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I watched the beginning of a football game (they begin at 10 on the West Coast) and then strolled to the bus stop.I got to the library a half hour before it opened. I cursed and sat down on a bench. I must have dozed in the sun, for it was 12:10 when I looked at my watch. Rubbing my eyes and stretching, I realized that I didn't want to read any more Gillespie. I didn't want to read Jens Peter Jacobsen, either. I thought of Alice. I had looked her up. And she'd made a remark about an article of mine.In the library, at the bibliography table, I thought I'd look in the most recent volume. "Singleton, A." had two entries: a Ford and a Haggard. The previous year listed a piece on A.E. Coppard, whoever he (or she?) was. And the one before that featured an article on Anna of the Five Towns and one on Wilde and Beerbohm. I decided that five items would be enough and took the elevator upstairs, where the entire floor appeared deserted.I hunted up the five journals, put them on a table near. I then said "Do you want to take my jeans off and I'll take yours' off at the same time?" He shyly said "Sure, that would be fine with me." We both stood up and put our hands on the other's belts and unbuckled them slowly. Then, he carefully slipped my jeans down, and I nervously removed his after. We ended up standing there in our boxers until he said "I'll go first, if you want." I nodded my head in agreement. He pulled his red boxers down to his ankles and kicked them to the side. I gazed down at his semi-erect dick, which was covered in a healthy amount of dark hair. It was quite beautiful, but I did not want to touch it just yet. It was my turn to remove my own blue briefs, which I did with some hesitation. My little dick sat there behind a bush of brown hair and was barely peeking out. We just stood there and looked at each other's units and sort of bit our lips in anticipation. "So, James...can I touch it?" He looked up at me and said "Sure you can, Ray. Can I touch yours'.
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