Finding My Manhood, Part I


Author's Note: This story contains graphic depictions of sexual encounters between adult men, some of whom are related. Do not read this story if it is illegal in your jurisdiction to do so or if you have any moral objections to the content. This is a work of fiction, based solely on the fantasies of the author. Any similarity to any persons, places, or events is entirely coincidental and unintentional.


This story is a tale of personal discovery, relationships, pain, hardship, and the ultimate triumph that comes from finding the place in this world where you belong. Though sex will be an important part of the story, not every chapter will have graphic sexual scenes. If you are looking for a story that is only about sex, then this is not the story for you. However, if you are looking for a story that speaks to our fears, our sense of love and loss, and our desire to find a place to belong (while still including graphic sex from time to time), then please keep reading.


As well, this story does not address safe sex. Though all sexual encounters in real life should consider sexual safety as paramount, those elements have been left out of the story. Please practice safe sex with the consenting, adult, partners of your choice.






This is my tale. It is not a "rags to riches" tale, nor a tale of "boy meets girl" or even "boy meets boy." No. This tale, rather, is "boy meets self." It is the tale of how I came to understand myself, love myself, and embrace what it means to be a man. It is a tale of triumph, of pain, of confusion, of sexuality, and of being understood and loved by a community of men who still, 15 years later, take my breath away.


Though it is hard to know where to begin, I suppose the best place to start is with Matt. I was nineteen, a freshman in college, and had just recently come out to my family. It had been a long road, and it took a lot out of me. My older sister cried and my mother told me that I was not actually gay, that it was just a choice. My father was good about it, telling me that he didn't care who I brought home as long as I was loved.


However, even with my father's support, my home life was rough. Between the "it's just a phase" arguments with my mother, my sister's sporadic crying jags, and my father's selective mutism when it came to supporting me to my female family members, it was hard to be at home. Don't get me wrong, my father was incredibly long as the other two weren't home. When they were, my father just fell silent.


It was a Thursday in the middle of May when I met Matt. After yet another argument about the future of my life, in which my mother shed more tears for the grandchildren I would never give her, I left the house. I couldn't take in there anymore, and took refuge in the one place that I knew I could be alone and in peace; the local library.


Our city had an impressive public library. Four floors, thousands upon thousands of book, and a lot of quiet nooks in which I could just sit, read, and forget about the troubles that existed outside the worlds of literature. It was an escape for me, and I needed to escape.


I grabbed a worn copy of a novel by Stephen King and settled in to a reading nook near the bathrooms on the top floor. I liked this spot for a few reasons. It was quiet, since the top floor was the genealogy section and was, thus, rarely as crowded as the other floors. The chairs were soft and worn, making them incredibly easy to be comfortable in.


But, I had an ulterior motive as well. I had discovered, quite by accident, that the men's restroom on this floor had a quarter-sized hole drilled out of the partition between the two stalls. From there, I saw a great many men's dicks as they unzipped, pulled in out, and let their piss fly. It was a rush to spy on those cocks, seeing the wonderful array of sizes and colors. Occasionally, though not often, a man would give his cock some nice tugs and strokes for my pleasure.


I had seen a few guys go in and out of the bathroom, but none really caught my eye. Most of them were in and out in a matter of a minute, obviously just using the facilities while in the midst of their genealogical research.


After about an hour of watching the guys over the edge of my book, I gave up on the half-hearted notion that I would see some nice cock. I went back to my book and shut the rest of the library out in my mind. I got lost in the fear and prose of one of the masters of horror and suspense. I eagerly turned page after page as I read the tale of a woman chained to her bed, alone, her husband dead on the floor at her feet. I could feel her terror as she realized that she wasn't alone in the house. My heart quickened as the terror of night hit her. My pulse raced as she contemplated and attempted numerous escapes from her handcuffed prison.


For the next two hours, I did nothing but focus on the tale in front of me. I was so entranced in the book that I didn't notice him at first. But, after finishing a particularly riveting chapter, I glanced up and saw him standing there. He was a bit shorter than me, looked about ten years older, and was starting right at me. I blushed right away, because this man was beautiful.


He had short hair that was well-styled and black as night. With pale green eyes, creamy white skin, and a smile that made my heart melt, he was perfect. I froze, not knowing what to do under the gaze of this beautiful man. The best I could manage was a half-hearted smile back, a blush, and the obvious feeling of a hardening cock.


