This probably can be posted on other threads but for me day one, gym class as a fourteen-year-old freshman in high school was a day I won't forget. I had managed to change quickly into my gym clothes unseen, shielded by a open locker door. That first day our class had been introduced to our short stocky gym teacher who's looks and demeanor reminded us all of Sargent Hulka from the movie Stripes. From his attitude, he apparently didn't think my tall gangly physique offered much potential to his other duties as the schools varsity wrestling coach. With a military bark he ordered us into the showers, implying if we didn't shower en masse it was the stockade.
O.K. From it's buried position, folded under my balls in my jockstrap, out came dick like a phallic accordian, flopping wildly as I raced into the steaming hot water of the group showers. Once there my heretofor humble athletic status was replaced with envy, awe and wonderment. I became "horsedick", "tripod" and "third-leg", all very cliche but my high school never had the reputation of graduating Pulitzer and Nobel Laureats. Though I am 100% hetero, hovering under the hot water took its toll- the damn thing began reeling out even longer. Withering under the remarks from my so-called buddies I retreated to my locker, which seemed to be the length of a football field away and past the coach's station.
Just as I reached the end of a row of lockers and began to make a right turn I came face to face with a newly familiar figure wearing a grey t-shirt, whistle hanging over an incipient beer belly, a perfectly round head with close-cropped hair.
Sargent Hulka! He stopped dead in his tracks as if a UFO or other apparition had appeared before him. He stared straight ahead but his eyes darted wildly to my offending organ. In moments I had passed.
After that I always chose to believe I had risen a few degrees in his estimation.