This is the beginning of a long story. That I hope you will enjoy. It is a story of love, destruction, and redemption.
“Fuck off shithead and get a job loser” the man said as he passed by Bobby Lopez holding a cup out begging for change. Bobby had been homeless for 9 years whatever he was before is gone all that's left is a husk of a man waiting to die. He looks much older than the 46 years of life he's had on this earth. He smells of sweat, foot, and a tinge of ass. The night was coming and he looked into his cup 8 dollars and 75 cents. It was enough to get something to eat and hopefully find a spot under the bridge to sleep.
He was lucky he found a space under the bridge and tonight wasn't going to be as cold as the nights before. The warm meal he had eaten earlier made him feel good for just a few moments; before the reality of his life would hit him again. He wasn't always like this , but it was difficult for him to remember a better time. As the cars passed above him he was lulled to sleep with the noise. A car with it's radio on loud woke him. “It's twelve past midnight don't close eyes your soul's half alive and I'll be by your side” Suddenly all the memories that he had suppressed came flooding back in. He couldn't handle the reality that was creeping up on him.
It was twenty years ago Bobby was young very attractive, and dressed to fuck. He was paying the cover charge to go into Alexanders a gay bar in San Antonio along with his friends the neurotic atheist Nick Gonzales who dressed goth and was slightly overweight and hid his face with his curly kinky hair. There was Jimmy Bryant who had his own logic which never made sense to anyone but himself. There was Jerry Jenkins he was cub looking, cute and cuddly not every bodies cup of tea, but his parents were rich and he was enamored with Nick's atheist views. The last of the group was James Vance Jackson a black queen that was just perfect in every way.
Bobby walks in, that song is playing. The club is packed he checks out every guy that he hasn't yet slept with. You see there are a lot of stereotypes when it comes to gay people. Stereotypes are bad there's no doubt about that. The scary part though is that there's a bit of truth to them. Well most of the time. Some stereotypes gays aren't to upset about. There's this misconception thanks to TV shows and movies that all the guys at clubs are drop dead gorgeous, and built like tanks. The truth is that most clubs are filled with average looking men only about 5 percent are an 8 or above.
Bobby was an 8, and he fucked pretty much who ever he wanted he didn't care he'd lie to get what he wanted and soon he had a reputation, but that didn't matter to him as long he busted his nut with the cutest guy he could find.
End Chapter 1