After a moment, they realized I was there. Jerome just stood there, meeting my eyes in the mirror as though he didn’t care that his erection was standing there like an elephant in the room. Alfonzo tried to cover up but couldn’t, of course: His nine inches couldn’t be hidden by a mere towel, no matter how large.

I stood there for another moment and then smiled and said, “Excuse me.” I went to the urinal, pissed, flushed, and went back out to my gym bag, smiling again as I walked past them. They were still standing there, frozen, looking like two (horny) deer in the headlights.

From then on, each Saturday morning I enjoyed a visual feast after swim class as Jerome stood admiring his body in the mirror as Alfonzo rubbed his own hard-on dry with his towel. I’d stand in the doorway between the locker area and the bathrooms, watching them. They didn’t do more than just look at each other, until The Day. Years afterward, I still think of it as The Day.

[to be continued]