When I was nineteen years old, I got a job as a salesclerk to help defray some my college expenses. It was a high-tech appliance store, and I used to get-off laughing at some of the assholes who would walk in and wouldn’t know a hard drive from a gear shift. Still, there were the occasional cool patrons who would wander in and really make my day. For instance, there was this one late afternoon when the manager had left early and this rather confused, very humpy, married guy came in. You know t
he type. He probably had one or two gay experiences in college just for the curious thrill of it. And now, fourteen years, a wife, and three kids, later, he’s had fantasizing about trying it again. But he’s been to scared shitless to ever follow through on it. It was that sort of guy. When he walked in, I got a "woody" just looking at the quiet lust of his subtle, animal gait. I soon found out that this attractive, physically-fit, thirty-eight year old bank executive was rather bored. His name was Bryant Desmond, and even though he appreciated his work, his family, and his life, but, in general, he was bored. He had been “very” married for the past fourteen years, and he robotically performed all the chores and responsibilities necessary for a man of his education and social status
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