Coach Bergman grabbed my naked ass cheek and said, “Look at you. Your butt is all fat. You gotta put some muscle on back here.”
I'm not sure if I had a reply for him. What do you say when your junior high basketball coach feels your ass in the locker room? If I could go back in time, I'd say something, like, “Take your hand off my ass, please, unless you want to get in even more deep shit for fondling a minor child's butt. And if you ever feel me up again, I'm gonna be the one in deep shit for beating the crap out of your pockmarked face, you fucking pervert.”
I guess you can say I still have a problem with the times adults took advantage of my young ass, so to speak. I wonder how Coach would feel if I, a grown man, went up and felt his son or nephew's butt?
That was the first time I felt self-conscious about my ass, but not the last. Doesn't help when you grow up in locker rooms surrounded by a bunch of white kids with pale toned butts outlined by deep summer tans. I was never proud of my ass. Hell, how can a boy who feels like a sick fag feel be proud of any of his body parts?
I'm all grown up now, and so is my ass, especially since I'm making an effort to build a better butt--tighter, firmer, more athletic. Between lunges and my Trikke, I'm falling in love with my ass more and more.
The best part: I'm doing it for me, so I can enjoy my ass, and let others of my choosing enjoy it, too. (Buddy, are you out there?) I'm an ass man. I've always been an ass man. Now, I love looking behind me, feeling myself up and saying, “Nice ass.”