During my high school years, my best friend, Brett and I were almost inseparable. It took some time for me to realize that I had a crush on him, but there was never any indication that he was anything but totally straight, so I suppressed my attraction, not wanting to lose him as a friend. I spent what seemed like my every waking hour at his house, and thought his parents, especially his dad, were the coolest people who ever lived.
The summer following our high school graduation, which coincidentally was held on my 18th birthday, I noticed that I was becoming increasingly attracted to Brett's father, Mitchell. Mitchell was what I considered to be quite old; probably 42 or 43, but that only heightened his appeal to me. He was 6'1", a lean 185 pounds with a chiseled and smooth face crowned with a thick head of dirty blonde hair, and searching ice blue eyes. He had broad powerful shoulders, and beautifully muscled thighs, which I never failed to notice when he wore shorts. He also had the most perfectly distributed pelt of short cropped chest hair I have ever seen. This was the early 1980's, and chest hair was considered sexy.
At the time, I was a rather small guy; only about 5'7" and 120 pounds, with a boyish face that belied my true age. Girls ignored me for the most part, but often commented on my bubble butt, which was not difficult to notice considering the tight jeans then in fashion. I was usually quite introverted, and was concerned about my attraction to men, although I never allowed myself to label myself as gay. At that time, in my naiveté, I was sure I was probably the only guy in my medium sized, Midwestern city with these feelings which I could not overcome. I was only sure of the fact that I was strongly drawn to Mitchell. I wanted to be with him and near him. Although I admired his physical attributes, I never thought of him in sexual terms.
That changed on a hot night that July, when Brett and his mother were away at a funeral, Mitchell was scheduled to be away on business, and I had agreed to feed Brett's dog. As I was standing in Brett's kitchen, I was startled by the sound of someone opening the front door. When I stepped into the living room, there was Mitchell, even more attractive in a well tailored business suit. He acted surprised to see me, and I quickly explained the situation and turned to leave through the kitchen door. Just then, I heard his low, husky voice state my name in a demanding tone. I turned around and noticed a stern look on his handsome face when he quite bluntly said that he had noticed the way I stared at his body, that it was very obvious, and that it had been happening for quite a while.
