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He knew the area where I lived, so I walked down the street from my house and he picked me up in his pickup truck at the corner. His name was Edward, Ed for short, and he was nice looking, in his forties and had a neatly trimmed beard. We drove around looking for a good spot. We found a closed business less than a mile from my place with a dark deserted parking lot. Ed pulled in and parked in a dark area shielded from the street by the building. As he put his truck in park, he asked, “Does this look okay to you?” I was almost too nervous to answer at this point but it looked like as good of a spot as we were likely to find so I said, “Yeah.” He asked, “Are you ready?” and I just nodded my head. Ed was about half-terrified, but very excited too. I remember being so nervous that my mouth was so dry I struggled to gather a little spit. Ed was wearing those sissy (faggy) looking nylon running shorts and he pulled them off completely, which surprised me. He wasn't hard yet but he told. All except poor Samuel Bragg and he didn’t count seeing as he wasn’t a pal, he wasn’t quite ‘right’. Poor old Sammy couldn’t even keep his britches on, showing his dick to the girls as simple minded as he was and was the butt of all the kids’ jokes, but right then, right at that very moment I envied Sammy’s life. At least he wasn’t going off to probably get killed, to have his napper shot off by old Fritzy boy. Oh no, Sammy would more than likely be trotting round the town in his clogs and bare arse for the next sixty or seventy years – lucky bugger. I shook off my cloak of glumness. I had to act happy at least, even if I did feel like the world was about to end, which was a very real possibility at least as far as my individual status within it was concerned. I sighed once and set off down the familiar old track towards home. My boots clattered harshly on the cobbles as I walked up past the pub. I cussed at the damned things since I wanted only to be in amongst the familiar.
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