“I suppose you’re both right. However, Sara, I thought you would turn away or something. You know, not wanting to see your old man’s junk.”“...ell, it appears you thought wrong,” Sara blusters out.Sara’s tongue can be quick at times. “There’s no need to get snotty, Sara.”“I wasn’t.”“You were.”“I didn’t mean to be, so I’m sorry.”“It’s okay. But, you need to think before speaking.”“I know. Let’s change the subject. Besides, I want to be honest about something.”“Okay,” I reply.She crawls into the. But new years eve 2009 was to be the strangest experience of my life. I was at a friend-of-a-friend’s party. There was a good mix of people from both genders and orientations and all ages. From my peers (early 20s) to late 40s. I had been approached by this 30-something bloke before (M.) and had politely declined indicating my heterosexuality. He continued to be my friend and we got on really well. He often chatted up straight girls (as only gay men can!) to then palm them off to his. When the two of them and I raked leaves — not that big of a task for a trio — we’d play King of the Mountain and bury each other, the two letting me rub their fronts and goosing me back. Not for that long, usually, except for the time when our mothers came out on the porch and both of the twins goosed me until they went in. Just being silly cousins.It was those two who told me more about our older siblings, the three of us playing poker in the tree house. Strip poker, to be precise. I was down. I smiled to myself in smug satisfaction. Perfect positioning.I reached the row of seats where the giants were sat. I breathed in deeply."Excuse me again," I smiled hoping to soften their mood, "I'm so sorry to trouble you but can you let me back in please?"The first giant stared back at me with piggy eyes. "You again ... and where the fuck's our popcorn and cokes we asked for!" I'm sorry?" I stammered not knowing what he was talking about.He leaned towards me, the rest of his party seeming to.