I put the book down, adjusted my cock to make the erection less painful, and maintained eye contact with the man. He, in return of my obvious action, adjusted himself and gave his package a few gentle squeezes before turning to head in to the restroom.


For a minute or two, I sat still. I contemplated leaving, following him, and just continuing with my book. Finally, after what seemed like too long of a time, I decided to follow my hormones and headed toward the restroom.


Pushing open the door, I saw him standing at the urinal. His eyes met mine, and he smiled. Gesturing to the urinal next to him, he beckoned me over.


I approached the urinal, unzipped my fly, and pulled my painfully hard cock out of my pants. Not even bothering to look at my own dick, my eyes were instantly pulled to his impressive specimen. At just over eight inches, circumcised, and incredibly thick, it was a sight to behold. His balls, under which he had hooked the waistband of his black lycra briefs, were large. Hanging low, shaved perfectly smooth, and massive, they made his whole package look like it was a gift out of my most fervent dreams. I was mesmerized and wanted nothing more than to get my hands on it.


He, too, seemed to be engrossed in my own cock which, though I'm quite happy with it, was not as impressive as his. My own piece of 19 year-old meat was just a hair under seven inches long, circumcised, and thick, but not as thick as his. Likewise, I rarely produced much precum while his was letting loose with a long, steady, stream of the clear fluid.


I slowly stroked myself while he did the same, neither of us moving toward actually touching each other. For a good three minutes, we stood in silence in the library restroom admiring each other's manhoods. I watched as he slowly stroked his massive cock back and forth, occasionally reaching down to give a gentle tug on his bull-like balls.


I kept myself on the edge of cumming, not wanting this beautiful scene to end too early. It was hard, and I had to occasionally stop touching myself altogether. But, the feeling of my hormones racing through my teenage body and my full balls just bursting with cum was too intense to want to end.


Just as I thought I couldn't take anymore and would have to cum, my new friend and I heard the tell-tale sound of the restroom door opening.


Quickly, we both put our cocks away and flushed, as if we had just been two random guys pissing at the same time. He washed his hands while the newcomer to the scene, an elderly man in his late 80's, shuffled toward the stalls. I, on the other hand, quickly zipped up and left.


Returning to my former chair, I picked my Stephen King novel back up and pretended to read. The reality is, however, that I was far too turned on by what had just transpired to be able to read a horror novel. Convinced that this was a one-time encounter, a random hook-up from cruising, I did all I could to make my hard, throbbing, cock go down. It didn't.


After a few minutes, I saw him again. The dark-haired beauty of a man from the restroom was making his way over to me. My heart raced anew, my cock stiffened even beyond it's already hardened stated. I wanted him, but was too scared to make any sort of move to find him. Luckily, he knew where to find me.


"I'm Matt," he said, sitting in the chair across from me. He flashed a mischievous smile, obviously relishing the private encounter we had just had.


"Rob," I said, nervously, "...I'm Rob."


"Nice to meet you, Rob."


"Yeah, you too."


"So, I really enjoyed what I saw a few minutes ago. I'd love to see more of that," Matt said, without any pretext. He knew what we both wanted, and he had the nerve to say what I was thinking.


I smiled, blushed, and felt a lump starting in my throat. I was young, inexperienced, and didn't know how to actually handle anything sexual that wasn't taking place in quick spurts with nothing said between us. This was new territory, and I didn't know how to proceed.


"Yeah," I started, my voice shaking, "I liked it, too."


"I'm having a couple guys over tomorrow night, if you'd like to join us. They are good guys and I think you'll like them."


"Umm..." was all I could get out. Was this beautiful man, who I had just met minutes ago while stroking ourselves in a bathroom, really inviting me to a party? This seemed like a dream.


"Nervous?" Matt asked, his smile returning as he looked at me.


I couldn't respond. I just nodded. I was sure that I was blushing so much that I risked turning to a shade of red full-time. As well, in my loose-fitting khaki shorts, I was sure that my hardon was incredibly noticeable.


"It's cool. Don't worry. Here's what I'll do, Rob. I'll give you my address and the time for the get together. If you want to come, the front door is unlocked. Just come on in. If you don't feel up to it, that's cool. Maybe I'll see you here again, sometime. I'm usually here a couple times a week."


With that, Matt reached in to his pocket and pulled out a receipt from the gas station across the street from the library. As well, he produced a pen that he proceeded to use to write on the back of the receipt. This was before cell phones were commonplace, so a receipt with an address scratched on the back was the best he could do.


