I loved swimming but hated the communal changing room. I sat at my usual spot, which was as far from the entrance to the pool as possible. I waited uneasily, hoping that my solitude wouldn't be interrupted. After five minutes had passed, I began to feel more relaxed. Nobody else had sought out such an unfavourable spot.

I was self-conscious of my body. Despite recently turning seventeen, I had the body of an adolescent boy: slightly built, hairless except for a faint covering of pubic hair, and an annoyingly small penis. There was nothing physically wrong: medical tests had proven so, and I'd gone through puberty, but my enduring boyishness had brought about inhibition.

My lack of sexual attraction was also causing concern. During my five years at secondary school, I'd experienced no sexual desires. The sole physical contact with a girl had been a slow dance at a school disco, aged twelve. Other than the fact her body exuded an incredible amount of heat—she had been well-developed for her age—it was a mundane experience.

Two years later, with my sexuality still stubbornly dormant, I seriously considered that my preference lay with my own sex. This consideration, however, resulted in unpleasant consequences.

My eye lingered on the body of a classmate as we showered after P.E. Unfortunately, my observation didn't go unnoticed. The following day I was cornered by three vitriolic peers.

"Stop eyeing us up in the showers, queer boy, or you will get some of this,' the leader spat, pushing his clenched fist against my cheek.

I meekly adhered to the warning. Fortunately, the small group of misfits I fraternised with were indifferent to my perceived 'queerness.' All four of them had experienced similar hostility to a more or lesser degree. One in particular, Iain, had been mercilessly bullied for years due to his weight. My problems were trivial in comparison.

I was experiencing some sexual pleasure. With manual stimulation, my inconsequential penis was capable of both erection and ejaculation but spontaneous arousal was unattainable.

During the last year of my schooling, I reached the stage where I accepted my inadequacy. It came as a blessed relief. The doctor had assured me that, in time, I would experience a growth spurt, so I chose patience over restiveness.

However, six months after leaving school, my patience expired. I was attending college, surrounded by nubile contemporaries but still no sexual attraction touched me. I needed an outlet to vent my frustrations and that's where swimming came in. In the water, I felt at ease. I was anonymous and unbound. The exertion also released, temporarily at least, the knotted feeling within me. Every Tuesday afternoon for the previous four months, I'd spent an hour in my watery haven. The only downside was the dreaded communal changing room.

I had removed most of my clothing. Only a thin t-shirt and my boxers, which were hidden beneath a towel, remained. I had put one foot through the leg of my swimming trunks when I heard inauspicious sounds: slip, slop, slip, slop.

My heart quickened. I urgently pulled up my trunks before sitting down, my back facing the approaching presence. I shrunk nervously into myself and feigned preoccupation.

It was the sound of jaunty humming that broke my reserve. The tone was masculine. I intuitively turned my head.

The man was vigorously drying his hair and was therefore unaware of my observation. He was stockily built. Thick black hair covered his torso; his skin, which glistened, was deeply tanned. The muscularity of his arms and shoulders was apparent as the muscles flexed. His broad nipples stood proud.

My penis twitched.

I turned away as he began the task of drying his hairy torso. I felt my cheeks flush as my penis stiffened. My heart palpitated and a faint tingle ran over my skin. I noticed my palms were sweaty, which provoked a nervous smile to break out.

The man's jaunty humming continued. I could no longer resist the urge to look, so I took a glimpse.

He was leaning forward and rubbing his powerful legs. The man was older than I'd first thought: in his early forties was my guess. My penis was now fully erect. I instinctively loosened the towel around my waist before reason stopped me. I wasn't thinking clearly; my mind was muddled.

As the man stood tall, I looked into his eyes: they were blue, beautifully so.

My erection throbbed. I felt wetness soak through the towel as precum oozed from my vibrant glans.

The man smiled at me; my heart fluttered. His features were more rugged than handsome, but his appeal was beyond doubt.

As he hooked his thumb and forefinger into the hem of his swimming shorts, I fought the urge to masturbate and release my desire. I gulped involuntarily.

As his shorts fell around his ankles, my heart pounded, and a sheen of perspiration coated my skin.

I was beguiled by the sight of his flaccid penis. Its shaft was long and meaty, the foreskin loose and crinkled. His bulbous balls hung low, the area matted by thick dark hair.

My observation was now blatant, but the man's jaunty tune was unchanged.

As my orgasm neared its climax, my eyes screwed shut; my mouth opened slightly and an imperceptible moan was emitted. Waves of muscular contractions increased before a sudden jolt resulted in an intense ejaculation. A heady rapture swept over me. I instinctively covered my face with my hands, muffling moans of pleasure.

I felt warm, my cheeks were flushed. I turned hesitantly and caught a final glimpse of the man's genitalia before it was covered by denim. A t-shirt then covered his manly torso.

Without thinking, I smiled coyly at him—and he smiled back.

'Have a good one,' he said affably.

'I will,' I replied breathlessly.

A warm sensual feeling flowed over me as I watched him depart. All the years of anguish over my lack of sexual desire were washed away forever.

Later, it would dawn on me that desire had always lain within, but it simply hadn't been sparked. It was the body of a man that had ignited my arousal. The underdeveloped bodies I'd glimpsed in the showers at school were pale shadows of the fully grown version.

I was gay, homosexual. The label didn't matter.

The Penny had dropped.