As the clouds hung low over Aurora, I felt comfortable being with my friends of a lifetime, going to parties given by one, or going out with the buds I ran with on most weekends. It was fun. It was safe. It was familiar but it wasn't what I wanted to be doing.

The need had become an ache. Something beyond my previous experiences, beyond the familiar, was where I instinctively knew I needed to be. I'd gone with my friends to break the ice but I needed to go back downtown alone. This was not something I did right away, although it was something I began to think about after our first trip to town.

So, I gave an excuse why I couldn't attend the weekend event. I waited until Friday afternoon to put the word out to cover my absence. An early morning rugby match was always my best out. None of them played and they all knew I was dedicated to the game. With club games and leagues games, this was a story they couldn't check if someone was suspicious. Even the papers rarely covered anything but big tournaments.

Lying to escape into the unknown left me with no more than a twinge of guilt. I didn't set things up the way they were. I was a liar because someone else decided that's how it should be. I cared deeply about my friends. Risking the loss of even some of the respect they had for me wasn't a consideration.

All this intricate planning wasn't necessary. My friends didn't question my decisions. Not one of them offered to get up early to accompany me to a match. Rugby was a piece of my life that was separate from all other pieces and thus the perfect cover to keep my life in Aurora safe from scandal, and I hadn't done anything yet.

I said what I said to get what I needed. It was that simple to me. They had nothing to do with this part of me, but more and more that part's power over me was increasing.

I decided to go to town instead of staying safe in my suburban surroundings. I went straight to John's after work, telling him why I wouldn't make the party that night, leaving before he could ask any questions. John would pass the word.

I got home about six and showered, taking particular care with my dark pubic hair, my almost flaccid dick and balls. I used the washrag on my ass crack, running my fingers over the smooth rosebud hidden there. These were the areas I imagined most needed to be cleansed, after a hard days work.

This reminded me of boys I'd seen showering at school. A few of them took the same care with their prized package as I was taking with mine. Were they planning a trip to town? Maybe they were meeting a girlfriend or boyfriend after school and wanted to be sure of their cleanliness.

I wonder if they knew I watched their fastidious cleaning habits. It didn't escape me, they were giving all this attention to their dicks in front of a dozen other showering boys, who couldn't help but notice. Maybe my notice ran deeper, maybe not.

Taking their time showing off that which most guys kept hidden,seemed odd to me at the time. These were the bolder, stick-it-in-your-ear boys, who performed for all to see. Did they think of going to town to be appreciated, or was showering merely a highlight of their day?

There were the shy turn-away boys, that included most of the boys I knew at school. They came and went in a minute, giving no more than a glance at their stuff. Not that any of them had me dying to see what they had. No, my interest was more stimulated by the shower showoffs, taking what I could get in those days.

Nothing about them explained this peculiarity. Why not simply shower and go to the next class like everyone else? It crossed my mind they might be looking to see who took an interest.

I figured most of them weren't gay, but didn't doubt a few were baiting their hook, looking for someone to take the bait. There was no chance I would. I didn't find it sexual.

I was lucky not to look or act gay. How the hell do you sort out who is and who isn't without giving yourself away? Were they just washing up? Or was my mind merely furnishing available fuel for the lusty fire that burned within me.

This was a natural byproduct once I made up my mind to go to town. My mind was all over my more titillating memories. I dried my erection in a way that didn't increase the ache that had settled into it Wednesday, the day going into town came to mind and stayed this time.

I smiled because I was still getting hard over the same images over the years. Having new images, more lusty ones, was on my mind. Creating new images was my quest.

If I found what I was looking for I'd get the ache to go to town less often. Creating vivid images I was a participant in would give me more fuel for my evening masturbation sessions, which got me smiling.

I was careful to tuck myself into my tightest jeans without increasing the excitement. It wasn't a good idea to lose it before I got to town. That diminished the ache and my courage. Been there. Done that. Knew better than to do something that would end up keeping me home.

My fear was still greater than my need, but each time I went to town I became braver. When I walked the seedy side of town, my fear became less defined. This could be the night I made contact with someone who set me at ease about not doing things I had it in mind I wouldn't do, but that list had been shrinking.

