Hank was growing on me. I knew he liked my company and that was important if I was ever to get out of here. I also realized he was attracted to me-- even if he said he didn't like white men. I knew he was.

I found myself getting dressed for him, wearing something that fit perfectly. I worked out in the morning, just before my session -- so my muscles were still pumped and there was still just a bit of sweat on my neck, my forehead. I knew he noticed -- not by anything he did, but my own instincts.

He wanted me. I smiled.

"What do you think of a group session, Eric?" he asked.

"Well, I've always wanted to try a group," I grinned and stared right at him. Hank smiled back, he knew exactly what I meant.

"I'm surprised with your track record, you haven't tried a group yet, Eric. But this isn't that kind of group, it's about why you're here, why you need to focus in on what matters-- on what's going to get you out of here."

I feigned regret.

"Hank, I'm sorry. I was joking, of course, if you think I should try a group session, I'm more than willing. I just want to get well, Hank. That's the only thing that matters," I said.

And in my head, I thought -- "Yeah, that and your dick in my hand, Hank. That's the only thing that matters."

He stared at me again. " Eric, watch out. You're only fooling yourself and the last laugh is a nasty one when you're looking in the mirror."

He wanted me.

*****

The group was fabulous! Eight men, all worthy of some awesome sex.

Oh, yeah yeah yeah -- I was supposed to be all honest and vulnerable and confess my sins... bullshit on that! I wanted these guys, all of them -- on me, in me -- over me.

And they couldn't help but sense my need. They stared right back. I knew I was throwing them all off guard. They were nervous, sensing the sexual tension in the room, the moment I walked in.

The group leader, an older daddy type smiled at me...

"Guys, this is Eric. He's new so be gentle the first time."

"No way," I said. "I love it rough." But no one laughed.

A young guy around 25 with deep blue eyes and blond hair, a Brad Pitt look-alike, stared and finally spoke, "You think you're pretty hot stuff, don'cha Eric? Well, check it at the door, 'cause that's not what we're about. We ain't no bathhouse!"

Whoa -- this kid was angry.

And I thought, "I'm in love."