I'm an only child, and my father had passed away years ago. I grew up with my mother, who was very understanding and gave me my space and freedom. She gave me a weekly allowance that I knew how to manage well. Additionally, on some days, I worked at a newsstand where I earned some extra income for my expenses. It was at this newsstand that I discovered pornographic magazines, which excited me brutally. I looked at them, regardless of the theme, but I discovered that gay-themed stories and accounts excited me even more. I was surprised to find myself masturbating, imagining fantasies with other men, and it was exciting for me. The day before the story I'm about to tell, it was my birthday, and I turned 16. During the celebration, which was on a Saturday, some of my gifts were amounts of money that people gave me. With this money and my other income, I gathered a nice amount and was able to plan my day for the next day, Sunday. As I usually did once a month on Sundays, my plan was to go to the San Antonio market to buy some used books, eat a couple of sandwiches, and later go to a nearby movie theater to watch a movie. I did just that and headed to the market. I spent some time browsing and acquiring some interesting books until I came across a stall with three volumes of war novels, a genre that I enjoyed. I asked about the price, and although it would be ridiculous by today's standards, at the time, it seemed a bit steep to me. I decided to keep browsing and wait until closing time, when prices are usually reduced. When it was closing time, I approached the stall again to inquire about the books, but they were already being packed up. The owner and an Arabic-looking assistant, about 45 to 50 years old, were putting away the merchandise. When I asked about the books, he told me they were already stored and that I should come back the following Sunday. I was very disappointed. Following my plan, I went to eat my sandwiches. On my way, I passed by the stall again, which was now closed, and saw the Arabic assistant with two carts loaded with books to take to the warehouse. Suddenly, I heard him calling me, saying, "Hey, kid, come here." I approached him, and he proposed that if I helped him transport one of the carts to the warehouse, he would find the books for me and give them to me as a gift. It seemed like a great deal to me, and I didn't hesitate for a moment. I agreed to help him. The day was hot, and the cart was very heavy, and despite the warehouse being close, I was sweating incredibly. The warehouse was large but also very hot. "Get cool," he said, taking off his shirt. I felt so sweaty that I didn't hesitate to do the same. He offered me a glass of Coca-Cola and added some gin to it. He also lit a cigarette and offered it to me. I didn't drink liquor or smoke, but to be polite, since he was going to give me the books, I drank and smoked. After a while, the effects started to take hold of me. Years later, I found out that the cigarette con...