I didn't think my volunteer activities would lead me to my current situation. With the arrival of Maghrebi immigrants in my city, I had offered to help a local NGO by teaching Spanish to those who arrived and were distributed to places far from the coast. After a few months, during which I had managed to establish friendships with young people my age, I met Abdel, who was a bit older, around 40.

Naturally, with age, Abdel found it harder to keep up with the younger ones. So, his questions were thoughtful, and my attention became a priority. As we would cross paths on the street, it became habitual for our conversation to extend, and I would invite him to a coffee or tea at a terrace.

One day, I found him chatting with a group of his colleagues, and I noticed certain mocking and teasing attitudes towards me.

At the end of the class the next day, Abdel approached me and apologized in a way. When I tried to clarify, he told me that they came from a very macho culture and that I, being educated and kind, "could be gay." I blushed. I didn't know how to react. "Today, I'll invite you to tea," he said, friendly. With the tea in front of us, he explained that in his culture, it wasn't uncommon for men to have sexual relationships with young men without it implying a homosexual tendency. It could happen because living with women was more complicated or simply due to lust.

My thoughts had a thousand arguments for what he was telling me, but all of them corresponded to my reality, not his. And, truthfully, the conversation was exciting me.

The politically correct thing would have been to end it with a "Don't worry, I don't have any problem with that." But I added: "I am gay, and I'm already used to certain reactions." That's how the conversation ended that day.

Weeks passed, and everything seemed "forgotten," but Abdel sought out personal conversation again and, beating around the bush, told me he didn't want me to take everything he had told me the wrong way. Neither of us spoke clearly, but I thought I couldn't miss what seemed like an opportunity, and I invited him to dinner at my place whenever he was available. His face lit up, I think, and we set a date and conditions, which didn't include rejecting alcohol, by the way.

It was a hot spring, and I was wearing little clothing, shorts and a tank top, and he was also wearing an open shirt that revealed a hairy and powerful chest, very masculine.

We dined, drank, and shared anecdotes about the Spanish classes and our colleagues. Already with a whisky glass in hand, on the sofa, I dared to ask him if he had ever "played" with a young man in his country. The alcohol consumed made his response direct as well, affirming it.

I took the next step. I told him that some straight men I had been with said that gays sucked better than their girlfriends and wives, who were more prudish. Abdel said he had a big one and that when they sucke...