There are two gay bars in my hometown, both within long walking distance of my house: a lesbian bar and a gay bar, which, by all accounts, is more aimed towards the older gays. If a 'chicken' were to walk in it would be one for the record books. The gay bar is only about two blocks from my junior high school, and while I wouldn't walk past it every day on the way home, I would often walk past it to congregate at the fast food restaurant across the street after school "dances" (junior high school dances should always be put in scare quotes), play rehearsals, chorus concerts, and the like.
It looks like a house from the outside, grey panelling, hedges, curtains, small porch with a rail. If it weren't for the small flags on the roof, one of each color of the rainbow, you probably wouldn't realize it was a gay bar save for the obnoxious name, written in a small sign, Times New Roman font, italicized.
After school "dances" the 'cool' thing to do was to dare someone to go up and knock on the door to the bar. There wasn't a doorman to the bar, and it was a regular household door; it wasn't made of glass or anything. I'm not entirely sure what the purpose of going up and knocking on the door was, except to annoy others and annoying people different from you is the purpose of junior high.
Now, in junior high I knew I liked boys, had crushes on them, daydreamed about them, jerked off to half-naked images of them in my sister's teen magazines, but I wasn't about to let that out; for a while in 8th grade, I was honest-to-goodness popular, and I wasn't about to fuck that up.
While walking home from the fast food joint across the street after the last dance of the 8th grade year, I noticed something in the bushes. It was a piece of paper, like a note or something. I was walking home alone, since I never really felt that comfortable being sociable and 13 is a little young to be sneaking vodka out of your parents mini-bars, at least in my opinion. I don't know what it was that inspired me to pick it up, but I did.
It was a promotional advert for a video from Titan. All types of men, naked buff hairless and flaccid, with small blurbs under each. "Watch Joey stroke his one-eyed monster into a frenzy!" "As Rico takes a shower after his work-out, he fantasizes about the hot guy he saw on the free weights. He slowly rubs his muscles into a fever pitch." "Stranded on a desert island alone, Andrew sunbathes, and goes overboard coating his member with sunscreen, resulting in a different sort of white gel!"
It didn't take much to get me hard back when I was 13, so when I saw this my penis almost hurt from the amount of blood rushing towards it, engorging to probably as hard as it's ever been. I suddenly got insecure, and looked around me as I folded the sheet of paper and put it in my pocket. I would have ran home except that my cock was too hard.
As soon as I got home I went to my room and released myself, over and over and over again. This was the mid-90s, before we had a computer at home, before I knew which books were 'racy' at the library (eg John Rechy), before I have a tv in my room to watch R-rated films for my pleasure.
The guys weren't really my type, huge guys, obvious steroid use, with short blunt military cuts, but that didn't matter. This was penises. This was gay. This was fucking hot in ways that blew my prepubescent mind.
I kept the sheet of paper underneath my mattress, tucked in the front cover of my mom's Sexiest Men Alive issue of People magazine.
I eventually through it out the summer before I left for college, unsure of what do with it and not wanting to get caught with anything 'too gay' by my roommate. I kinda wish I would have held onto it, if only for sentimental reasons.
My First Porn.
