I was on the phone with my friend recently, and he decided to share a funny life story. He thinks I should record them for him, and I think he secretly hopes it will motivate me to write. Here's his first story. I've taken some creative license with the story to fill in the imaginary gaps and protect his identity ;-)
Several things occur when a young man reaches the end of his adolescence. His body is the most conspicuous representation of this event. Bones continue to elongate, fat dissolves from the limbs and physiques become more lean and strong. Hormones begin to course through the bloodstream at a more consistent and regulated rate, and the pitch of voice becomes what it will inevitably remain for the rest of one's life. While there is a clear physical transformation, the mind remains consumed with thoughts of sex.
No young man is exempt from this simple truth. The pursuit and receipt of sexual gratification, in any form available, is the most desired outcome on any day of the week. This matter is especially imperative for young men nearing the end of adolescence, because most of them are preoccupied with sex, but have never actually experienced it. As a result, they are more desperate and foolish than males who belong to younger and older age groups.
My friend was not exempt from this simple truth. Here's his story:
It was a humid afternoon. It had rained all morning and I was just arriving home when I received an unexpected telephone call. Angela, a girl who I had been eagerly pursuing in response to my primal urges, called with a request. Her voice vibrated with a tension that I had never heard before. It had an urgency that made me remove the receiver from my ear and blink repeatedly. She asked me to come over to her house and hang out. In my mind's eye, I could see her glossed lips pressed close to the receiver, parting gently to sigh in between each word. I could see the tip of her pink tongue darting out and licking the corner of her mouth. I could see her smile...and then I began to feel this familiar ache in my groin.
She said, "My mother's at work, and I have the house to myself. You should come over." Again, I removed the receiver from my ear and stared at it, dumbfounded. Me? She wants ME to come over? I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. Angela had an unsavory reputation for being promiscuous at school, and I admit that was one of the main reasons why I was obsessed with her. The way I saw it, a girl with a compromised or absent set of morals was more likely to have sex with me, than one who had morals solidly in tact. The fact that she was the teenage mother of a toddler was even more evidence, to my horny brain, that she was a guaranteed "home run," should I ever get the chance.
"What about your son?" I asked breathlessly. I honestly didn't care where he was, I just didn't know what else to say. I could feel the arm pits of my t-shirt grow damp with my perspiration.
"He's down for a nap. He'll sleep for at least an hour." The urgency was still in her voice. Did she need it as badly as I did? The ache began to spread across me, and I felt short of breath. I imagined her flirtatiously crossing her legs while fidgeting with her bamboo earrings. Sweet Jesus.
I responded, "...I'll be right there."
She responded, "...Hurry up." And then she hung up the phone.
Again, I stared at the phone receiver. I returned it to the cradle, did the moonwalk across the kitchen floor and then ran to my room to prepare for what I imagined was going to be the greatest afternoon of my life. I was nervous and excited at the same time. I brushed my teeth and washed my face. I brushed my hair and reapplied lotion to every inch of my body. I then ceremoniously placed my Dad's cologne on my neck, the backs of my knees and my testicles. After all, with her experience, I had high hopes for my first sexual encounter.
I put my clothes back on, placed a condom in my pocket and all but ran to Angela's house.
The front door was ajar when I arrived. I stood there, watching the flies whip in and out of the doorway. In that moment, I lost my resolve. This open door, and quite possibly Angela's open legs, could potentially lead to nothing but trouble for me. And then, that familiar ache took over my weak conscience. Angela then appeared at the door in some impossibly tiny denim shorts and a tank top. She stood there in a defiant stance while eviscerating a red Popsicle. Dear God.
My mouth watered as I surveyed her landscape.
My eyes fell on her neck, sweaty with perspiration from the heat. I imagined that her skin would feel warm and dewy under my fingertips. The moisture appeared to bead down her neck, pool near her clavicle and spill into her cleavage. I always had such admiration for her breasts. I usually thought about them in Physics class. There was just something about Angela's breasts. They were full, but not too large. I imagined that they each fit perfectly into my hands. They were round and possessed a fullness unlike any other set I saw at school. It was as if they were more mature, as if they possessed a womanly fullness unknown to the average girl walking the halls of my high school.
It was only then that I realized that music was playing. Some Aaliyah track played just loudly enough to reach the street. I guess she was trying to set the mood for the inevitable. I pulled my gaze from her thighs long enough to lock eyes with her. She smiled and extended hand to me. I scaled the steps at lightening speed and followed her into the house. She closed and locked the door behind me.
I believed I was prepared for the preamble to sex. I had "made out" with my fair share of girls, and I was confident I could handle this level of intimacy. When she shoved me on the couch and straddled me, however, I instantly felt out of my depth. I didn't want her the think I wasn't up to the challenge, so I aggressively slapped her ample posterior and then held on for dear life. In that moment, Angela transformed into this hungry lioness before my very eyes. I was afraid. She tugged at my hair and bit my neck all while she writhed suggestively on my lap.
