over there?" He pointed. "DVDs.
The one on the left is the mainstream stuff. The one on the right is the porn.
Help yourself."
I stared
at the cabinets for a full five minutes before I tiptoed over and opened the
one on the right. Leaning in, I ran my fingers over the top row of DVD cases,
half-expecting them to singe my fingers. When that didn't happen, I pulled one
out and studied the cover. An exotic brunette was offering her enormous breasts
to me.
"Huh,"
I said, maybe out loud, and replaced it.
The
entire top shelf was devoted to similar DVDs of big boobed women, all arranged in alphabetical order by title. As I examined each one, I
kept wondering what Clark would think. Or Mom. I squatted down to get a better
view of the second shelf's contents. The first title was Bi and Beyond. There was a man on the cover, no two—both naked except for
their well-packed jockstraps—and, oh yes, a woman.
Guiltily,
I peeked back over my shoulder, half-expecting Mom to be standing there.
Snickering nervously, I replaced it, surprised that almost every title on the
shelf began with the word "Bi." Bi-Bi Love, Bi-Coastal, Bi- Ology ,
Bi-Racial Romps, The Bi- Onic Sisters, right down to Bi- Zarre Bazaar. Unable
to choose, I stared at the five finalists in my lap. That's when I remembered
the third shelf.
As if I
didn't already have an embarrassment of riches from which to choose, I reached
for the first DVD on that third shelf. It was called All American Boys, and the
two hunky teenagers embracing on the cover left no doubt as to what it was all
about. Hastily, I replaced all the bisexual titles and began to peruse every
single disc in this new category.
It wasn't
long before I found the one that unquestionably demanded to be my introduction
to porn. It was called Rest
Stop Blowjobs.
In my
room, the DVD player and the TV rested side by side on a bureau opposite the
foot of the four-poster. I inserted the disc, flopped down, and settled in to
watch.
The movie
started with this hunky blond guy pulling his convertible off the highway into
a rest stop. When he got out of his car, you could see he was wearing a blue
tank top, faded cutoffs, and sneakers. Reminded me a little bit of Clark.
Within seconds, he was in the men's room, standing at a urinal, back to the
camera, which was focused on his cute little butt. Could have been Clark's. The blond's hand went directly to his crotch, and his arm
began to move rhythmically. Although couldn't see what he was doing, you knew.
At least, I did.
Pretty
soon, a macho marine in dress blues sauntered in and marched right up to the
urinal next to the blond. They sized each other up for maybe five seconds
before zeroing in on each other's package. That's when the camera cut to a
close-up of what they were ogling. Both were very well endowed, and their dicks
practically filled the screen. I wondered briefly how the cameraman managed to
get this head-on shot through the bathroom wall, but not for long, because I
was soon distracted by what they were doing.
The
marine took off his white dress cap, tossed it away, and squatted down. The
camera moved in closer and closer as he eased nearer and nearer to the blonds
waiting hard-on. It twitched, and the jarhead dove forward to sample it.
I flipped
over on my stomach and twisted around so my head was now at the foot of the bed
to get a closer view. By then, the blond was kneeling in front of the marine to
reciprocate. Little by little, he took the jarhead's erection into his mouth
until it completely disappeared. Clark and I learned later that this was known
as deep- throating , but right then I was so engrossed,
I couldn't have cared less what they called it.
Frankly,
it was all kind of spooky, because in the close-ups of the blond going at it,
he looked more like Clark than ever. It wasn't long b efore I closed my eyes to try and imagine that I was the
marine.
When I opened
them, the scene was over and the blond guy was driving out of the rest
The one on the left is the mainstream stuff. The one on the right is the porn.
Help yourself."
I stared
at the cabinets for a full five minutes before I tiptoed over and opened the
one on the right. Leaning in, I ran my fingers over the top row of DVD cases,
half-expecting them to singe my fingers. When that didn't happen, I pulled one
out and studied the cover. An exotic brunette was offering her enormous breasts
to me.
"Huh,"
I said, maybe out loud, and replaced it.
The
entire top shelf was devoted to similar DVDs of big boobed women, all arranged in alphabetical order by title. As I examined each one, I
kept wondering what Clark would think. Or Mom. I squatted down to get a better
view of the second shelf's contents. The first title was Bi and Beyond. There was a man on the cover, no two—both naked except for
their well-packed jockstraps—and, oh yes, a woman.
Guiltily,
I peeked back over my shoulder, half-expecting Mom to be standing there.
Snickering nervously, I replaced it, surprised that almost every title on the
shelf began with the word "Bi." Bi-Bi Love, Bi-Coastal, Bi- Ology ,
Bi-Racial Romps, The Bi- Onic Sisters, right down to Bi- Zarre Bazaar. Unable
to choose, I stared at the five finalists in my lap. That's when I remembered
the third shelf.
As if I
didn't already have an embarrassment of riches from which to choose, I reached
for the first DVD on that third shelf. It was called All American Boys, and the
two hunky teenagers embracing on the cover left no doubt as to what it was all
about. Hastily, I replaced all the bisexual titles and began to peruse every
single disc in this new category.
It wasn't
long before I found the one that unquestionably demanded to be my introduction
to porn. It was called Rest
Stop Blowjobs.
In my
room, the DVD player and the TV rested side by side on a bureau opposite the
foot of the four-poster. I inserted the disc, flopped down, and settled in to
watch.
The movie
started with this hunky blond guy pulling his convertible off the highway into
a rest stop. When he got out of his car, you could see he was wearing a blue
tank top, faded cutoffs, and sneakers. Reminded me a little bit of Clark.
Within seconds, he was in the men's room, standing at a urinal, back to the
camera, which was focused on his cute little butt. Could have been Clark's. The blond's hand went directly to his crotch, and his arm
began to move rhythmically. Although couldn't see what he was doing, you knew.
At least, I did.
Pretty
soon, a macho marine in dress blues sauntered in and marched right up to the
urinal next to the blond. They sized each other up for maybe five seconds
before zeroing in on each other's package. That's when the camera cut to a
close-up of what they were ogling. Both were very well endowed, and their dicks
practically filled the screen. I wondered briefly how the cameraman managed to
get this head-on shot through the bathroom wall, but not for long, because I
was soon distracted by what they were doing.
The
marine took off his white dress cap, tossed it away, and squatted down. The
camera moved in closer and closer as he eased nearer and nearer to the blonds
waiting hard-on. It twitched, and the jarhead dove forward to sample it.
I flipped
over on my stomach and twisted around so my head was now at the foot of the bed
to get a closer view. By then, the blond was kneeling in front of the marine to
reciprocate. Little by little, he took the jarhead's erection into his mouth
until it completely disappeared. Clark and I learned later that this was known
as deep- throating , but right then I was so engrossed,
I couldn't have cared less what they called it.
Frankly,
it was all kind of spooky, because in the close-ups of the blond going at it,
he looked more like Clark than ever. It wasn't long b efore I closed my eyes to try and imagine that I was the
marine.
When I opened
them, the scene was over and the blond guy was driving out of the rest
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