I had to answer it and face the music. I opened the door slowly. To my jubilation and my puzzlement, the knocking did not come from my girlfriend but...rather from two strangers, a man and a woman who were a few years older than me, maybe 26 or 27. The man was taller than I was, about 6’2” or so, and pretty well built. He was Hispanic with dark tan complexion and I would put around 190 lbs, so a force to be reckoned with. His wife or girlfriend was a tall white girl with dirty blonde hair,. I slowly started to unbutton his dress shirt -- one, two then three buttons. I slid my hand inside his shirt and rubbed his smooth hairless chest. When my finger glided over one of his nipples, he grabbed my hand. “I’m not gay,” he said softly. “Neither am I, but we can’t help who we’re attracted to, now can we?” I said. He released my hand and I continued to play with his chest as I said softly, “You feel so warm and smooth but I want more.” “How-w muc-ch more? Damn, Mr. Jackson, everybody. More

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