I was aroused and afraid.
We then engaged in some sloppy and haphazard french kissing. I used this time to allow my hands to do a great deal of exploring, and to collect my thoughts. She felt better than I imagined she would. When I kissed her neck, I breathed deep and attempted to commit memory the smell of her skin. Angela then abruptly stood up in front of me. Her engorged nipples straining against her top was the only indication that we had mutual intentions. She commanded, "take off your pants."
I didn't move. I was terrified.
Angela licked her bottom lip, and then repeated, "take. off. your. pants." I stood up in front of her to meet her gaze, and slowly removed my khakis. My erection pushed forcefully against my boxers. She glanced down and smiled in appreciation. I felt a great deal of relief when she did, because I was worried I might not impress her. She glanced up at me, placed her arms around my neck and said, "condom?"
I picked up my khakis and retrieved the condom I brought with me. Angela took it from my hand and inspected it briefly. For a moment, we stood there staring at each other. The sound of box fans could be heard pushing warm air across the living room. We had reached the moment we both wanted to happen. In an effort to prove my nonexistent sexual prowess, I placed the condom wrapper in my mouth and attempted to rip it open with my teeth. I had seen it done in a movie once, and I thought this trick would impress Angela. No one told me I could also rip a huge tear in the condom.
Shit. What was I thinking?
Wagging my finger through the new hole in the condom, I avoided Angela's gaze. She paced the living room, half naked and anxious. She said, "We don't have much time left, my mom will be home soon. If this is going to happen, it needs to happen now." I plopped down on the couch and tried to think of a solution. Suddenly, there was a faint cry from the rear bedroom. We locked eyes for a moment, knowing exactly what it was--her toddler was waking up from his afternoon nap. Angela dropped her head in resignation and lumbered toward the cry. I began picking up my belongings and getting dressed. This sexual extravaganza was obviously not happening.
The cry stopped abruptly as I was tying my shoes. Angela returned with a determined facial expression and a single latex glove. She sat down next to me on the couch and placed the glove on my knee. She gently said, "...maybe we can use this?" Seriously? What the hell was I going to do with a latex glove? Where was I going to put...everything? I immediately shook my head no, and she insisted that I try to put the glove on.
Holy shit, she's serious.
The truth is I was just as desperate as she was, so I excused my self to go the restroom. After several minutes of thought, maneuvering and accidentally popping myself in the testicles with the snapping latex, I gave up. I realized that in the future, every time I doctor approaches me with gloved hands, I am going to think of this moment. I remember having powder all over my hands as I tried to place my member into the thumb portion to no avail. I was beyond embarrassed. I dusted myself off, washed my hands and attempted to exit the bathroom with my last ounce of dignity.
Thankfully, Angela seemed very understanding about the whole situation. She hugged me tightly and kissed my cheek. I told her I would try to get another condom from my house and come back. She agreed, but warned me not to approach the house if her mother's car was in the drive way. After kissing her shoulder, I hastily exited the house in pursuit of another condom. I planned to check my brother's room for one to use.
I didn't anticipate that my father and one of the crazy neighbors would be conversing on my front porch that evening. I jogged up to the porch, hoping that my obvious haste would stop my Dad from asking the usual rhetorical questions, but I was wrong.
"Where you coming from?"
"Huh?"
"Come back here, I'm talking to you boy."
I was so close. I had my hand on the door knob.
"Huh?"
"What are you, deaf? Where are you coming from?"
"I was around the corner at Cory's house."
"Why are you sweating? Y'all run laps around the boy's back yard?"
My father's crazy friend, Roy, chuckled in response. He added, "You look like you've been running from the police. What did you do, boy?"
"I decided to jog back to the house, because I needed to use the bathroom," I explained.
"Cory doesn't have a working toilet at his house?"
"He does."
"So? Why come all the way to use the bathroom."
Roy chuckled again and added, "...ain't it obvious? He needs to shit, man."
There was no way I was going to get out of this easily, so I decided to run with that conclusion. Why not?
"Yes," I added eagerly. I began to shift eagerly from foot to foot. I cradled my stomach for emphasis. My father wasn't buying it, however. He cut his eyes really low, as if to indicate that he knew I was up to something. What it was, though, he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
"Go ahead, boy. Use the bathroom."
I feigned relief and eagerly jogged into the house. All I could think about was Angela, in those denim shorts, eagerly pacing back and forth across the living room. Waiting for me. The very thought of it gave new life to that ache I was trying to keep at bay. I sped into my older brother's room, hoping he had left some condoms behind when he moved. My heart knocked around in my chest as I searched all of his drawers. He had left for college a couple months ago, but I remained hopeful that I would find something. I reached his night stand, the last spot to check, and gingerly opened the drawer.
And I found nothing.