He handed the receipt to me with a smile, adding "I hope I'll see you tomorrow" as he did so.


With that, he stood. Reaching toward the sky, he stretched his body out as if waking his muscles up again. Doing so gave me a very good view of the obvious erection he was sporting. He put his arms down, gave his cock a nice squeeze while staring at me, then turned and left.


I watched as Matt got in to the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor. After about a minute, I stood up and walked to the windows in the back of the building. From this angle, I had a perfect view of the library's parking lot. I watched, and I waited.


A few minutes later, I saw him. Matt walked out the back door of the library and made his way down a couple aisles, heading to his car. I watched as he pulled out his keys, and got in to a late-90's convertible Mustang. Silver, with black racing stripes making their way from the hood to the trunk, and deep red leather interior, his car was distinctive. It was flashy, beautiful, and seemed to fit the beautiful, confident, sexy man I had just met.


For a good ten minutes, I stood against the window and stared out at a portion of the city. Matt had long-since left, but I was in shock. I never expected anything like this to happen to me. Could this be real? Did a man - a man who before today had only existed in my late-night masturbatory fantasies - really just come on to me and invite me to a party?


I was nothing special, or so I had told myself my entire life. I was average looking, at best. Though I was taller than most, at just over six feet tall, I was a little overweight. With a bit of a belly going, goofy hair that never seemed to do anything I wanted it to do, glasses, and a tendency to blush to a bright shade of red at the slightest thing, I always felt awkward and unwanted. No one had ever really showed me the sort of attention and desire that Matt did, and I didn't feel like I truly deserved it. I wasn't special, and yet I was just treated like I was for the first time ever.


Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I walked away from the window and decided to head home. It was getting late, and I knew that I had to face my family sooner or later.


Driving home, I was nervous. I knew that my mother was likely still angry, my sister still crying, and my father still selectively mute in his support of me. But, there was nothing I could do. They were my family, and love them or hate them, I was stuck with them.


As I pulled in to the driveway, I steeled my nerves. I gently opened the front door to the house and took a step inside, expecting to be greeted by anger and pain. Instead, my family was unnaturally quiet.


Mom stood in the kitchen making dinner. Dad was at the kitchen table paying bills. My sister was out, probably with her fiancÚ.


"Dinner will be ready in about half an hour. Go clean up," Dad said, as he looked up from his checkbook. I didn't respond, but I did as he asked.


For the next several hours, our house was completely quiet. Dinner was eaten in silence. I cleaned the kitchen, as was my job at night, and my parents sat in silence in the living room, each reading a book.


The following day started in much the same way. My sister, Beth, was at work for the day, then was going out with her bridesmaids to plan more wedding festivities and to look for an apartment for her and her soon-to-be husband to share following the wedding, which was three weeks away. My mother was gone as well, leaving just my father and me home. I didn't have to work that day, and my father had taken some time off to help plan my sister's wedding.


I plodded downstairs, clad in my boxers and a t-shirt, to get my morning coffee and something to eat. My father, similarly attired, was sitting at the kitchen table again, reading the morning paper and drinking his own coffee.


"Good morning," Dad said, his eyes never leaving the "National" section of the local paper.


"Morning," I responded, as I grabbed a coffee mug out of the cabinet and began to pour.


"Your mom and sister are going to be gone most of the evening tonight. Mom is meeting Beth at the reception venue after work to help the girls plan out seating, then they are all going out to dinner. I've got an appointment with a client at 7:00 that may run late. It's Friday, so I assume you have plans."


I thought back to my encounter with Matt the day before and the note he had given me before leaving. I still hadn't decided if I had the courage to attend this party, but I knew that I wanted to. The thoughts of Matt's beautiful cock flooded my memory and my own cock, barely contained in thin cotton boxers, began to stiffen at a rapid pace. Before I could even get my mouth moving to respond to my father, it was at full mast and sticking straight out.


From his vantage point, my father couldn't see the obvious erection that his son was sporting. For this, I was extremely thankful. I moved closer to the counter, making sure that my throbbing cock was even further hidden from view.


"Yeah," I responded after about a minute. "I have a party to go to tonight."


"Alright," Dad said, as he folded the paper and stood up from the table. "Just leave a note letting us know when you'll be home."


Dad left the kitchen, and I stood quietly behind the counter, waiting for my hardon to go down before I moved. Sipping my coffee, I heard my father head upstairs. A few moments later, the shower in his bathroom turned on.


