It was New Year's Eve, 2002. I was up in Glasgow, where I'd lived until I was 18. We get together ever year, myself and a load of the old school crowd, to get pissed up and see in the New Year. It's a tradition, and one I've not missed out on despite moving to Liverpool.
As usual, I turned up as soon after Christmas as I could manage. Each year the folks who are still local offer crash-space to the out of towners. This year I'd ended up crashing with a guy called Tom. I sort of knew him, but we'd not been in the same circles at school. He'd been a jock, I'd not. We'd spent six or seven New Years together and not spoken much, but my usual bed had fallen through due to the couple I stayed with having kids and stuff.
Tom was clean shaven, red haired. Still well built, despite being in his late 20's and having a desk-job. He had a quirky grin, and I was pleased to discover that he shared my liking for recreational cannabis use. We'd spent the tail- end of 2002 getting smashed and stoned and chatting. He had a different immediate-circle of friends to mine, and I met a lot of them in a drunken haze. I noticed they were all men, but thought nothing much of it.
There'd been a few incidents as well. The first morning I was there, I came out of the spare room at his flat to have an early morning piss in my boxers, and walked in on Tom emptying his bladder. I backed straight out as soon as I realised, but I also got a good look at his prick - it was fat, and half awake with early Morning Glory, with thick frizzy red pubes round it. He had his sleeping trousers hooked underneath it, his balls looked firm under their dense, dark red fur. I stood outside in the hall, listening to him piss, my throat dry, trying to apologise for walking in. He thought it was funny. He said he'd need to get the lock on the toilet door fixed some time. He came out and stood in the hall, and we kept chatting while I took a whizz, planning a day of drinking. I had a real problem because I had a half-lob on, and it took me twice as long as usual to piss. If Tom hadn't been in the hall, I would have jerked off there and then.
There was also an incident with some porn; it was the 30th December, we were back from the pub drunk and still drinking whiskey. About three in the morning the others went home, and because the television was shit Tom suggested sticking a video on his old VHS machine. I picked something at random and it turned out not to be "Braveheart" but a fuck-flick instead. Not a bad one. Tom and I watched it and took the mickey, but even drunk as I was I noticed that Tom kept talking about the cocks, not the cunts, on the screen.
After half an hour he stood up unsteadily and said he was off to have a wank, slurring his words badly and barely able to stay upright. He stood there for what I thought was a little bit too long, as if waiting for me to say something, then he staggered off to his room. I stayed where I was and watched the rest of the porno, having a pull on his sofa. I felt dirty and horny, and half wanted him to come in and find me at it. The porno ended, after I'd spunked into a handful of tissue, but I was too wasted to do much about it. Then the static on the screen ended and I was very surprised to see a guy being fucked in the face by two male coppers. My dick twitched again, and I sat up. The straight porno was taped over a gay porno. There was only five minutes of it, but I rewound the tape and watched it again, and soon had another raging boner, which I relieved hot and fast, and came as the cops on the screen were hosing their prisoner in the face with their own jizz.
I rewound the tape and went to bed, wondering about that hot gay porn. The next day was New Years Eve, and we were meeting the rest of the gang. Tom, more for a laugh than anything else, was wearing a kilt, complete with sporran and white socks. We all took the mickey out of him a bit. As the night went on, we got drunker and one of the girls asked him if he was a "proper Scotsman" and he just turned round, leant over and flipped the back of his kilt up showing his naked, slightly hairy arse to her! I was looking right over when it happened and I got my second look at his prick and his ball-sack. The girl was all shocked and giggly, but when Tom stood up he looked right over to see what my reaction was and for a moment we held eye contact and then we got on with the party.
The party broke up about one because of a row between our hosts; it was impossible to get a taxi, so Tom and I had to walk the two-miles or so to Tom's building. There was a lot of good-natured shouting, and it was obvious parties were going on elsewhere still. We were both a little the worse for wear, and ended up supporting each other as we reeled home. I could smell the sweat, beer and smoke smell of Tom, and it was driving me wild.
