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I grew up before there was internet, before there were home computers, before cable television, before VCRs. Even before PFLAG or LGA. If anyone so much as suspected you were a homosexual, you were entirely outcast by everyone - friends and family. There was no one to talk to about it, not even psychologists - they would have you committed to an insane asylum against your will and conduct electro-shock therapy on you. The true modern dark times for gays and lesbians.
II lived on the edge of a small rural town in the upper Midwest, surrounded by farms. It had a small downtown area, a grade school, a middle school, and a brand new high school. A few stores, a few other businesses, but it thrived off the three factories that made farming and industrial machines.
When I started becoming attracted to the other boys in high school, I not only hid that fact from even my closest friends and my family, I tried my best to hide it from myself. I dated a girl my senior year. Back then, you didn't have casual sex. Not if you were a good person, anyway. So, some heavy petting and talk of marriage. Susan never suspected. And I soon fell in love with her.
She certainly never suspected I was also in love with Eric. We'd been friends since grade school. He was just a normal guy, like I was pretending to be. We weren't best friends or anything of the sort, just friends around school and town. Neither of us were jocks or particularly athletic, though we both liked playing baseball with our friends. During high school, I had him in my gym class both freshman and junior year.
Eric was an early bloomer, like me. We were both taller than most of our friends, and we both had pubic hair and growing privates before most of the other boys. He had the nicest blue eyes and red hair. A few freckles, but not many. He was a bit lean, so was I, but we were both strong and capable, not wimps or any such thing. He had the cutest pink nipples. And his penis had this awesome, bulbous, pink head on it. Even his ballsack was pink. Along with his red pubes, it was just such an amazing sight. Nice tight ass, too. And not very hairy at all, just a bit on his lower legs and under his arms, and by graduation, just a hint between his nice pink nipples. He still didn't have a hint of facial hair. I thought he was just the bee's knees. I'd fantasize about him when I allowed myself to think of a boy instead of a girl when I masturbated.
As I said, we weren't really friends, but we lived fairly close to each other, and some of his friends were my friends, and some of my friends were his friends. We often played baseball or other sports together with our friends, or did other things around the neighborhood together with our other friends. We never did anything together, just the two of us, because we weren't friends with each other, we just had mutual friends..
But, oh, God, how I ached to be with him. All through high school. No one knew, of course. Not even Susan. Especially not her.
So I spent my formative teen years hiding my attraction to other boys as best as I could, even from myself. The only things to happen during high school, other than seeing a lot of naked boys in the showers, was hearing rumors. Like the one that Jerry Doyle had been caught under the school bleachers one summer vacation with his pants down and holding a boy face down on the ground beneath him with his pants down too. We'd all heard that one. He'd disappeared not long after that, the same summer. Jerry Doyle, not the kid. I didn't know who the kid was back then. I didn't find out why Jerry had vanished until many years later. And there were other rumors about Jerry Doyle cornholing other boys, too. And there was the one about Sam Winston cornholing his little brother more than once.
Cornholing was something that happened back then. It wasn't considered homosexual, just wrong and probably an indicator of a sick mind. From time to time, we'd hear a rumor that so-and-so were cornholing. It was more or less looked at as some kind of replacement for normal sexual activity between boys and girls during a time when sex between boys and girls was considered dirty and immoral. Only married couples had sexual relations with each other. Or bad kids. Or degenerates. But sometimes boys cornholed each other. I cannot tell you how many times I wished some boy would cornhole me, or I had the guts to cornhole some boy. Especially Eric! But then I'd be glad it hadn't happened, because Sam Winston never lived down that rumor about him and his brother, and ended up with no friends at all, and he killed himself by laying down in front of a train before we graduated high school. But that rumor was him doing it to his little brother, not just some other boy. Superlatively degenerate. I never did find out if those rumors were true. Later, I figured they probably were, because his little brother ran away not long after that. I don't think he was ever heard from again. That whole family was a bit weird.
Thoughts of cornholing Eric and being cornholed by him were my favorite secret fantasy. Seeing him in the showers after gym only fueled those fantasies. Eric was a big boy. His body was fairly average, but he slung a long sausage between his legs. Maybe the longest in our class junior year. All pink and thick and long, with a big, fleshy, bulbous pink head on it. And he had nice big balls, too. I liked him no matter. He could have had a tiny little prick and balls, I still would have thought he was the sexiest guy around. The idea of that monster entering my ass gave me shivers. And I so badly wanted to slide my average prick in between those soft, smooth, rounded, pale globes of his ass and into his most private opening.
After graduation, I went to work at a local factory. I had Dad's old car, a '49 Mercury, and it was reliable and very nice. I proposed to Susan within a few months. We were married almost a year after graduation. We bought a house, with all four of our parents' help. We moved in together and started a family.
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