I’ve known I was gay since I was about twelve. We started changing into uniforms in PE. We would all go into a big locker room together. There was one classmate who was a year older than me. He was going through puberty early. His cock was bigger than any of the other guys and already getting hair around it. He even had whisps under his arms. I’m not sure I even knew what I was feeling then. I sure as heck didn’t know what to do about it. I was a good Catholic boy. That was a million miles from my world. What I knew was that I just couldn’t stop looking at him. I wanted to be close to him, maybe touch him. I wondered how big he got when he was hard. I wasn’t totally ignorant, but I wasn’t even sure why I wanted to know that. I had to be careful, though. I don’t even want to think what would have happened if anybody caught me staring. I couldn’t look long anyway because I could feel my balls start to tingle and my penis swell if I did. Nobody was ‘out’ at my school. There was nothing gay at all! I dated a few girls, but I didn’t care about them. No more than they were fun to hang with. Being Catholic actually came in handy because “Good Catholic Boys” aren’t expected to fuck their girlfriends. I mean, people thought I was kind of lame, but it didn’t cross anybody’s mind that I was queer. I was good looking and popular, and really hung up on religion. That was not totally untrue. I take my faith seriously, but I knew not fucking my girlfriend was a lot easier than it should be....