38 again, but left it be. The mere thought of holding the damn thing was too much. I’d been cured of guns during a run-in with my father’s 20 gaug... shotgun when I was fifteen. But that’s another story for another time.”Brookpark, Ohio. 1970. Another time.Saturday afternoon.I was watching TV in my bedroom. I saw rapid movement in the hallway outside my door. The old man had flashed by and into my parent’s bedroom. The old man never moved fast. Ever.“Uh, oh.”The night before I’d gotten the old. I stayed my killing hand. I turned my thoughts to homosexual images of buff, bulging men muscles, glittering in tan, surreal Apollo rooms, while I shut myself in my college dormroom. That night, that first night, I let it all loose. I tendered my small member to the image of a Blonde god, a 14 pack man in a gym, the first release of heroin-like ecstasy in the wee hours of the night, looking strangely at my crotch, observing glistening streams of semen falling in rivulets down my leg. Many girls. They weren’t touchy-feely by any means but every time they got a moment alone, it always ended like this: with Brett propped against something, still partly clothed, and with Zach clutching him firmly by his sides, getting lost in the rhythm of going in and out of this pert, tight ass. Ever since their first time, he never forgot to sneak a condom into his wallet of a pocket. He would never miss a chance. A chance occured in a locker room when everyone promptly left. It was Friday after all,. “I’ll stand guard to be sure you’re not disturbed.”I was very nervous. I knew that I had to sit to pee but was now scared that my fittings wouldn’t do their job and I’d wet myself. Imagine the glee that would cause. I needn’t have worried. Soon, I was seated with my knickers at my knees and liquid tinkling from between my legs into the pan. This flow suddenly stopped when a cacophony of noise built up outside the cubicle door. Were the girls waiting for me? Could they see me? All irrational.
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