My wife takes the children to herparents out of state to lay low until the drama fades. She doesn'tbelieve me. She looks at me with those piercing, ...udgmental eyes. Thisevisceration is too much for her to stand, and she escapes with my mostvalued possessions- our two children. So, I sit alone on my couch listening to the talking heads trying topiece together the stories of teachers abusing their powers withchildren. My right hand falls off of the whiskey bottle and slams ontothe arm. Our eyes meet and she quickly looked down at her feet, and I returned my attention to my book, then someone flipped my book, I sighed and looked up. It was Mr QB putting his face right at mine, our nose almost touching. I raised a brow and sighed again.QB: “Dafuq you looking at faggot?” Nice vocabulary I thought.Me: “Right now? your ugly face champ.” The oohs, and the aaahs emanates from the crowd surrounding us. Didn't take much to attract a crowd, it was a boring small town after all.QB:. .my heart was racing, what the fuck had I done, I had fumbled with girls before and the writings on toilet doors and walls had always made me hard but I had never followed up, or even imagined I would be in a position like this. I noticed him slowing down and turning into a quiet lane surrounded by trees, a minute or two later we drew to a halt, near a gate to a field. he unbuckled his seatbelt and leant over his hand leaning on my leg as he looked at the mag with me... "Do you like the cocks?". And this is where this current story comes from. I regularly used a phone contact line for gay and bisexual people attempting to get contacts and arrange meetings, which was on occasion successful but not very often, many time wasters just out for a cheap thrill and scared of making a real contact and following through with it.This event happened about 10 years ago now and I often recall it with fondness, although at the time I thought I had blundered very badly. I had a run of several good.