He was rude to me when I first saw him, which is one of the reasons I remembered him. The other was that he was drop-dead gorgeous.
This was in the souk (Arab market) in the Muslim Quarter of the Old City, one dull Saturday morning, and I was shopping for a Quran. Not some paperback English translation, but something really nice, an ornate Arabic copy I could display in my office at home.
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"Why don't you and Clancy go fishing," my dad said.
The five of us, Uncle Ted, Aunt Bessie, Clancy, dad and me were finishing our afternoon tea in the farmhouse kitchen after unloading the fourth load of hay for the day. The new corrugated iron shed was a quarter full of hay and that was all there was room for. The rest was taken up with the farm machinery. The few horses dad still kept were in the old split log barn, which had seen better days.
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I always hated stereotypes. At least, that was my excuse for resenting anyone who assumed I was gay. A guy can be fabulous and into clothes and still be attracted to the opposite sex. And I have been attracted to girls as far back as I can remember--that's no bullshit. Girls love a guy they can go shopping with. "Metrosexual" was what they called me, and I was fine with that mantle. It meant they recognized my good taste, refined appearance, superior grooming, and upscale tastes. It was when people called me "gay" that I got frustrated. I'm not gay. Properly, I'm bi.
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It was one of those hot and steamy tropical summers in this southern paradise that I call home. I am a heterosexual male that spends a lot of time at the gym keeping my body in shape. So that I can track the progress of my workouts, I shave my entire body, which allows me to see the definition of all of the muscles of my body. At first shaving my chest, legs and genital area was a little weird, but now I feel uncomfortable if I let any hair grow back.
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"The first time you do it is the best," Greg said. "My first time, I just looked at it, this guy's cock. I just knew I had to do it. I always had that curiosity. I wanted it in my mouth. I wanted to know what it was like...."
We were sitting on the couch. My couch, my house. Home alone. Our wives were out for the evening.
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Danny was killing time at the one and only shopping mall in his little town, as he did most Saturdays afternoons, when he noticed the blonde muffin. He felt the familiar ache in his groin, in his heart and in his brain as his eyes drank in the stranger's beauty.
This guy was born to induce lust; he was the kind of man that always got Danny's pulse racing: big-boned, blonde and beefy with down-home looks on an open, honest face.
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Plattsburgh, New York, in the summer of 1970...
It had been a rough couple of months for Dustin Wood, and his life seemed to fall apart in every way imaginable. First, his mother passed away in the spring, and with her gone, Dustin's father seemed to change into someone unrecognizable, drinking heavily and taking all of his frustration out on his only son.
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My wife was fairly discerning when it came to other men she wanted to have sex with. But I knew there was one guy she was crazy about. He was a dancer at an all male revue. She had once admitted to me that she would have had sex with him at her bachelorette party, just a couple of weeks before our wedding, if she had had a chance and her friends wouldn't have judged her. Every time she described her feelings about him and his body while we were in bed, we had earth moving sex.
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The last thing I expected to see when I got home was my girlfriend naked on our bed, her legs spread wide, her own tits in her hands and her fingers pinching her nipples. The most surprising part of it, though, was that face down in her crotch was a guy that wasn't me.
He was eating her madly, his hands under her ass, holding her to him.
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My first semester in college I was worried about what kind of roommate I might have like most people on their first time away from home. I spent 3 nights by myself in the two man room before my roommate, Shane, finally showed up. It came out later after we got to know each other that he was worried as well and was spending the nights at a frat brother's room before he got enough nerve to show up. We had become good friends by then and had a good laugh about it.
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