There had to be a man who understood that I wasn't sure of how far I wanted to go and was willing to back away on only my say so. Maybe I could find someone who felt like me, wanting a sample, an entrée, without having the whole menu stuffed down my throat.

The turmoil would end if I could put to rest my troubling desires and return to being a quiet suburb teen. This was as much a dream as the ache. If I tried it and I didn't like it, I could forget about it. It was a way to make my feelings less threatening to the life I led. How bad did I need to find it?

Pulling on my tightest jeans and a Denver Bronco's T-shirt, making sure I could show the outline of my package if I decided to, then pulling the Bronco shirt out of my pants to get out of the house. I checked the mirror to make sure the cut of my somewhat muscular chest was apparent.

The mirror allowed me to adjust the three-year-old T-shirt to a body that had grown substantially since I bought it. Once I passed my eye-candy test, I accepted it as the best I could do with what I had. Checking the clock before heading for the exit, hoping not to meet my parents on the way but prepared to. I grabbed my light jacket and slipped out of the front door.

I had a picture in my mind of where I was going without having any specific information about where to find what I was looking for. I was sure I'd know it when I saw it and the best way to see it was to go amongst the sodomites, as my minister would say.

I'd gone with my friends enough times, when we drove past the adult clubs, bookstores, and many bars that made up Denver's red light district, I had a good idea of the layout. I'd taken note of places around this area that looked interesting.

I kept my eye out for flamboyant colors and men with exaggerated motions, thinking they were a clue to the type of men that might go to certain places. I hadn't thought about how I might act or the kind of persona I wanted to have. I was a man and I wanted to find other men. Beyond that there was a void of information in this decision.

I knew where I was going in general but there was not one specific destination that would give me what I wanted. I was too young to get into the bars where I suspected gay men that I might like went. Walking near those bars offered me an opportunity to see these men up close and for them to see me. I didn't give any thought to how I'd feel while doing it.

I did understand that I might run the first time a gay man stopped to talk to me. This fear was always in the back of my mind. Being afraid of the people you wanted to go with could be a drawback. I had to go. I had to be there and the rest I'd figure out once I was there.

For all my bravado and athletic ability the fear was never far away. I was scared shitless of gay men. I don't know why, which was probably why. I didn't know anything about what to do, what to say, or how to say it, and not look like a dork. I didn't want to climb into the first bed that was turned down for me, but I wasn't sure I wouldn't either.

That was another fear. Would I grab the first cock I could get my hand on? If I did, was I doomed to go with anyone who wanted me? I'd heard such things. Gay men were doomed to the sexual act without constraint. Once I broke the ice, would I be in a constant search for cock?

I didn't want to be like that. I could stay in Aurora and stand outside the best hotels to get picked up. I'd heard of boys who did that. Men away from home on business trips, looking for young studs to take their minds off their wives. The suggestion made me nauseous. I'd lived a lie for much of my life and getting involved in someone else's lying life didn't appeal to me.

My stomach churned and my crotch tightened as the excitement increased. Once I got close to the city my excitement heightened the ache in my pants. Would this be the night someone took it and drained me dry?

My desire almost got me in trouble a couple of times in school or with school friends when I got caught off guard. Being vigilant became more of an issue as I grew into the high school culture. One memory always got me going, when it seemed like I was close to getting what I wanted.

It was when I first went out for soccer. One day I got kicked in the thigh. This led to a charley-horse that ended my day early. The coach sent me to the shower.

"Let the hot water run on it until it loosens up."

I hung my towel at the entrance of the shower. There was a tall, thin, tan fellow at the far end of the shower practically lost in the steam the hot water sent up around him. He'd turned on all the showers near him and steam billowed up around him.

His build suggested he was a cross country runner. I wondered if he'd been told to hit the showers early? Those boys were usually out running over hill and dale long after soccer practice ended.

He took no note of me. I stepped in under a shower that was already running hot, and I turned down the steam, noticing his tight firm runner's ass. I let the warm water sooth my thigh, using my thumbs to ease the tightening.

