I moved to Biloxi Mississippi in the summer of 1991. I quickly became used to the heat and humidity of the Gulf Coast. This was the first time I really went out on my own, I had no friends or family in the area. I basically just looked at a map, pointed my finger to a destination, and went. I had saved enough money to live a couple of weeks while I looked for a job. My second day there I was employed. I took a job in a local factory at entry level wage, which wasn't much.    

I found an efficiency to live in on the east side of town. I wasn't to happy with the job I had so I kept looking. After a month or so, I found a better job. I was a machine operator at a saw repair shop. It was owned by a local family who basically all worked there. It was a lot more pleasant environment than the factory.    

I became acquainted with some of the people from work, and some from the apartments where I lived. We would get together on the weekends and go to performances by local musicians. I had a great relationship with all of them as friends. But there was something they didn't know about me. They didn't know that I was gay. Not only was I gay, but I was a gay young man attracted to older overweight men. In other words, I love fat old men. The worst part of all was the fact that I knew so many people, had lots of friends, enough money to live comfortably, but I was completely alone. I had no-one to share my feelings with, and I figured I never would.    

The summer was now gone and the Holidays were quickly approaching. I thought I would find a temporary job in the evenings to make a few dollars extra for Christmas. I have lots of nieces and nephews to buy gifts for. So I began to look in the paper for a job. After about three or four days, I found it. The ad read something like this, "Temporary Handy Man needed for part time work in the evenings." So I promptly called the number listed. I didn't get to talk to him that night, just his answering machine. I hate talking to machines, so I just hung-up. I forget exactly what I did that evening, but when I returned home, I called the number again. This time I got an answer. He told me he would like to interview me the following evening. I was tickled to death, I might actually have the job.    

The next evening I showed up to his door. I rang the doorbell several times before I came to the conclusion that it didn't work, so I knocked on the door. When he opened the door I immediately developed the "shakes". Before me stood the most beautiful man I had ever seen. He stood about five feet eight inches, weighed about 250 pounds or better, had silver hair balding on the top, and the most wonderful blue eyes. He extended his hand to me and said, "You must be Grant, I'm Bob, how are you doing" He invited me into his house and explained to me the duties of the job. I was as polite as I possibly could be. We went through all the routine B.S. then I was hired, just like that.    

I think it was about two weeks before Christmas when he asked me if I could take a look at his sink. Now there was no way in hell I would pass up an opportunity to be with a sexy man like that. So I naturally said sure. I finished what I was doing at his tenants home, then went to his house. I knocked on the door, when he came to the door I began to get the shakes again. He pointed to the kitchen and said go take a look. The sink did have a steady leak, all it needed was a new washer. He came walking in behind me and asked what was wrong with it. I turned around and looked at him and noticed a magnet on the refrigerator of a young naked man with a boner. He noticed my attention had been drawn toward the refrigerator and a look of fear came over him. He went and stood in front of the refrigerator trying to block the magnets from my sight. I smiled at him and told him that it didn't bother me. He looked a little relieved, but not totally. I fixed his sink and left for the evening.    

I laid in bed thinking this over all night long. Now here's a gorgeous old man who seems to be attracted to younger men. Here I am, a young man who would love to get together with this wonderful old man. Now how do I work it out. I didn't tell him that I was gay when I saw the magnets, but he didn't tell me he was either. I had never had a lover before, I didn't have a clue as to how I should go about asking him. It was about enough to keep a horny 20 year old man up all night.    

The next few days he wouldn't hardly come around me unless he had to. I new he felt embarrassed, as I would be if someone saw magnets on my refrigerator with old men on them. I didn't just want to let him get away, but I didn't want to make the first move either. I just sort of insinuated a few things toward him. Then he finally felt more comfortable around me. A couple of days later we some how managed to get things off. He asked me if I liked to fool around. I asked him what he meant by that. He kind of just shrugged his shoulders and smiled. Next thing I new we were at his house on the sofa with my face buried in his crotch. I think I had the hardest boner I had ever had in my life.    

His regular maintenance man was supposed to back after Christmas. But he some how lost his job before then. My hours at work were getting longer and longer while the actual work was getting slower and slower. Mainly because I wasn't always working. This man showed me love for the first time in my life. My feelings grew deeper and deeper by the day. I thought it would never happen to me, but I was in love. We would go places in the evening to eat where nobody we knew would go. I tried my best to spoil him rotten. I would do things for him that I knew needed to be done before he could get a chance to. He would come home and the lawn would be mowed, the garbage would be out, the dishes would be done, and the laundry would be washing. He was a very sexy man, but he wasn't exactly the most organized.    

On my birthday that year, he took me to a fancy hotel in New Orleans where there was a hot tub in the room. I had tried several times to get him up inside of me, but my ass was just too tight. But this night I managed to get it up there. I quickly took a liking to that. He always wanted me up inside of him. Which I always gladly obliged. I remember several occasions when I would finish work and come to see him. He would be laying naked in the middle of the floor in the kitchen or living room, or on the couch, just anywhere with a tube of K-Y Jelly laying on the crack of his beautiful buns. He would start to giggle when I walked into the room. He was always a little silly and very funny.    

Nobody ever suspected us. All my straight friends just thought I was working hard. I was actually only getting paid for the time I actually worked. Which was only an hour or so a day. I was there the greater part of every evening. My friends thought I was taking frequent trips to see my friends and family on the weekends, when I was actually just spending them with Bob at motels all over the south (that sounds sleazy doesn't it).    

One day late in August of 1991, I showed up to work and he was nowhere to be found. I just thought he had gone to the store or something. I knew what I was supposed to do that evening and got started on it. I went to his tenants house to mow the lawn, they weren't there either, so I got started. I got part of the way through when they came home. The man came out to talk to me. He said that's awful about Bob isn't it. I had no idea what he was talking about. He came straight out and told me the news, Bob was killed in that pile-up on I-85 this morning. Those words made my heart drop straight to my feet. I couldn't believe it. He laughed and said he might not have to pay the rent this month. I just wanted to stop right there and just leave. But I knew I couldn't show to much emotion in front of people. So I finished mowing the lawn and went home.    

I spent the greater part of that evening crying. I had lost friends, and I had lost family, but it never felt quite like I did when I lost Bob. I don't think I slept at all that night. I couldn't bare to go to my day job the following morning. I called them and told them I had caught the flu, and that I might not be there for a day or two. I couldn't get any information about what was going on. I didn't know his family, so I couldn't call them. I had to read in the obituary where the services were going to be held. I dressed for the funeral the day he was buried, I drove to the church where the services were. But I could not bare to get out of the car. I didn't know anybody there. So I couldn't go in for the services. But I did watch as he was put into the ground. Nobody from the church came to that.    

That evening I went to a redneck bar, drank multiple beers, and ran my mouth at anybody who looked at me wrong. Needless to say I ended up in a fight and got my ass kicked all over the bar by several people, and then I got to spend a couple hours in jail with those same people. That wasn't fun.    

It wasn't fair, I couldn't tell a soul what was wrong with me. It damn sure wasn't the flu, and it wasn't a bad attitude. When I went back to work, my boss asked me if I was on drugs. He said I wasn't the same person I was last week. I guess I just never really realized just how much I did love Bob until he was gone.    

A month went by and I turned in my notice at work, packed up all my stuff and headed northeast toward the mountains. I moved to a city In another state, and started over again. I lived there until just recently when I moved a little further north to Tennessee. I've remained single since that August.    

(Mr. Shorts, I cried my eyes out typing this story.)