A Hairy, Scary Stare

Hairy, Scary, Stare

From the age of 14 when showers were first required after gym (and a good idea too), I was the tallest and hairiest beast in the locker room. With newly elongated limbs, I was also the most uncoordinated. I dreaded the locker room, the towel whips and cruel taunts my classmates had to endure.

Luckily for me, the wee jocks seemed intimidated by my size and all that hair – head to toe, I assure you. Occasionally, when a little muscled sportsman would dare to try to goad me, a simple, fatherly stare would suffice to stop him in his tracks.

"Wow, the Bean gave me the evil eye, I'm shaking now.", one particularly small, fit and sexy black kid would say. His favorite taunt had to do with my disco shirts. But it never failed. After a stare, he left me alone. He was the only black male in grade nine (and ten and possibly eleven). Imagine the type of teasing he must have fretted over nightly.

In due course I learned more about my new super power. I used it sparingly. Everyone, even my buddies, stayed away from me in the locker room as if my hirsuteness were contagious. I had certain advantages I was not about to share with anyone. Although gym class remained a nightmare and I wouldn't grow into my limbs, well, ever. I came to nervously look forward to the changing room.

From my isolated perch above the wet heads of my class mates, I could survey the scene at hand and thus increase my repertoire of nocturnal fantasies several fold from each gym class. Thus could a gay gaze be had in peace.

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2 Comments on “A Hairy, Scary Stare”

  1. allan Says:

    That reminds me of my locker-room days, minus the hair though.


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