Date: Thu, 4 Dec 2003 09:23:09 -0500
From: David Waugh
Subject: Looking-for-Sex-2

Copyright c 2003 by David Waugh.  All rights, except those
expressly transferred by the author, are strictly reserved
to the author alone.  No part of this work may be
reproduced, except for single copies of the work and
excerpts used by a reviewer, by any means whatsoever, unless
a written permission is provided by David Waugh.
This is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to actual
people, whether living or dead, is strictly coincidental and
unintended.  The story contains material directed to an
adult audience and involves gay relationships, including
sex, between adults and minors.  It is not intended to
promote or otherwise condone such relationships, only to
describe them as they may exist in reality.
If this kind of literature offends you, or if you live in a
state which places age limits on your right to access this
type of material, please read no further.

Looking-for-Sex-2

     A year passed since the episode with cousin Bill.  I
often thought about him, but the idea that I could look up
his number in the phone book and call him never occurred to
me.  Why?  I guess I was dumb.  He never married, by the
way, and that made me later wonder about him.  I often
regret that I left it at that.  But I never saw him in
person.  Eventually, he moved to Germany and started a taxi
business there.
     I waited.  Lots of men, some of them with appetizing
bulges, passed me in the street every day.  They were so
close, I could easily raise my hand and touch them.  But I
didn't dare.  I had never touched an adult like that.
     And then, suddenly, I had a "break":  our apartment
building "lost" hot water.  And it happened in summer!  When
my father called maintenance management he was told that it
would take a week to have the water pipes fixed.  In the
meantime, the unhappy inhabitants could either use old
laundry basins to sponge themselves, or they could go to a
bathhouse, the only one that survived in the neighborhood.
     Needless to say, I chose the bathhouse.
     It was located at the end of our street, in the
basement of an old one-story building.  To get there, one
had to go down a steep stairway and enter by a rust-stained
door.  Once past the door, one bought a ticket and a locker
and went right if you were male and left if you were female.
Now, I have no idea what happened to females, but males,
once they were past the inner door, found themselves in the
locker room.  The lockers were lined up against the wall,
one on top the other.  You found your locker by the number
printed on the ticket, and then you undressed and went to
the shower area divided into tiny narrow stalls, each one
accommodating one or two men at the most.  Each stall had
ledges in the wall where one put one's soap, sponge, and
shampoo and a hook to hang one's towel.  There was nothing
else, the d‚cor was Spartan.
     I chose to go in the morning because I was certain that
if I chose to go in the evening, my parents would say "no."
They believed that I could very adequately use the laundry
basin, and they were absolutely right.  Only washing was not
my only or even my main concern.
     With a palpitating heart, I descended the stairway,
shoved my money to the cashier, got my ticket and lock - the
ticket was #5, I remember it like yesterday (did it mean I
was visitor #5 that day, I wondered?) and went in.  It was
10 o'clock in the morning, and I did not expect it to be
crowded.  But I didn't expect it to be completely deserted
either!  Not a living soul anywhere!
     Well, I had already bought my ticket.  I started to
undress feeling stupid when suddenly the door opened and in
came another man.  I had seen him in our building and even
heard his name but never talked to him.  He was a repairman
of some kind and worked for the Maintenance.  I had heard
him called Uncle Gray by other personnel, or simply Gray by
the younger people.
     Uncle Gray was probably about 30.  He was compact,
blond, blue-eyed, and pink.  He was a bit lame because he
had broken a leg, and it didn't knit well.
     At the sight of Uncle Gray I went into the slowest
mode.  I had already taken off my shirt, but I still had my
pants on.  I now proceeded to take them off as slowly as I
possibly could.
     Uncle Gray, on the contrary, undressed at a lively
pace.  Off went his T-shirt, down went his pants and
underwear - he took them off together - and I suddenly saw a
NAKED MAN.
     As I said, Uncle Gray was pink and smooth, with hardly
any body hair.  But his groin and his "bubic" area were
covered with a luxurious blond growth.  His penis was small
- it looked quite large to me, but I somehow realized, just
by looking, that it was not a large one as penises go and
also that it was "asleep."
     But his balls were magnificent:  large, prominent, each
one almost as big as his fist, they reposed between his
legs, one below the other; they formed a pillow that
supported his small uncircumcised penis.  His foreskin did
not reach far enough, so that his glans peeked through.  The
ensemble was terrific, I forgot to hide my fascination and
merely stared at him.
     Uncle Gray did not waste any time.  He undressed in
less than a minute.  While he shoved his clothes into the
locker, he turned sideways.  I remember his "profile" so
well!  In the light of a small bulb coming from the ceiling,
his pubic hair acquired a golden tinge; his prick looked
longer than it actually was, and his balls puffier.
     He shut his locker, entered his combination, then
grabbed the soap, shampoo, and towel and headed to the
shower area.  As he walked toward me his balls and dick
dangled.  I stared, as if bewitched.
     "You have never seen a naked man before?" asked Uncle
Gray as he stopped in front of me.  He made no attempt to
cover himself.  He proudly stood smack in front, confident
in his nakedness and his body.
     I nodded.  What could I say?
     "Whatever is natural is not shameful. Let's go take a
shower," he said and waited while I nervously finished
taking off my pants, crammed my clothes into the locker, and
then helped me with the combination.  When my clothes were
safely locked, he put his hand on my head and "guided" me
along while I put my right hand around his left leg, the one
closest to me, and continued to stare.  My face was so close
to his body that I could see each hair, each mole on his
organ.  And the smell, the sweat of a healthy young male,
mesmerized me.  I could not take my eyes off of his body.
They were just above his testicles.  If I moved my head
forward, only a little bit, I could have put my face into
his groin.  As we entered a stall, it occurred to me that I
could touch him if I raised my right arm.  But touching A
NAKED MAN was unthinkable.
     Once we were in the stall, Uncle Gray put the shampoo
and the soap onto the ledges and hung his towel.  Then he
did the same thing with mine, and turned on the water.
     We did not speak.  What was there to say?  I watched,
grateful that I was allowed to just watch him, as he
lathered his hair, his face, chest and stomach. I did as he
did.    When he finished the front, he turned to me and
said, "Will you do my back?"  Would I ever!  I worked on his
back for about ten minutes.  But when I reached his behind,
he said, "That's enough," took away my sponge, and proceeded
to wash mine.  One's ass was not to be touched either.
     Then, finally, came the intimate place in front.  As I
lathered mine, I felt a strong excitement, and my "baby
carrot" started to grow.  I am sure that Uncle Gray saw that
but did not say anything.
     I watched him lather his "hot dog," then rinse it under
warm running water.  How I longed to touch him!  But I knew,
instinctively, that I could not do that.  I would be "dead
meat" if I tried.  The whole thing in the shower did not
take more than ten or fifteen minutes.  As we were leaving,
I asked him, "Uncle Gray, when are you coming next time?"
      "Tuesday," he said.  "IF there's still no water."  And
we parted.  But the following Tuesday I was out of luck:
the water main had been repaired.

