When it comes to written – rather than verbal – evidence of working-class queer lives, this is often ambiguous. For Stephen Hornby's last play, The Adhesion of Love, he researched a group of working-class men from Bolton who set up a Walt Whitman appreciation society in the 1880s. They entered into regular correspondence with America’s great queer poet – and two of them even travelled to New York to visit him. In the play, Hornby has inferred that the men were what we'd now call gay. "If we look at the record that does exist of the Bolton men’s lives with the assumption that they were heterosexual," he says, "we're just left with a lot of puzzles and unanswerable questions. If we flip it, and assume they were interested in men sexually and emotionally, then all those puzzles disappear, and all the questions are answered." But he was persistent, and I admit I was curious. Long story short, it happened. I can’t say I didn’t like it because I did. But we only did it a few times.” So fellas, I'm currently out of town at a hotel for the next week for some work stuff. Been here a couple days and yesterday my buddy suggested we go to an Asian massage parlor today. I'd never been to one before but I thought "why the hell not?" We didn’t´t have much time to stay together because he had to go to work and I got lost in the way so I arrived really late. I must confess I was nervous like hell at the time but he really made his best to make me feel comfortable and I really felt good. I felt so good that I wanted to meet him again another day with more time, and so we did. img09.deviantart.net Jim came quietly into the room a few minutes later and the massage got underway. At first touch I thought I had made a big mistake, I was immediately weirded out by a guy putting his hands on me, but it wasn't long before I settled down and started to relax. I found myself just trying to imagine that it was Kelly's hands.

When I was 25-years old, I took my little brothers on a camping trip to the Northern woods of Wisconsin. We had been making the trek from Chicago for years but after our dad passed away, we decided to keep the tradition going. Kelly had been my massage therapist for over a year now, and she was fantastic. She was beautiful and fun, and she gave a very thorough and erotic massage. Before you jump to conclusions, I should point out that she doesn't do a sexual massage. There is no happy ending. But she did have a sexy way with her massages that were arousing without being sexual. And I always left feeling refreshed and relaxed. I had never been massaged by a man before so I was nervous, would it be uncomfortable? Would he be uncomfortable with any bodily response to his touch I may have? I knew he was gay, but he did not know that I was attracted to him. Maybe he did, maybe he suspected. I felt like I would be betraying my very conservative and catholic upbringing if I felt any sort of arousal, although I part of me knew it would happen. He seemed a bit nervous too. Was he concerned I would freak out and make everything uncomfortable? Hearing those stories, imagining this poor young woman staring at me, giggling and pointing, trying to navigate around it, all I felt was incredible embarrassment. No massages for me, I decided. No way.I doubt he would identify as gay because he was married with a little kid at the time. I’m pretty sure we were both just super curious. Only happened once. I still know the dude.”

He moved his hands further down my thighs, thumbs well towards my inner thighs brushing up against me each time. He then worked down to my knees and over my shins and calves. He moved to the foot of the table and focused on my feet briefly.

He must have caught me eyeing him because he laughed about it. Then, on the next night of his stay, he purposely made sure I saw it again. The rest is history. I was curious and strangely attracted to him. Only happened once and it is not something we’ve ever talked about.” Let me first start off by saying that this story is 100% true. How do I know it's true? Because this is the story of my first encounter with another man and I am telling it EXACTLY as it happened. I was lying face down with my head in the hole at the top, I had my legs as far apart as possible that still allowed my feet to be on the table. My hands were down by my side and I breathed deeply. We went down to the massage room in the basement. I always liked the idea of being massaged in the nude but never had the courage to ask for it. Same this time -- I had white underwear on, although a fully dressed Tom pulled the undies down quite a way to give me a good doing over on my gluteus maximus, which I loved. It was clinical and made me think it was transactional. I decided to pull the trigger and go for it. I arranged to go to his studio at 2pm.

When you are young and broke, you’ll do anything for money. I’m married now with kids and don’t consider myself gay.”No, keep going, I'm good," I said. In all honesty I would've preferred he was pushing a little lighter, but I knew it was better for the muscle, plus I didn't want to admit I couldn't take it.