Gordon Dewey was celebrating his 19th birthday alone, like he often did, but this was different. He was new in the city, having just moved to Troy to attend college, and had found out that he was no better at making friend here than he had been back home.
At close to six foot tall, Gordon was only slightly plump that fall of 1972, having shed about 40 pounds over the last year or so, but he was still incredibly self-conscious about his body which was a bit pear-shaped and was still a bit doughy.
His acne had cleared up considerably, and he had lost much of his stuttering habit which stemmed from nerves, so while he was clearly no Rock Hudson he was a far cry from where was a few years earlier. Nobody realized that more than his mother who reluctantly sent him off to school a couple of months earlier.
"You're looking so handsome," Mom had gushed. "Just you wait Gordon. The girls in Troy are going to notice you!"
They didn't, of course, but Gordon wasn't interested in them either, at least not the way Mom was thinking. Mom wouldn't understand if he told her, so he kept his desires to himself, and since he had very few experiences with his own gender either it wasn't tough to stay in the closet.
So Gordon was spending his 19th birthday sitting in an old man's bar in South Troy, The South End Tavern, which was so ancient that outside they had a sign over one door indicating a "Ladies Entrance". Gordon went there because the beer was cheap and was on the bus line so he could get back to campus easily.
There had been a different bartender on that night, which meant that Gordon had to show his proof since he had a bit of a baby face despite being of legal age. The bartender noticed that it was his birthday and gave him a Schaefer draft on the house, which saved him a quarter.
Then a man sitting kitty-corner to him at the bar overheard the conversation and bought him another one and even played "Happy Birthday" on the old jukebox in his honor.
"Name's Henry Wallace," the man said as he extended his hand, and although the man looked vaguely familiar to Gordon in reality most of the guys who went there were like this man was, around 50 or so and dressed like they worked all day and this Mr. Wallace was no exception.
Unlike other times and other men, this man struck up a conversation with Gordon, and while the student usually avoided such things he found himself chatting with the man. Gordon learned that Henry was divorced and worked for the city in the public works department, an most of all didn't like being called Mr. Wallace.
"Henry," Mr. Wallace corrected Gordon once again. "The mister makes me feel even older and I'm old enough as it is."
Henry also liked the Mets, although he said he longed for the days of the Albany Senators, a minor league team that played in the nearby city and had folded many years ago, and although Gordon had never heard of them he enjoyed listening to the man rattling off the team's players and statistics like it was yesterday.
"Sounds like it was fun back then," Gordon said, and as he looked at the slight man with the horn-rimmed glasses he mused that the man was probably about his father's age.
Gordon didn't know that for sure, since the old man had taken off when he was young, leaving his mother and him alone to fend for themselves, and Gordon lamented that this stranger wasn't his father. Being taken to ball games and doing guy stuff with his father would have been fun.
"Gotta go," Gordon said, needing to get rid of the four short drafts he had consumed, but also because he was getting a bit choked up thinking about what could have been.
The men's room was a nasty place, the absence of decor and pungent scent seeming to be designed for not hanging around, but Gordon enjoyed reading the graffiti over the long urinal along the wall as he went.
Gordon made sure his fat stub was clear of his pants, not wanting to wet himself like he sometimes did, and after beginning the flow the lad looked up to see if anything was added since the last time he was here.
NEED JERK-OFF BUDDY CALL TOM was the most prominently written note on the faded paint, and Gordon had seen that particular one so often he almost had the phone number memorized, wondering whether this Tom was a real guy or just somebody whose name and number ended up on the wall courtesy of a co-worker or something. Gordon had been tempted to call more than once.
Gordon was so lost in his reading that he hadn't noticed somebody had joined him in the men's room, and while in many ways the student liked the company because it gave him a chance to see a cock other than his own, this time he hadn't managed to shield the view of his own equipment first.
"Boy, if they painted this wall we wouldn't have anything to read," the short man beside Gordon said, and it was only the voice that made Gordon's eyes go up from the long brown penis that hung unsupported in front of its owner.
"Uh - yeah," Gordon said, hoping that Mr. Wallace hadn't seen him staring like that, and after quickly finishing peeing the student went to the sink and splashed water on his hands, drying them quickly before leaving the smelly room.
It wasn't my fault. That was what Gordon was thinking as he went back to his stool at the far end of the bar. Guys stand there and let it hang out - you can't help but look.
The looking had become a habit however, a kind of habit that was harmless, except for that one time back home when a man who apparently didn't like getting looked at took exception and almost put him through the wall of that men's room in the park.
Henry Wallace came out of the bathroom a minute later, and as he walked though the bar Gordon avoided eye contact although he glanced at the crotch of the old guy's green work pants before concentrating on his Schaefer.
Henry started chatting about something that was on the TV news like nothing had happened, and Gordon was relieved although when he looked over at the man he realized that he would never be able to look at the guy again without thinking about his cock, if past history was any judge.
Must be nice walking around with that swinging between your legs, Gordon mused as he pondered how much different his life would be if he hadn't been so shortchanged in that area. He would stand there and let people look at his cock all they wanted - hell - he might not even wear pants!
"Think I've had enough," Gordon said, because while he wasn't drunk he was getting a little goofy, and as he started to get up his new acquaintance asked him whether he was off to another bar or maybe to a friend's house to continue the party.
"No," Gordon said as he sprinkled some change for a tip on the bar. "Not much for that sort of thing."
"It was nice meeting you, and glad I could celebrate your birthday with you," Henry said, extending his hand and as Gordon shook it he wondered if the guy would be so friendly if he knew that he would probably go home and jerk off to the memory of seeing his cock back in the bathroom.
"Thank you for the beer Mister - I mean Henry," Gordon said, and the boy thanked the bartender too but he was at the far end of the bar waiting on somebody else so he left the place and walked down to the bus stop, hoping that he hadn't just missed one because it was a brisk fall night and they ran infrequently after dark.
The breeze that was kicking up didn't help any, so Gordon stepped behind the building at the bus stop to provide some shelter, and as he did he saw someone approaching him from behind. Probably a panhandler, Gordon figured, because despite his pudginess being a big guy he rarely got bothered by troublemakers.
"There you are Gordon," his friend from the bar said as he came up to him. "I was hoping that I could catch you."
"Oh, Hi Mr. Wallace," Gordon said, wining when he remembered he preferred Henry. "You take the bus too?"
"I do sometimes but I live just down around the corner," the slight man said as he ducked behind the shelter of the wall with Gordon. "I was afraid you were going to drive."
"No, and besides the bus works for me after a few, Henry."