The other showerer kept his back to me. His shinny white ass tightened and eased at a suggestive pace. He leaned forward, attending vigorously to something in front of him. Watching his arm hammering away on himself told me he was getting close, which had me hard as I memorized the way he moved.

I touched myself, wanting to join him, but seeing him doing it meant I was so close to losing it that as I moved two showers away from the magnificent jerker, I shot two thick powerful streams of cum in his direction.

My knees buckled as the powerful reaction shook me inside and out. My vision blurred, with everything going out of focus for the time it took to drain the lust I had for the very dedicated boy next to me.

His was an athletic enterprise. His legs spread further apart as he steadied his stance, jerking away. I could see the curly blond hairs that were no more than a tiny decoration for the puckered spot that became partially visible the more urgently he handled himself, causing the muscles in his back and legs tensed.

I'd added a little cold water to each shower, until I settled two showers away, not wanting to miss a thing. Should he turn around, he would have found me only more interested than before my discharge. It had only reduced the excitement slightly, so I could memorize everything about this fascinating act of self-gratification, which I knew I'd be using that night, and most nights thereafter to achieve the best result for my trouble.

Continuing the most provocative assault on himself, his wonderfully round ass tightened, eased, tightened. Standing closer had allowed me to hear some passionate grunts that accompanied the heavy breathing. A couple of distinctive shallow moans warned me of the pending orgasm.

Leaning to one side to get a better view, he seemed too busy to notice my by then. His ass cheeks tightened like a powerful vice. I admired his devotion to himself. Some guilty feelings washed over me. I decided I should leave him to finish his project without the embarrassment of him discovering he'd been discovered.

I'd been excited all day, recalling my favorite passion play as I drove to the city to heighten my desire. The park was well lit and my car would be safe. Putting on my Bronco's hat and wraparound shades, I was ready. I tucked my shirt into my pants so my tight jeans spoke for themselves.

Jogging across the street, I crossed the park, which led to the heart of the dark side of Denver. I became alert to the people there, remembering it's reputation as a meeting place for perverts.

I didn't have any idea what that meant, but it sounded serious when I first heard it as a ten year old. I knew the reputation of the park hadn't changed over the years, because of news stories about the police making arrests there after receiving complaints from other citizens.

Going into the park alone didn't bother me. I was big enough to take care of myself. I was looking for thrills, not a gross out. Not seeing anyone who looked weird, I kept on moving, being sure I could take care of myself.

I felt an uneasy stimulation surging inside me once I was well within the park's perimeter. The feeling of danger mixed strangely with my overheated desire and there was a prescient feeling of being watched, followed. The churning in my stomach increased as I became uneasy.

The men caught my interest as I walked. How'd they know who was looking for action? Why was the park the place these people came to? They didn't look like perverts. Maybe it was too early for that types person perhaps, or had the park changed?

I wasn't the only one who became more vigilant, once in the park. A man watched my approach, following me with his eyes. What was he looking for? I knew not to return glances or in anyway show an interest. Was he looking for a fight?

Being aware of where I was didn't keep my jeans from filling with my excitement. I stayed alert to passing men, until I was well past them. In spite of my caution, my heart pounded and my jeans hugged my crotch intimately, forcing it to a full throbbing erection.

I did my best to keep it from snaking down the inside of my jeans. Having a mind of its own, I was unable to get it to soften its prominence in my pants.

Why hadn't I worn underwear? I knew why. I wanted men to be able to locate it without difficulty if they wanted. Now they couldn't miss it and in a place like this. I didn't want to pull my shirt out in front of everyone. I'd sit somewhere and pull out my T-shirt before getting up to finish my journey.

I wasn't turning back now. I wanted men to see what I had, just not these men, not here. I had it in mind to be excited by the sights and sounds of the city in anticipation of being wanted and desired, just not here, not now.

Sliding down on the first bench I came to, I would wait it out. This wasn't the place to be parading around with a hard on poking out of my pants. I expectantly looked around to see if there were any cops around? Maybe they weren't in uniform?

