So I finally muster-up enough courage to drive to butt-boy park. That's the nickname of a local park that is infamous for after-dark gay hookups.
I parallel park near a walking path that goes down a hill near the pond and the restrooms. I shut off the car but for some reason I stay inside. My brain is experiencing some internal conflict.
John, you're not queer, why are you here? Drive away before someone sees you. You don't belong here! Then, my alter ego tells me, "Get down there, what are you waiting for? You've been dreaming about this for months, hell, you've been fantasizing about guys dicks for over a year. Walk around the path, go into the men's room. Just think how good it will feel to finally have a hard dick in your hand, or better yet, in your mouth!"
No-no-no, this is how guys get beaten up, John. You don't know who's down there.
Paralysis sets in. I sit frozen in the front seat of the car. I stare down into the darkness but see nothing. If only there was a way of knowing what kind of guys are lurking down there. What they look like - what their motives are, good or bad?
I sit there ten more minutes then start the car to leave. My heart is heavy. I feel as though I lost a game, or some important contest. I curse myself for being so cowardly.
When I get home and go to bed, I feel so bad I have no desire to masturbate. That's headline news in itself! Well, you know, a chickenshit like me doesn't deserve pleasure, does he?
Twenty-four hours later it's deja vu all over again. I chicken-out again. This time on the gut-wrenching lonely drive home I tell myself, "See John, this proves you're NOT gay! If you were you would have gone down that hill. Look at all the problems gay people have and be thankful you don't have to experience them."
In bed that night, I masturbated, but my heart just wasn't into it.
***
I park in the same area for the third night in row and peer down the hill into the darkness.
You are officially crazy now, John, I tell myself. The very definition of insanity is doing the same thing over-and-over expecting a different result. What the hell is wrong with you? Face facts, either you're not gay, or you really don't want to be.
Suddenly, three sharp raps on my side window scare the bejesus out of me. My head swivels until I see a man standing close-by, staring at me through the window.
"Sorry if I scared you," he says apologetically.
"Oh, uh, that's okay," I say to him through the window. He is actually a pretty good-looking guy, and not too old.
"You know, I've seen you here the last couple nights...you can't bring yourself to go down there either, huh?" he says. I thought he had a kind face. "Would you like to talk about it?"
"I dunno," I answer. "I don't know what there is to talk about."
"Could you lower your window?" he asks. "I promise I'm not a freak or a weirdo!"
He suddenly smiles and I relax enough to lower the window.
"My name is David," he says.
"I'm, uh, John," I reply.
"John, I feel a little exposed standing out here, can I sit inside with you? Or, if you want, I'm parked right over there and we can talk inside my car, it's up to you," he calmly says to me.
My car is a mess with various papers and empty fast-food bags. It's embarrassing.
"Uh, how about we sit in your car, David?" I ask him. Not only is he nice looking, but he's not aggressive at all - he seems like a reasonable man. And, he looks like he's only in his early thirties.
He backs away as I open the car door. When I stand beside him, I guess him to be at least four-inches taller than me. That doesn't mean much - I'm only 5'6" - just about everyone is taller than me.
We walk towards a Lincoln Navigator across the street. It looks new - I'm impressed.
I am somewhat surprised when he opens the back door - I assumed we'd be sitting in the front. I had to use the hand rail to climb up and in. When I saw him begin to follow me I scooched over so he could sit beside me.
Safely inside, I enjoy inhaling the new car smell.
He says, "You know, John, if you don't mind me asking, you are so darn cute, I would think you'd have guys tripping over themselves to meet you - why do you come here?"
I blush. "Well, uh, I dunno, David...it a spur of the moment thing."
He chuckles and says, "A spur of the moment thing three consecutive nights?"
This time I blush from embarrassment - how does he know I've been here three nights in a row?.
"Are you even old enough to be doing this? You look like jailbait!" he says.
Well, that's a nice compliment! "Yeah, I guess I do look kinda young, no, I'm twenty-one," I answer.
"Have you ever been down into the park? Have you ever hooked-up with another guy?" he asks me point blank.
I softly say, "Well no and uh...no."
"Have you ever had sex with a man at all?" he asks.
Wow - that was blunt! "Well, uh...no," I say.
I feel like a fool. This is ridiculous, John, you are way out of your league. He wants a boy who's done this before. Why are you even here?
His hands find my left hand in the dark and caress it. A warm and friendly caress. It is reassuring - I relax.
"What are you looking for, Johnny?" he asks me calmly.
I don't like being called 'Johnny' but I don't correct him.
He continues, "Are you just experimenting? You think you might like guys, but you're not sure? You want to try a one-night stand to see if you're queer or not?"
I cringe at the word 'queer' but have no time to react. His hands force mine to his crotch and press it firmly on the outline of his hard dick. Instead of trying to pull my hand away, I sprung a boner of my own.
"Feel it, Johnny..." he whispers to me.
I was shocked by the heat I felt on my hand. Damn his thing is hot!
"Johnny, I'm going to help you figure out if you're serious or not," he says, "...either get out of my car, or feel my cock - NOW-BOY!"
I've heard that a person's first instinct is usually the correct one. If told to do something and you hesitate, it means you don't really want to do it anyway.
The moment he yelled "NOW-BOY" my instinct was to not only grasp the outline of his cock thru his slacks, but to also run my hand back-and-forth on it...back-and-forth...back-and-forth...back-and-forth...
