His final year of high school began and his sex partner disappeared. The first weeks of the semester were a blur. There were many new things to manage...and his mind was awhirl with what he’d done and his feelings about it. He didn’t understand how it had happened and what had happened to her. But he found that when he jerked off he would think about a dick fucking his ass. The rest of his senior year was relatively uneventful. Because of his ease in meeting people, Colton had decided he wanted. One hundred and fifty years since the death of Hiram B. Heron was hardly the most important of anniversaries, he knew, but at least it was something to promote. And at least Rodwell knew he had come up with the ideal, eye-catching, centre piece to pull in the crowds. Maxine Connor, the museum's curator, probably wouldn't approve, of course.By celebrating Heron, Rodwell knew he would earn some kudos with the College. Heron had been one of its founding fathers, so anything with a Heron. ..It was an amazing evening. We drank more than we should have on awork night, but certainly not enough to incapacitate us. We were, byfar, the most popular stop for men seeking dance partners - and allthree of us said 'yes' far more than 'no'. As the evening wore on, wewere having a giddy, giggly good time. When we weren't dancing, thetalk around the table turned to Sex. Not unexpectedly, Faye was awealth of anecdotes about lovers, their penis sizes and shapes, andwhere she had done them - or. By that point, we had put our tongues down each other's throats and touched our balls together plenty of times. If that was the metric, then we were gayer than a three dollar bill. We had gotten our fair share of ridicule. We had been called all kinds of names and branded all sorts of things but it never deterred us. We both could crack some skulls if push came to shove. Luckily, we only had to defend ourselves once. We were lovers not fighters and we loved far harder than we fought. “Can you.