I grew up in a fairly large city, living with my mother and sister. I spent most summers staying with my aunt and uncle in the country, which was a wonderful retreat from urban life. They had a nice large ranch home, surrounded by acres of fields. It was perfect for riding dirt bikes and shooting rifles, which I loved to do with my Uncle Ted. We were great friends and he was like a father to me, especially after my own dad passed away.

My uncle was a large man, about six foot four, very muscular and handsome. Most of his wisdom came form experience not from schoolbooks. In so many ways, he was a true man’s man. Or so I thought.

One summer, Uncle Ted bought a computer and didnt have the faintest idea of how to use it. I helped him set it up, taught him the basics, and soon had him wired to the internet. We were alone, my aunt had gone to a festival with some of her friends. That day will be forever etched into my memory.

I was showing Ted the wonders of the internet, when he asked to see some porn sites. I thought he was joking around but he was serious.

“Come on, Paul, lets see some action. I’ve heard you can see lots of porn on this thing…lets check it out.”

It wasn’t long before we were looking at some great pics – lots of tits and ass, women sucking huge cocks and getting fucked. Ted wasn’t afraid to rub his crotch right next to me and often exclaimed hoots and hollers of approval when I showed him pics he liked.

When I was in my early twenties, I began to frequent a gay bar about 20 miles from my house. I was very shy and nervous and would usually plop myself down near the bar and not make eye contact with anyone. Over time, I became more comfortable with myself and my surroundings. I would always try and get the best vantage point sitting at the bar – one that allowed me to be seen as well as give a good view of the crowd and the folks coming in. One winter night, I was shocked (and a little nervous) to see a co-worker of mine pop into the place.

Roger was in his early 40’s – his look average and very corporate-cookie cutter for the mid-80’s, with graying receding hairline and glasses. Roger was always friendly at work, so I called him over and we began a nice long chat. Although there was 20 years between us, I found it very easy to talk to Roger. Over the next few months, we developed a close platonic friendship both at work and socially.

A few months down the road, I needed to move – I wasn’t making a lot of money and that time and Roger graciously allowed me to rent a spare room in his home. He offered his home as if it were mine – allowing me to have friends over, blast my stereo, and take control of the tv. The guy had a big heart! Our platonic friendship blossomed and I felt very comfortable living in Roger’s home.

About a year or so into this living arrangement, the stress of my job coupled with some family issues I wasn’t dealing with resulted in a few episodes of night terrors. Three hours into sleep, I would start to have a bad dream and, often, start screaming or yelling. I would wake up panting and sweating and feeling badly at the thought of perhaps waking Roger (down the hall in his own room) because of this. Roger began to keep his bedroom door on a crack and would knock on my door and call my name if one of these episodes occurred.

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