I was crouched down, looking at the videocassettes on the bottom rack. I smelled his cologne first. I glanced up just as he glanced down. He blushed, and looked quickly away. I examined him. My age, but there the resemblance stopped. He was about 5'7", with the slim, lithe body of a dancer and a tight, firm ass. In profile he was exquisite. Almost too perfect. His hair was a casual mass of black curls that brushed against his collar. My cock stiffened as I looked at him. Damn, what a beauty he was. When he looked back at me, I was staring at him openly and appreciatively. He blushed again, but this time managed not to turn away. He gave me a hesitant, nervous smile. I gave him a hungry, predator's grin. His blush deepened, but his body trembled in response. I let my eyes move up and down his body, obviously, hungrily, even licking my lips once, then flashed the eyes back up at him. He was wide-eyed, still trembling, the front of his pants bulging. It was the perfect meeting of hot desires, until we got interrupted by a little piece of gay hell.

There were three of them, because there is always at least three of them. They travel in packs. They spotted my pretty about-to-be-new-friend and went straight for him. The hissed all the usual names at him, and I'm proud to say, the dancer didn't back down. I stood up. That got us a whole new game. I'm a cocksucking, sissy-faggot, too, but I happen to be a 6'3", 200 pound, weight-lifting cocksucking, sissy-faggot, and it takes a hell of a lot more than three closet escapees to make me nervous. They took one look at me and decided to go play somewhere else. The dancer turned and looked straight into my chest. He shifted his eyes up to my face. I smiled. "Wow," he said. Nobody had ever said "wow" about me before. We were on his couch making out like mad fiends in what seemed like 10 seconds.
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