After I was sure that my father was in the shower, I moved out of the kitchen and made my way to my own bedroom. Setting my coffee on my nightstand, I laid down on my bed and stared up at the ceiling. My cock was still rock hard and poking straight out of the fly of my boxers. My mind raced with both memories of the day before and dreams of what tonight could hold...if I had the balls to go.


I absentmindedly reached down to my cock. I ran my fingers over the smooth head, playing with the slit a bit. I stroked my fingers down the shaft gently, just barely touching the soft flesh. I cupped my balls, relishing the smooth feeling that my shave from a few days prior gave them. My hand moved up and down my shaft, my eyes closing, and my teenage lust taking over.


I lost myself in the feelings of my cock and balls, my right hand absent-mindedly fingering my hole lightly as I spread my legs, while my left hand went slowly up and down my thick shaft. It was intense as I imagined my encounter from the evening before. Matt's cock throbbed in my mind, his balls begging to be licked and his cock begging for my throat. I wanted nothing more than to give myself to him, body and soul.


Lost in my lust, I didn't hear my bedroom door open.


"Sorry to interrupt," I head my father said from the doorway.


I snapped to attention and tried, in vain, to cover myself with my hands. It didn't work, at all. My dick, my balls, and my ass


"You can keep doing what you're doing," Dad said, as I looked his way to find him standing there clad only in a towel, still wet from his shower. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm leaving soon and your Mom and I won't be home until late. Just leave us a note when you leave."


With that, he gave me a wry smile, still looking down at me with my hand on my ever-softening dick. With a wink, and a brief moment of his own hand disappearing under his towel to stroke his own soft meat, he left.


Dad had caught me jacking off before, so I wasn't particularly embarrassed by it. Though he had never caught me mid-stroke like that, nor seen me fingering my own hole, I knew that he wouldn't be upset at me.


In fact, I had caught him once, a few years earlier, when I came home from a friend's house earlier than expected. He had been laying on the couch, completely nude, watching an old copy of "Debbie Does Dallas" and slapping away on his rather impressive piece of meat. When he saw me, he stopped stroking and stopped the movie. But, he never put his dick away or even tried to cover up his nudity or erection. He talked to me about what I had done at my friend's house, what our plans were for the evening, and all the normal father/son things...just with his rock hard, precum-oozing, dick on full display. It was amazing, and is still, to this day, one of my go-to masturbatory images.


The shock of getting interrupted by my father knocked me out of my hormone-fueled frenzy. I got off the bed, threw on a pair of running shorts and a t-shirt, and headed downstairs.


The rest of the day was spent alternating between watching TV, reading a book, and daydreaming about the party which was fast approaching.


Around 7:00, I started getting ready. The party was to start at 9:00, and I wanted to make sure I looked my best. I knew that I didn't want to be the first one there, so I planned on taking my time getting showered and dressed.


I took a hot shower that lasted nearly 45 minutes. I washed every inch of my body multiple times. I scrubbed, shampooed, conditioned, and exfoliated my body a bit more than I probably should have. But, I wanted to make sure I was clean and smelled good for Matt. I didn't know who else was going to be at the party, and I didn't care. Matt was who I wanted.


Next, I scoured through my closet. Twelve shirts, four pair of pants, and six pair of underwear later, I finally had decided on the outfit that would work best for the party. I wore a black and baby blue striped shirt, sleeves rolled up a bit, faded jeans, and a pair of black, lycra, briefs. I felt good, thought I looked good, and hoped that I would attract Matt even more.


Getting in to my beat up Dodge Neon, I gripped the receipt Matt had given me and pulled out of the driveway.


As I made my way across town, my heart raced. I was excited, nervous, and getting hornier by the second. I started to regret the tight, somewhat sheer, black briefs as they only held my cock firmly down and didn't give it room to grow and breath. Every few moments, usually at stop lights, I would reach down and adjust my constantly growing and shrinking erection.


Finally, at 9:30, I pulled in to Matt's driveway. At the far end of the driveway, nearest the house, was his silver Mustang. Pulled in behind him, a white Ford pickup. Lining the street on both sides, I saw at least six other cars.


I put my gar in park and got out. Slowly, with my palms getting sweaty, I walked toward his front door.


"If you want to come, the front door is unlocked. Just come on in," Matt had said to me the night before.


I gripped the doorknob, turned it, and opened the door slowly. What I saw made my heart stop beating momentarily, and made me eminently more nervous to enter the house.