Then he sat, not next to me, but there was certainly only one seat between us.Īgain the time passed. He came closer, hesitated, came closer still. Then, suddenly, my attention was redirected to the left, where I felt the vibration of someone else approaching. Unconvincing moans and uninspired music emanated from behind the screen I could not see. No matter what, though, I would not move. I had no idea who he was or what he looked like. I would feign sleep no matter what he or anyone else who came along did-it might be nothing, it might something I had never considered. I could feel his wondering stare and I began to sweat. I could feel the row of seats jostle as he sat in what I estimated to be two or three seats away from me. Within ten minutes, I noticed out of the corner of my eye the shadow of someone approaching down the row of seats to my right. As far as I had been able to tell, no one ever sat there without being "available." I sat down, slouched back in the seat, and half closed my eyes. I made my way to the center of the back row, which I had observed was the most serious "action" area. The theater was not crowded, and the back rows were empty. I went to the theater yesterday, arriving early.
From there, I couldn't see what was happening behind the seats.Īfter watching this closely a few times, I made my plan. Even more occasionally, two men, after exchanging various looks and subtle signals, would manage to move next to each other.
Occasionally, a young man would sit in one of the last rows, and the older men would look lustfully at him and enviously at the older man he had seated himself closest too. The atmosphere was rather restrained, with mostly older men sitting and staring at young men as they passed by. I had noticed with little difficulty but fair curiosity the goings-on in the last couple of rows of the local adult theater. And over that time, I struggled both to forget the night, and to make it come true. More than that, though, it was the sleeping aspect of the fantasy, I suppose, that has so intrigued me over the last seven years since that night-the vulnerable position I was in, the fearful one he would have been in if he had dared to do anything. I'm not very attracted to men as sex objects, but the thought of doing something "forbidden" in some sense arouses me. And I never mentioned the fantasy to anyone, but I have always thought about it. With half-closed eyes I waited and hoped he would emerge. I would feign sleep and see what he would do, I thought. I lay on my back and pulled my blanket aside, exposing my briefs. Although I did not feel attracted to him, I began fantasizing that he might sneak out into the living room and touch me while I slept.
He slept in my room I slept on the couch in the living room. A friend who was gay was sleeping over at my house. I first fantasized about doing something with another man when I was 17. I am anxious to tell someone about my first experience with another man and, as I don't find anyone immediately available, I thought I'd write it down and forward it along, so that someone would see it.