Almost 20, I had finally come to grips with what I was. Gay. That was not as accepted a few decades ago as it is now, nor was it as open, but I had surely no problem in finding partners back in the early 1970's. All I had to do was stand still for a minute.
*
Chapter One: Innocence Lost
What was so appealing about me back then? I was not overly handsome, but my fashionable-at-the-time long brown hair looked good on me. I had a trim and fit body, and after I stopped lifting weights, my 5'10" 175 pound frame was not imposing at all.
The thing that I did have going for me back then was my boyish, innocent look. I looked to be barely in my teens despite being old enough to vote and drink in my state, and it didn't take long for me to figure out that this was what made me attractive to many older men.
This look was accentuated by my stunted growth in all areas sexual. My body hair was virtually non-existent, and my genitals looked practically untouched by puberty either. While this lack of development was the source of a world of humiliation throughout my teenage years, I had come to grips with the fact that this was the way it was going to be.
I determined that it was a senseless waste of time to pout about having a tiny dick; not when there were others with real handicaps and obstacles they had to deal with. In the grand scope of things, a skinny 4" penis wasn't the end of the world. Besides, it worked as well or better than most men's.
After I had determined that there were a lot of guys who found me quite desirable, and their interest - or lust in many cases - became a turn-on for me as well. I began to play up my shy and innocent side, which wasn't all that tough to do. Basically, I really was shy, even if my innocence was a thing of the past.
Chapter Two: Pickup game.
I was at a basketball court which was part of a playground near where I lived, just shooting hoops to pass the time on a warm spring day, when I saw a middle-aged man approach me.
He was wearing a gray tank top and matching shorts, and when I acknowledged his presence he introduced himself and asked if he could join me.
"Sure," I said, shaking the hand that was offered. "My name's Tim."
"Nice to meet you Timmy," Adam said, and we began taking turns shooting.
That evolved into a one-on-one game, which started out friendly, but became more competitive as it went on. We were leaning and grinding into each other as we drove to the hoop and bumped as we fought for rebounds.
A good clean game with a lot of contact, and as we neared the 21 needed for one of us to win, I had finally determined something I had suspected. Adam was gay.
Nothing he did or said, but more of a general feeling that I had. Picking up on that was a trait that I had somehow acquired as of late, and I was rarely wrong. Maybe it was something about the way he looked at me and the way he leaned his body into me as he backed in to the hoop. Perhaps it was the way he didn't shy away from our profusely-sweating bodies making contact, but more or less trying to initiate it.
Either way, I didn't mind it, and did my best to make it easy for him. He had a lot of traits that I liked; he was about twice my age and was rather aggressive. He was about 6' tall and maybe 180 pounds, and he had a real hairy body as well. When I finally won the game with a reverse lay-up; a shot that Adam tried so desperately to stop that his efforts sent me skidding to the asphalt, my suspicions grew.
"Great shot, Timmy!" Adam said, reaching down and helping me to my feet. "Didn't mean that foul."
"No problem," I said, my only injury a slight scrape on my knee, which did not escape Adam's attention.
"Ow! That looks like it must sting," he noted, and although I told him it was fine, he insisted.
"Look, I live right over there," Adam said, pointing toward a house on the other side of the fence near the school. "Come home with me and I'll fix you up. You could go for a soda about now I'll bet. Unless you've got places to go - people to see.
"No, I don't have any plans."
Chapter Three: Adam's place.
Adam's house was a nice split level with a deck that looked out at the schoolyard. He brought me out onto the deck while he went back inside, and then returned with a little first aid kit.
"Sit down and let me get this scrape cleaned up," Adam said, directing me to a chair while he knelt in front of me.
I noticed a pair of binoculars sitting on the shelf of the gas grill, and that made me wonder whether he had been watching me with them. That thought turned me on in a strange way - being checked out like that.
"This doesn't look too bad," Adam said. "This might sting a little."
The scrape was nothing, and that was something I had already known, figuring correctly that it was an excuse to get me over to his place. I made a little sound as Adam applied the disinfectant to the abrasion, even though I hardly felt it, and he apologized while continuing the first aid.
He was doing the most through job of cleaning a scrape in the history of medicine, I thought to myself while watching him gingerly dab at my knee. He was holding my calf with his other hand, and I felt his fingers stroking the fine down on the inside of my calf, which was the extent of my leg hair.
I felt myself get hard from this subtle touching, and as I looked down at Adam, I took inventory of the guy who I figured to be making an effort to get in my pants pretty soon.
Probably in his 40's, I figured, and married too, judging by the pictures of a middle aged woman and young daughter that we had passed on the way outside. His hair was thinning on top, but he had plenty to spare on his upper torso, as all of the skin that his tank top exposed was covered with an abundance of dark brown hair.
"Probably better to leave it uncovered and let it get air," Adam suggested. "It might heal better that way."
I nodded in agreement, fidgeting as the man held onto my leg.
"Boy, no wonder you were out jumping me," Adam said, both of his hands now on my calf. "You've got really strong legs."
I tried to look nervous as Adam's hands kneaded the backs of my calves, and I saw that his eyes, first focused on my face for my reaction, were now occupied elsewhere. Specifically, at the crotch of my shorts, where the head of my dick was straining at the fabric of my shorts like a little tent pole.
I pretended to be embarrassed, bringing my hands down over the bulge to cover up the area a little, but not so much as to completely block Adam's view.
My modesty caused a tiny smile to form at the corners of Adam's mouth, and he proceeded to work my calf muscles with even more enthusiasm.
"Feel good?" he asked, trying to look through my hands for the answer.
"Uh - I guess."
"Too bad my wife is out of town," Adam mused. "After a workout like we just had, my body is really aching, and she gives the best massages in the world. You ever have a girl give you a massage, Timmy?"
"Uh - no."
"Or a man?" he asked, and I made my body spasm slightly after he spoke.
"Uh - what time is it?" I asked with a quivering voice.
"Early," Adam assured me. "You aren't afraid off me, are you Timmy?"
"No," I said. "It's just that..."