A man coming from the opposite direction sat down on the other side of the bench from me. I immediately looked at him. He was looking out across the park. He was maybe a couple years older than me. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. He crossed his legs and leaned back, not noticing me. I relaxed. I was reluctant to pull my T-shirt out with him sitting there.

Shit!

"Nice night," he said, looking down the sidewalk past me as he spoke.

"Yeah, nice," I said anxiously.

"I go to school in town. Do you go in town?" he asked. "You don't look familiar."

"No, I live in Aurora," I said, biting my tongue.

"Oh, I've been out there. Big mall out by the Interstate."

"Yeah, I don't live far from there. My school is near there. Was. I graduated last year."

"Athlete. I mean in that shirt you can't miss your body. You must have played sports."

"I play rugby," I said.

"Yeah, that would explain the hard body," he said softly. "You want to go for a drink?"

"I can't get into a bar," I said, sensing he was okay.

"Oh, yeah. You graduated last year. We could go to my place. I have beer in the fridge. A little wine is all I keep on hand other than that."

"I was going into town," I said, as I noticed he'd turned and was facing me.

"That would explain the bulge," he said.

"I ah ... ," I said, pulling my shirt out.

"Oh, it didn't bother me. Nice to see a viral young man out to get himself some. The ladies must like you. I mean, you have a lot to offer."

"Oh, yeah," I said, ready to run but not able to simply get up and walk away.

We were sitting in a park talking about my dick.

"It tells me you're in serious need of a blowjob," he said,

I looked at him, being shocked by the suggestion. I was standing up before I could stop myself. The heat in my face told me it had gone red, as I pulled the T-shirt down further. Believe me, I had nothing that would go down as far as I pulled that shirt down.

"Look, I'm sorry. That was rude. I just couldn't help but notice. You're a good looking man and I like you. I'm sorry I said that."

"I ... I ... I've got to go," I stumbled over my words, unsure of what I was doing. I wasn't prepared for such a suggestion.

"Look, here's my card. My name is Jeff Helman. I don't live far. If you want to talk or just need to be around someone, I won't bother you if you don't want. I think you need a friend."

He talked fast and I took his card. There was something nice about him but what he'd said had been like he slapped me to consciousness.

I wasn't coming to the park in the first place. I was going to town, and I would go and not look back. Lifting up my T to slide the card into my almost inaccessible pocket. Once more he got a gander of my still stiff prick.

I was embarrassed all over again.

"I got to go. I mean I have somewhere I'm going. I'm ... my name is ... Chet," I finally said and neither of us thought it was my name.

I hadn't taken a breath since the word blowjob had gotten between us. I wasn't ready for that. I wasn't ready for him and I was walking in long strides as another man walked behind me, losing interest by the time I reached the far side of the park.

I ran across the street to put it behind me. I looked over my shoulder, but no one was going to keep up with me the way I was motoring along.

I didn't know what I expected but obviously that wasn't it. He had been rude. I had been scared. What was I scared of?


*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *
Consider This:

The "death to gays" law in Uganda might not alarm you, but consider this, The Family, a religious cult in DC, is advising the Uganda president, a cult member. Several United States senators live at the cult's "C Street House" in D C. Google C Street House to see what you can see. Google Uganda law against gays and you're in for a shock.

Senators chosen by God to be rich and powerful is a recipe for danger, not to mention their delusions of grandeur. When did God last talk with you? Me either.

You may want to educate yourself on our governments involvement in the hatred and death in Uganda directed at our brothers and sisters. Are our Senators behind it?

Rick Warren just returned from Uganda but claimed he doesn't involve himself in politics, when asked about the new anti-gay law. Can anyone say Prop 8?

In March the president of Uganda is scheduled to come to the United States to speak at a gathering of The Family. Is it a gathering we should miss? Or do you prefer to sit back and wait to see if they come for us one day? These people want power in the worst way. God help us all if they get it.

I got this story from OUT Q, Sirius Radio, gay voices talking to LGBT people and their allies. These facts aren't going to be discussed in the corporate media.

Peace,
Rick Beck


Send Rick an email at quillswritersrealm@yahoo.com

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