Date: Sun, 3 Oct 2010 15:53:21 -0700 (PDT)
From: Journal Man <journalman1@yahoo.com>
Subject: Mr. Sanders (Chapter 1)

One of my earliest childhood memories was significant in ways that wouldn't
become clear to me for many years.  I remember my Dad playing basketball with
some of his friends out on our driveway after he got home from work.  It is a
happy memory for me, and I wasn't quite sure why.  But later I realized it was
mainly because I was able to enjoy the scene of 30-year-old men stripped down to
their shorts and in their prime as the fought and sweat over the basketball.  It
was full of friendly body contact and camaraderie.

Mr. Sanders was always my favorite.  He had a beefy build that was handsome, but
I think it was his hairy body that really attracted me.  He wasn't exactly
furry, but he had a modest covering of black body hair that covered his chest
and legs.  I loved watching him go for a lay-up because I'd get to see his
underarms.  He was also one of several guys whose shorts would show his package
swinging from side to side as he ran toward the basket.  The sweatier he got,
the more his shorts would cling and reveal what was underneath.

He sensed my particular interest in him as friendliness, and he would pay
attention to me in return.  Between plays he'd come over and say a few words to
me and muss my hair.  I loved it when he came over to me when he was playing
because it was my chance to see him closer up.  He was my Dad's best friend, so
it seemed natural I guess that I got along with him also so well.

I'm not sure how the tradition got started, but eventually Dad began inviting
Jake (Mr. Sanders) to stay for dinner.  He was divorced with kids, but his boys
were older, and he'd just call them up and let them know.  I didn't really give
much thought about how it was a little strange that he didn't have dinner with
his family on those nights.

The best part of this deal was that between the game and dinner, Dad (and
therefore Jake) would take a shower.  We only had two bathrooms, so while Dad
was showering, Mr. Sanders would use my bathroom.  I remember the first time he
showered, Dad specifically instructed me to not bother Mr. Sanders while he was
in the bathroom.  I suppose I was at the age where I could make a pest of
myself.  But honestly, it never occurred to me to "bother" him while he was in
the bathroom at all.  For me, seeing a grown man naked was still a big mystery
and a big deal.  My father had never let me see him naked.

My bathroom had two doors: one went out into the hall, and the other came into
my room.  I stayed in my bedroom with my door closed while Mr. Sanders was in my
bathroom.  I wanted to listen to him in the bathroom through the bathroom door.
 I even think I looked under the door once, but I couldn't see anything.  So  I
sat in my room while he was in their showering concentrating on all the sounds
coming out of the bathroom.

I heard the water turn off and the shower curtain being pulled back, then I was
quite startled when he opened the door.  Since I was listening at the door, it
hit me, and I was terrified.  He called my name, but couldn't see me because I
was still behind the door.  So I stepped back and responded as if I hadn't been
right there.  He peaked around the door, and I could tell he was wet and naked.
 He didn't reveal himself, but somehow I knew.

He looked at me and said, "Oh there you are.  Ummm, I need a towel."

"They're out in the closet in the hall."  I answered.  He sort of looked at me,
so I finally realized that he needed me to get him one.
"I'll get one for you."

"Thanks."

I went out to the hall and grabbed the first one I could find out of the closet.
 When I came back into my room, I was now facing the open door, and Jake was
standing naked half-in and half-out of my room with his hand still holding the
door.  As I handed him the towel I am sure that he noticed my eyes were popping
out of my head as I stole a glance at his naked body.  He took the towel, but he
didn't retreat back into the bathroom.  He began drying off right where he was
standing.  He then launched into some sort of conversation with me, but I was
too stunned to have any idea of what he was saying.  I was somewhat mesmerized
but also scared at seeing a naked man for the first time in my life.  He just
kept on drying himself off as if it were no big deal.  Finally he finished and
went back inside to dress.  I think I was a basket case also during dinner that
night.

It was probably a few weeks later before he stayed for dinner again.  This time
I was much better prepared mentally.  As before, after his shower, he came into
my room and asked me to get him a towel.  I was more responsive to him.  I
remembered he asked me in a rather off-the-cuff manner whether I minded his
nakedness.  I tried to match his casual tone, and I told him I didn't.  I then
added that I liked it, but I felt embarrassed after saying that.  He chuckled
and said, "That's good."

I was at my desk supposedly doing my homework.  He slung the towel around his
shoulders and walked up beside me to see what I was working on.  My desk had a
mirror at the back against the wall, so as I looked down at my work, I could
easily steal a glance at his fully exposed crotch area.  I was fascinated.   So
this became sort of my routine with him.  I would get him a towel, and then he
would come over naked and I'd show him what I was working on while I checked him
out in the mirror.

I never considered whether he understood what was going on inside of me.  I
never wondered whether he was doing this on purpose.  Such thoughts wouldn't
have occurred to me at that age.  As I reflect back, I still doubt that he did
suspect because his manner was so easy and comfortable.  Being naked in front of
me didn't seem like any big deal.  Also I know now that this was how he lived in
his own house among just his boys where no women were around.

