It was 1994. God, I was such a skater.
What else could there have been in life? Nirvana, Mossimo, Vans and Eddie Bauer flannels. In Michigan there's shit else to do in a world before internet or cell-phones. Unless, of course, it's winter and the girlfriends are on some class ski trip in Aspen. Then there's nothing but listening to Smashing Pumpkins and beating off. My parents both at work down at the plant, it was all I could do to sit on the old, busted orange couch in the basement near the furnace, reading porn magazines I had gone through a thousand times and wishing I could score a dime of pot. My best friend threw his muddied feet up onto the trunk that served as my coffee table.
"Right here," Eric said, brandishing a Hustler tape in-hand. I couldn't read the title because his hand was covering it but it was obvious it was an old 70's-era family love video.
I shrugged.
"This one is hot, dickhead. I figure while the girls are away, we can at least get on with our old bullshit, you know?"
I kept reading, pretending not to be interested but the reality is that I was intrigued. When Eric and I were 12, that was one thing. I mean we had scrawny little bodies and our dicks were both ridiculously small, we laughed at the huge cocks of the guys on the screen and when the girls came, we splattered all over ourselves and made fun of each other about it. But we were 19, now. Things were -- different.
I glanced him from the corner of my eye. "You're such a fag," I laughed.
He slapped me on the arm, "You'd know, Mary!"
I laughed, again. Eric had been my best friend since we were seven. We supported one another through some awkward years. Puberty was the least of it. Dating girls, barely passing high school, graduating, getting out first job at old man Travis' construction company. Moving up in the world to making pizza at the Fair Lanes. Bowling, drinking, laughing. And now -- unemployed and without any desire to do anything but get fucked up and skate till I broke something.
I'd shared everything with Eric. My first beer, my first love, my first paycheck. Why was I so nervous about his putting this rickety old tape into my VCR?
I got up and climbed the stairs to where, sure enough, Eric had left the door unlocked. Eric didn't worry about privacy. His Mom had taken off when he was a baby and his dad was drunk when he wasn't working. Sometimes when he was.
When I came back downstairs, Eric's flannel shirt was open and so were his pants. He had pulled his T-shirt up around his neck, exposing his washboard abs. Eric shaved hairless. I couldn't figure out why. It's not like he's a swimmer or something. He just did it. Weird.
He was rubbing his cock through his boxer shorts, already warming up even though the only action on the screen was still cheesy 70's foreplay.
"I'm in the tub, ma!" said the boy on the TV who couldn't have been 5 years younger than the teased-hair bimbo playing "Ma".
"There's nothing you've got that I haven't seen before, son!" Said 'Ma'.
"Jesus!" I muttered as I went to the old refrigerator and grabbed us a couple of Millers. I didn't need to ask if Eric wanted one. I just cracked the top off of it for him.
I came back to the couch and crossed in front of Eric.
"Dude!" He complained.
I set his beer down on the trunk. I took a long swig of mine and went back to my mag.
"Hey, aren't you going to watch this?" Eric shot at me.
"What? You beating off? No, thanks." I said. Dude, I'm a straight guy and Eric knows that. Hell, he and I were dating girls who were on vacation together! This whole thing is beyond weird -- it's raising questions about my best friend.
"You would, you queen," he said, grabbing my ear and giving it a tug between his fingers.
"Watch it!" I said, "Dude! Is that the hand you were just touching your needle-dick with? Gross!"
"Mommy, I want you to take a bath with me," said the poor drug addict who would do anything to score some smack, even be in this shitty porno. He's probably dead, now.
"But, you're my son! Don't be a pervo, Joshua!"
'Pervo'? The fuck? What drove this guy to do something so degrading? Why was he so hard playing roleplay about fucking his Mom? Why was I watching? Why was my cock getting hard?
I didn't dare look at Eric. I could tell from the sound that his hand was down his shorts and on his meat. I did know Eric wasn't circumcised, his Dad was a Jew-hater of the sheet-wearing variety and said no son of his was going to go through life looking like some God-killer. Whatever, but it made Eric's self-loving pretty noisy. And remarkably wet, I remember noticing all those years ago.
I stood up and pulled the chain of the single lightbulb in the room. I expected a response from Eric but all I heard was the sound of the elastic band of his boxers coming down and then the faint sound of his foreskin as he yanked, unhindered by clothing.
I sat on the couch and waited it out. Out of the corner of my eye, the light from the TV gave me a pretty good glimpse of Eric's penis.
I guess I was expecting it to be huge? Eric had grown into such a man, he worked hard, he played hard, he was super responsible with money and shit, much more than I was. I kinda looked up to him. I guess I always assumed his had grown more than mine over the years.
Suddenly he stopped. Had he cum? I didn't think so. "Dude, you're making me feel like a fucking perv," he muttered.
