Growing Up Black In The City

As a teen I lived in Pittsburg and spent all my time on the street. A couple of streets over was a general store, paperclips to toothpaste. If I had managed to steal a quarter I went there to buy cigarettes. If I only had a dime the old man started giving me a one more calling it a baker's dozen. If I didn't have any money he would slip a cigarette to me anyways. He invited me behind the counter. Hugged me, rubbing my behind. Grabbing my penis in my pants. Running his hand through my hair, patting my cheeks.

I had to pee and he let me use the toilet in the back of the store, standing in the door to watch, he unzipped and stood and went in front of me. He had me touch his penis, and he touched mine. Of course it was a secret. I dreamt of it, getting hard at night. I guess I fell in love with his penis, behind the counter there was plenty of opportunity. Especially after he closed at ten. Losing my virginity to him one night after he kissed me. For straight kids there were plenty of kids anxious to grow up. For a queer kid someone had to be first, someone had to show you. For me it was the old man.