When my friend broke his leg and couldn't crew for me and the rich, snobbish girl refused to go sailing with me after the first time, her replacement became my life-long partner.
Hindsight is 20-20 yet even now I could not explain how I knew. The memory still as fresh as the scent that lingered on my lips and in my mind. Besides me c sat quietly, unconsciously fingering her collar, smiling to herself, still amused no doubt by the security check.. As the plane gathered speed I turned to c, smiled, winked, her eyes shining, she knew what I was thinking, shared my sadness, understood what last night meant to me.
I'm not a fag. So why was I hard from that hand playing with my ass in the crowded elevator? And who hacked my email at work to ask if I'd had a hardon? He told me not to wear underwear the next day. Bullshit. I always wore briefs. But I didn't. And he played with me again. And now he says I have to go to a video arcade at lunch, and wait for his dick to come through the hole. Bullshit. I won't. Will I?