     I saw Uncle Gray again only a couple of months later.
I had been playing in the yard when suddenly I saw a
familiar T-shirt and the figure I knew so well.  He was
briskly walking across the yard, visibly preoccupied.  I
dropped everything and ran over.  He barely looked at me.
     "Hi," I said.  And as he stared at me without any
visible recognition, I added, "Do you remember me?  We were
in the shower together."
     "Ah, hi."  He gave me an indifferent look and kept
going.
     "Are you still going there?"
     "Where?  The showers?  No, the water pipes have been
repaired, I can take my showers at home."
     "Uncle Gray," I said, "will you show it to me?  Please!
Just this once," I whined.
     "Show what?" he asked, visibly surprised.
     "Your hot dog."
     My calling it a "hot dog" vastly amused him.  He
laughed like crazy, it really broke the ice.
     "You've seen my hot dog, haven't you?" he asked when he
calmed down.
     "That was more than two months ago.  I want to see it
again," I whined.
     "Well, you can't.  Grown up men are not supposed to
show their hot dogs to little boys."
     "Please, Uncle Gray, I want to see it so much!  No one
will know, I swear!"
     He sighed, then suddenly relented.
     "OK," he said, "just this once.  I have to pee.  And so
do you, I gather, we can go together.  Follow me to the
personnel bathroom.  At a distance," he said and opened a
heavy door that led to the maintenance basement.
     I followed him to the maintenance personnel bathroom
and waited till he shut the door.  He then unbuttoned his
pants and fished his hot dog from inside his pants.  How I
wanted to put my hand inside his pants!  But I did not dare.
I watched him holding his hot dog as his piss hit the dirty
toilet bowl.
     He then shook a few last drops off the tip and put his
hot dog back inside his pants; then buttoned them up and
flashed the toilet.
     "Satisfied?" he asked.
     I nodded.  I was far from satisfied, I could watch his
hot dog forever.  But I knew he would lose his patience.
     "What about you?" he asked.  "Are you gonna pee?
     "No, unless you want to see my baby carrot," I said.
     "Me?!  Yours?!"  He just laughed.
     "You go first," he told me as he opened the door.
     I did.  And I never saw him again.  Did he move?  Did
he change jobs?  I never found out.
                            * * *