Free Boys Will Be Boys - Their First Time by Mickey Erlach

I took a long time , too. At least you came out and did something. ”
    Carlo rose up and looked down at him. He, too, looked really happy. “ Finally. ” He grinned and glanced up. “ Thank s to that camera of yours. ”
    Paul chuckled. “ Yeah , I guess a picture really is worth a thousand words. ”
    Carlo kissed Paul ’ s lips again and smoothed back his hair. “ Not a thousand words, Paulito. Just three. ”
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    Mickey Erlach

Noah ’ s Arch
By Ryan Field
    One summer a few years ago, there was a young man who discovered he was turning into the wrong person.
    He was only twenty-two years old by then , a college graduate with a degree in business but still working as a waiter in a small rural town in eastern Pennsylvania . He was t all and rugged and muscle-toned, with a shock of dark brown hair that fell across his forehead – thick hair that always appeared slightly wind blown. Dark eyelashes framed his deep blues eyes. He had a n unadventurous style of dress veering precariously close to Catholic School uniform.
    Give him credit . M ost guys his age, with his background, would settle for marrying their high school sweethearts and ignoring their innate urges. It ’ s only a phase I ’ m going through, they would say. Just get married , and it will all go away in time.
    It did occur to Noah to say that. But he didn ’ t.
    On the night he made his discovery, he was meeting his married lover at the rest stop along the I95 corridor in Chester County , PA. His first and only lover was a man who could curl his toes and make his eyes roll to the back of his head. It was a warm, humid night in late August 1999, and the rest stop was crowded with hungry drivers – men looking for other men on the down-low.
    All styles and makes of cars, from mini-vans to BMWs, were parked on an angle in the parking spaces that circled the grey brick public rest rooms. Off to the right, beyond the automobile section, large trucks with motors running endlessly lined a manmade wooded area where truckers could park and sleep in their air - conditioned cabs. Some stood outside, leaning against their rigs puffing one cigarette after the other, while the local tranny would sashay by in red stilettos and a black mini skirt waiting for one of them to say something like, “ Hey baby, you got a light. ”
    But it was a safe place, too . F or some reason , there were never any cops after ten at night.
    For about six months, Noah had been meeting this married guy, Mike, at the rest stop every Saturday night at ten. An ex-Marine-turned-farmer, same age as Noah, who looked really hot in baggy jeans and always wore black steel toe half boots with a crew cut , he was an ex-high-school-jock type of guy. Mike never spoke much, but whatever he said was always a compliment, and he treated Noah like a fragile wine goblet that might crack with the wrong move. He also didn ’ t bother explaining, or hiding, his gold wedding band , and Noah understood there would be no fantasy of having a real relationship. Mike liked fucking good looking young gay guys, and Noah liked getting fucked by straight guys who drank beer and wore baseball caps.
    When Noah pulled alongside Mike ’ s beat up Chevy that night , it suddenly occurred to him that he got a sinking feeling in his stomach lately when he saw Mike. But still exciting, too, and Noah needed dick. So he got out of his Honda and slipped into the backseat, where Mike was finishing another bottle of beer. Noah gently placed his palm on Mike ’ s large bicep and leaned forward to kiss the stubble on his cheek.
    “ Hey, baby, ” Mike said, as he chugged down what was left in the beer bottle and then belched.
    It all went as predicted . N o talking while Noah systematically removed all his clothes and Mike watched with a fierce look in his eyes as though he hadn ’ t been fed in months. The exhibitionist in Noah liked this part the most – Mike ’ s glaring , his need to pounce on Noah ’ s smooth