Of course he was aware of me checking him out in the mirror the whole time.  I
didn't realize this until once, I glanced up to his face in the mirror after
gazing at his cock, balls and pubic hair.  He was watching me.

"You like looking at me, don't you," he said with a smile.

I was too scared to say anything.

"It's okay.  It's natural for a boy to be curious about a man's body.  Has Paul
(my Dad) never talked to you about what happens to a guy's body when he gets
older?

Still nothing from me.

"Haven't you seen your Dad naked before?

All I could manage was a quick shake of my head.

"Really?"  He said with a bit of a confused expression.  Then he smiled and said
with a light tone, "Well no wonder you're so taken with me.  You're Dad's got
much more impressive equipment, so if you'd ever seen his, you wouldn't be very
interested in looking at mine."

He laughed, but this made it even worse.  I didn't catch his joke; I got more
scared, and I almost started crying.

At this he kneeled down, and swung me around to face me.  He placed his hands
squarely on my shoulders.  "Hey, what's this?  Don't cry buddy.  Josh, were
pals, right?"

As soon as he mentioned crying, the tears began to flow in earnest, but I
managed to nod my head. He pulled me toward him in a hug.  I loved wrapping my
arms around his naked torso, but the best thing was that I didn't have to face
him.  He wasn't looking at my tears anymore.

"Hey now, look, I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to upset you.  It's no big deal.
 Every kid is curious when he sees a grown man naked--especially if he's never
seen one before.  I didn't know.  I figured you'd seen your Dad before, so I
didn't think it would be a big deal or upsetting or anything.  I would never do
something like that to upset you.  Please don't cry on me, bud.  Your Mom will
never invite me for dinner again."

At this I began to chuckle.  He pulled me away from our embrace to look in my
face.

"That's better."  He pulled the towel from his neck, and handed it to me to dry
my face.  We both relaxed now that the crisis was over.  When I was done, I
handed him his towel back.  And as he took it, he spread his arms out to better
display his body and said, "It's just a body.  Not that different from yours,
really.  It's just got more hair in certain places, and some of my parts are a
little bigger."

At first I just sort of looked at him dumbfounded but excited to be able to get
a good look.  "I didn't expect to see so much hair down there."  I said
cautiously as I pointed.

"Yeah, that's called pubic hair.  It will be the first hair that comes in when
you get older.  It comes in before you underarms or face.  Has your Dad never
told you any of this stuff?"

I just looked back blankly.

"It's okay, I just thought...Well this is the sort of thing a boy usually wants
to talk about with his own Dad.  But we're buddies, and I certainly don't mind.
 Look Josh, you can ask me anything about this stuff, okay?  I'm not going to
tell anybody about what we talk about, okay?  You can trust me."  He looked at
me seriously and nodded in a way that meant he wanted me to nod back in
agreement.  After I nodded, he smiled.  "Good.  Yeah, that's what's called my
pubic hair.  It surrounds my penis and balls."

"It looks different."

"Well on me it's a slightly darker color, and it's curly.  Is that what you
mean?"

My curiosity asked, "Can I feel it?"

"Ummm, you mean my pubic hair?  He said a little bit at a loss.

I sensed his unease, so I quickly looked down in shame.  He put his finger under
my chin, and lifted my face so that I could see his face.
"Hey, we're buds, right?"

"Yeah," I replied a little sheepishly.

"It's okay."  He paused, and then added with a smile.  "Now this isn't the sort
of thing you should be asking guys normally, or else they'll think you're a
little funny.  Alright?"

"Alright."

"But just this once, it's okay."  At this he sort of relaxed and stood up
straight as if to invite my exploring touch.  I didn't budge.  Finally he said,
"Well, go on."

My hand was shaking, as I raised it toward him.  I was so nervous, that I could
barely even feel anything once I came in contact with his pubic hair.  I pressed
my hand against his skin, and my wrist brushed against his dick.

He flinched and said, "Careful, it's pretty sensitive down there."

"Sorry." I jerked my had away.

"It's okay, just take it easy, alright?"

"Okay."

I wanted to touch him again.  This time I went very slowly, and I sort of
stroked his hair, and the bottom of my hand rubbed his dick.  He didn't seem to
mind as much.

But after a few seconds he grabbed my hand to stop it from moving, and said, "I
think that's enough, okay?"

I looked up into his face to see if he was mad.  I was relieved to see that he
wasn't.  He pulled his towel off his shoulders and covered his crotch like he
had become suddenly modest.  Neither of us spoke as he retreated back into the
bathroom to get dressed.  He was his usual self during dinner, and I tried my
best to act as if nothing had happened.

In the future, he still came into my room after his shower.  I tried to resist
looking at him in the mirror.  We never talked about what we had done, and he
certainly never made another offer.  Like he had said, it was "just this once."