Growing Up in my Hometown
Coming from a bar on Castro Street, reeking of too much cigarette smoke, blasting with the heavy bass dance music, and giving me a migraine, I cruised two men in designer hairdos, walking a pair of white trimmed poodles. I walked, peering at two men parade in tight black leather pants with their bare white asses, hanging out through open holes.
In high school not knowing where my sexual identity might lead, I was not as free spirited to dress like them. It was not that I did not have a fetish for leather and what it implied; I was simply inhibited.
Even though I felt like I was a wimp, my restrained image shattered in my senior spring year in high school. I never imagined being like Lewis a guy, who sat next to me in American history, speaking out honestly right to the point, when asked a question. Facially he expressed openness, whereas my face froze like a statue to hide my desires. Whenever anyone addressed me, I simply smiled, shyly responding with the safest comment, not wanting anyone to look inside.
Lewis amazed me with his body language, his physique, and overall appearance, projecting the strong person I wished to be. At the same time he frightened me with his strong masculinity and his manly facial structure, but the smile on his mouth and in his eyes expressed gentleness and compassion. His tanned face and body looked like men in advertisements for Coppertone Sun Tan Lotion, his blue eyes sparkled the clarity of topaz through the darkness of his skin. My senses languished in every mannerism he displayed.
One day in class I secretly spied from the corners of my eyes in his tight fitting Levi’s, displaying him snugly in all the right places, like his crotch, butt and thighs. I envied his physique every guy wished he had. I scoped his reaction to a query the teacher asked. His response was brilliant, arguing the point confidently. When he turned and glanced at me, smiling, my face blushed red but I smiled right back. With Lewis the star quarterback of the varsity team, I felt like we just scored a touchdown together in a game. The flush of scarlet, cloaking my face, was like a rush of pleasure, I cannot explain. That moment when he smiled at me, I knew we bonded and he was approachable.
I fantasized a time when we were both older, both of us naked lying in bed, with him perched over me ready to kiss. Then he would launch his manhood until our passions overwhelmed our inhibitions and we made love.