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Nicka drinks too much and gets molested and more.

And so I decided to get another magazine. On the back cover, there was an address for the store that had sold the book. It was right here in Chicago. In the Old Town section. I determined to go there the next day.

The Bookstore

Old Town was a pretty raunchy area in those days. It had a few nice restaurants and clubs; but a lot of it was XXX rated theaters, strip clubs, gay bars - and adult book stores. I found the book store that had sold my magazine. It was a bland, dark storefront with opaque windows and metal grating on the windows and door. I entered warily and was immediately confronted by a rather dirty, unkempt man sitting behind a four-foot internal wall to the right of the entrance.

"Hi boy, what you lookin' for?" He demanded.

"I . . .I just wanted to look at some magazines." I stammered.

"Can't let you boy. You gotta be at least eighteen or I lose my license if I'm caught with you in here."

"I . . .I am eighteen." I burbled and produced my ID.

"Well, okay, boy." The clerk smiled. "Magazines for boys like you are in the back of the store."

"Thank you, sir." I answered and hurried towards the back of the store.

I passed racks of magazines sporting naked women or hetero couples on the covers. There was a doorway to a separate room at the back of the store. The sign above the doorway read: "Gay and Lesbian Erotica." That clerk had just assumed by looking at me that I was gay! I ought to go back there and set the bastard straight! But then again, this is why I came here - to find out. No! To assert my heterosexuality by proving that these gay magazines wouldn't affect me!

I peeked my head inside the doorway. There was no one in the room. I glanced around furtively and then quickly entered the room. The room was long and narrow. There were racks on both of the long walls; books and VCR tapes (I told you this was the '70's!) on the back wall and magazines on the near wall. There was a very small section of lesbian magazines near the doorway. About two-thirds of the wall was filled with magazines of young men; alone, together, generally naked, generally performing sex acts. I picked up a few and glanced through them. Disturbingly, I began to get aroused by the pictures. Before I could get a full hard-on, I moved further down the wall.

The last third of the wall was magazines of older men with younger men. I stopped in front of one titled "Daddies & Twinks." I stared at the cover and my cock immediately went hard. The cover was similar to that of my first magazine. It depicted a Daddy standing behind his smaller twink. The Daddy's arms were around the twink. One hand cupped the boy's ass-cheek, obviously squeezing it; the other hand cupped the boy's cock and balls. The Daddy's mouth was buried in the boy's neck. The look on the boy's face was a combination of lust and fear. A caption screamed from under the photo: "This boy will be mine!"

With a slight groan, I removed the magazine from the rack with shaking hand. I was mesmerized! I began slowly turning pages. When I wasn't turning a page, my hand found its way between my legs, massaging my now erect cock.

After a while I realized that I was no longer alone in the room. There was a man in the room. An older man; maybe in his forties or fifties. I don't know; it's always been hard for me to tell people's ages. He was maybe five-eleven, stocky build, military-style crewcut. He was dressed in a suit and tie and had on an open trench coat. He smelled like he had taken a bath in Old Spice. I didn't know how long he had been there, but in a panic I realized that he might have seen me playing with myself. I avoided eye contact and grasped my open magazine with both hands, scared stiff and not moving a muscle.

He slowly worked his way down the wall till he was standing right next to me.

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