL... Fuck that's... Hell, that's big!... Arghh... Oh... Man... Shit!... Slow down a sec, Horner... Let it sit there for a moment... Pffff... Ha... Not what I had expected!..." I breathed painfully.

"Nice tight ass man... Very fuckable... You okay, buddy?..." moaned Horner lustfully.
"Yeah... Hold on, though!... Let me slide back on it in my own tempo... Then you can do your thing..." I adjusted as best I could and pushed my ass to Rick's hips. I could feel the smooth leather of his jeans pressed up against my thighs as I slowly rotated my ass over his shaft.
"Fucking hell!... Nearly there... That's it... I am all the way inside you... You okay?..." asked Rick again as he heard me give a particularly painful grunt. "Not many guys take these 23 centimeters as well as you do... Nice one, man... Shit, you're ass looks so bloody hot on my cock, Patrick..." gasped Horner.

Slowly I pulled myself off. Leaving only his bulbous glans inside my puckered backdoor. I braised myself on the cistern and looked over my shoulder.
"Okay, fucker... Squirt some more lube on that thing and push it back in... SLOWLY, though!... I'll tell you when you can speed up a bit... This is about as much as I can handle, though... Sorry..." I muttered. Biting my lip in pain and naughty pleasure. Relieved that no one could walk in on us.

"Ha... Well, this was not what I had expected... Nice though... Brace yourself... Here goes nothing... Hmmm... Yeah!..."
"Shit, your so deep, Ricky..."
"Don't call me that, bitch!..." Horner smacked the back of my head in playful anger.
"Oh, shut up!... Just be glad I don't make you pay for a full leather outfit... Ride that ass... And blow up that balloon in there..."
"You just be grateful I don't yank it off and breed you!... Nasty boy!..." called Rick.

"Ha... do it nicely, and maybe next time I'll let you dress me up in leather and breed me a couple of rounds..." I said nastily.
"Next time?... Really?..." said Horner incredulously.
"Yeah... This is painful but in a nice way... I would not mind a repeat... Go on... Fuck that geek ass... Dump that load already..." I urged Rick.
"You want it?..." asked Rick Horner, "... okay... but it will get a lot rougher!..."

He wasn't kidding. Horner started pounding my ass like a jackrabbit on steroids. But I muttered, "... Go for it!... Fill that ass... Dump that load... Can't have you walking around with an itchy cock all day now, can we?... Bloody hell... Fuck I feel that thing throbbing..."
"Oh, man... Here it comes... I want to pull the rubber off and fill your ass..."
"We don't have time!... Next time... I promise..." I said. Hoping against hope there would be a next time.
"Oh... Shit... Arghh... I am cumming... Fuck... Yeah... Tight hot ass... Oh... Arghh... Pfff... Mmmm... Nice..." barked Horner as he unloaded his nut into the condom. Choking me half to death with gloved fingers around my throat.

The bell rang, and I pushed the exhausted man out of my ass. I yanked up my pants and adjusted my clothes as I grabbed my backpack off the bathroom floor. Checking myself in the cracked mirror. My face was a little blotchy and red. And my hair needed to be combed. But other than that, no one would know what just happened... And that was fine by me. Although, when I walked past Mister Pool, our homeroom and maths teacher, I heard him sniff the air around me. It made me sit at a table a few more rows back from his desk than usual. Did he know? Did he suspect something? Was I kidding myself and my guilty conscience?

I did not see the badass fucking bully that day. Nor the next couple of days. Even his mates had no clue why he had stopped coming to school.
Although, when he finally did return to school, the man completely ignored me. Horner had cleaned up his act, though. He got a haircut, and he shaved. Still wearing the buff leather jacket and the Palestine shawl. But the rest of his outfit was - for his style - very understated. Gray Camo work pants and plain polished shoes. The first guy that asked why he changed his look got a face full of fist. Earning him a brilliantly black eye. I raised my eyebrows in surprise when Rick walked past me after the very public attack. But no one dared to question his new look.

After one of our practical classes, we put our tools away. Horner's tool locker was near mine. I looked at him and gave him an appraising look.
"Yup... that's the look I could go for... Not so scary now... If only I had the courage to... Oh, well... Never mind me... Cool look, Sir..." What made me call him Sir, I don't know, but it made Rick grin knowingly. Mouthing under his breath, "... Homo!..." with a dirty smile.
"Ha..." I laughed softly, "... Look who's talking..."

Sadly that was the last thing I said to him. Rick Horner did not return after the Christmas holidays. Apparently, Rick had found a job. The job market in the middle of the 80s was very slow. So the only reason Horner stayed at school was to bide his time.
That day, when it was time to go home, I picked up my coat from the cloakroom as usual. However, someone had tampered with it. At first glance, nothing was wrong with it. Only when I put it on did I notice a few things left in the pockets that weren't mine.

And I had a good idea who left their stuff in my blazer jacket. It was Rick Horner. The fucker had endowed his fingerless gloves, his studded wrist band, and spiked cockring to me. As well as a personal letter. Grossly, it also held the torn rubber he had worn on our first and only encounter. The man had bred me, after all! In the letter, he apologized. And told me I had been the best thing that had ever happened to him at our Technical Middle School. He wished me well and told me to buy a full leather outfit with chaps and harness and to come look him up sometime.

Horner was right, of course. It was stupid not to do so. I never met up with him again. Our brief encounter instilled a bit more confidence in me, though. I stopped giving a shit what others thought of me or how I looked. During our last school year, we entered our work experience periods. Inturning at different companies to get more practical education. Working 4 days. And studying 1 day a week. By then, I had plucked up the courage to leave home and build my own life. Not that I dared to get an outfit like Rick Horner's. But I kept enjoying looking at the men who did.

Stupidly. Nowadays, I only wear my vintage biker jacket. Heck, If I feel like it - and the weather is right - I also wear my leather jeans to cruise down the glory hole arcades in Amsterdam. Anonymous gay sex in leather is great. Risky but great. The tough leather outfit really helps. Although the younger men all assume I am some kind of master. I never got the hang of that, though.
And I should have and could have done this much earlier. If only I had the balls to do so back then.

Enjoy your life... Whatever you are into. For me, it's a foul-mouthed dirty-talking ruffian, wearing a biker jacket and boots, that does the trick.

To each his own...

< The End >

Thank you for reading this story.
Please, give it a Like or a Comment if you are so inclined.
And if your hands are not too dirty from all the spunk! ;-)

by StrykerJ

Email: [email protected]