Feeling defeated, I sat down on the floor. Angry and sweaty, I tried to get a handle of the hormones coursing through my body and calm down. As much as it sucked to admit to myself, it just wasn't my time. Angela wasn't going to be my gateway across uncharted waters to manhood. Although I knew she was capable of doing so...it wasn't going to happen. I went back downstairs and sat on porch with my father and Roy. Listening to their banter, I watched as Angela's mother drove past us and turned the corner.
I should have given that latex glove another try.
I picked up my khakis and retrieved the condom I brought with me. Angela took it from my hand and inspected it briefly. For a moment, we stood there staring at each other. The sound of box fans could be heard pushing warm air across the living room. We had reached the moment we both wanted to happen. In an effort to prove my nonexistent sexual prowess, I placed the condom wrapper in my mouth and attempted to rip it open with my teeth. I had seen it done in a movie once, and I thought this trick would impress Angela. No one told me I could also rip a huge tear in the condom.
Shit. What was I thinking?
Wagging my finger through the new hole in the condom, I avoided Angela's gaze. She paced the living room, half naked and anxious. She said, "We don't have much time left, my mom will be home soon. If this is going to happen, it needs to happen now." I plopped down on the couch and tried to think of a solution. Suddenly, there was a faint cry from the rear bedroom. We locked eyes for a moment, knowing exactly what it was--her toddler was waking up from his afternoon nap. Angela dropped her head in resignation and lumbered toward the cry. I began picking up my belongings and getting dressed. This sexual extravaganza was obviously not happening.
The cry stopped abruptly as I was tying my shoes. Angela returned with a determined facial expression and a single latex glove. She sat down next to me on the couch and placed the glove on my knee. She gently said, "...maybe we can use this?" Seriously? What the hell was I going to do with a latex glove? Where was I going to put...everything? I immediately shook my head no, and she insisted that I try to put the glove on.
Holy shit, she's serious.
The truth is I was just as desperate as she was, so I excused my self to go the restroom. After several minutes of thought, maneuvering and accidentally popping myself in the testicles with the snapping latex, I gave up. I realized that in the future, every time I doctor approaches me with gloved hands, I am going to think of this moment. I remember having powder all over my hands as I tried to place my member into the thumb portion to no avail. I was beyond embarrassed. I dusted myself off, washed my hands and attempted to exit the bathroom with my last ounce of dignity.
Thankfully, Angela seemed very understanding about the whole situation. She hugged me tightly and kissed my cheek. I told her I would try to get another condom from my house and come back. She agreed, but warned me not to approach the house if her mother's car was in the drive way. After kissing her shoulder, I hastily exited the house in pursuit of another condom. I planned to check my brother's room for one to use.
I didn't anticipate that my father and one of the crazy neighbors would be conversing on my front porch that evening. I jogged up to the porch, hoping that my obvious haste would stop my Dad from asking the usual rhetorical questions, but I was wrong.
"Where you coming from?"
"Huh?"
"Come back here, I'm talking to you boy."
I was so close. I had my hand on the door knob.
"Huh?"
"What are you, deaf? Where are you coming from?"
"I was around the corner at Cory's house."
"Why are you sweating? Y'all run laps around the boy's back yard?"
My father's crazy friend, Roy, chuckled in response. He added, "You look like you've been running from the police. What did you do, boy?"
"I decided to jog back to the house, because I needed to use the bathroom," I explained.
"Cory doesn't have a working toilet at his house?"
"He does."
"So? Why come all the way to use the bathroom."
Roy chuckled again and added, "...ain't it obvious? He needs to shit, man."
There was no way I was going to get out of this easily, so I decided to run with that conclusion. Why not?
"Yes," I added eagerly. I began to shift eagerly from foot to foot. I cradled my stomach for emphasis. My father wasn't buying it, however. He cut his eyes really low, as if to indicate that he knew I was up to something. What it was, though, he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
"Go ahead, boy. Use the bathroom."
I feigned relief and eagerly jogged into the house. All I could think about was Angela, in those denim shorts, eagerly pacing back and forth across the living room. Waiting for me. The very thought of it gave new life to that ache I was trying to keep at bay. I sped into my older brother's room, hoping he had left some condoms behind when he moved. My heart knocked around in my chest as I searched all of his drawers. He had left for college a couple months ago, but I remained hopeful that I would find something. I reached his night stand, the last spot to check, and gingerly opened the drawer.
And I found nothing.
Feeling defeated, I sat down on the floor. Angry and sweaty, I tried to get a handle of the hormones coursing through my body and calm down. As much as it sucked to admit to myself, it just wasn't my time. Angela wasn't going to be my gateway across uncharted waters to manhood. Although I knew she was capable of doing so...it wasn't going to happen. I went back downstairs and sat on porch with my father and Roy. Listening to their banter, I watched as Angela's mother drove past us and turned the corner.
I should have given that latex glove another try.
