Here's the story of how I got caught whackin it.
There are things that happen in life, that at the time, seem like the most mortifying, horrifying thing ever. You think that they'll bring an end to life as you know it, will cause you to to be ostracized and result in general outcasterism. As a neurotic kid who was way too concerned with other peoples' opinions, this was pretty much everything for me. But you get older, you grow up and you realize how fucking hilarious this stuff is. The time I got caught jerking off in high school definitely falls into this category.
I lived in a cul de sac growing up. Ok, it wasn't really a cul de sac, the road just kinda ended in a dirt patch and then there was a field. But whatever. In about junior high, one of my friends from school moved in across the street. We'll call him B. B was the funny kid in school. He was someone you didn't want to have any dirt on you, because he would bust your balls at will.
I was terrified of B, while at the same time desperate for his friendship and approval. And here's the thing about B, when you were one on one, he was totally capable of being kind and empathetic. But, as we all know, kids are ruthless. I'm just as guilty of this kind of shit myself and it's something I regret...a lot. But, I was a kid and I was the biggest cliche in the book (covering up my own insecurities by pointing out flaws in others.)
I'm pretty sure I was a sophomore, maybe a freshman when this all went down. Now, if you know anything about fourteen to fifteen year-old boys, you know this: they masturbate. A lot. I don't know how these kids today survive. I would have pulled it off with all the porn available. These kids have no idea how good they have it. They'll never have to talk a greasy kid at school into stealing some of his dad's gross porn. They'll never scour the woods for woods porn (This exists. For real.) They'll never have to have a secret cache of Victoria Secret catalogs and Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issues stowed in the bathroom. It was a rough time, the 90's.
Which brings us to the point of this story. It wasn't so bad that I got caught beatin' it, it's what I was beating it to that's funny.
It was summer and like most days, I decided to have some sexy time with myself. The lock on my door was broken. This usually wasn't a big deal, as my family was pretty good about knocking.
I got myself set up on the floor. Put my "material" in front of me, dropped trough and laid myself over the blue corduroy husband pillow that was so dear to me (there's another masturbatory story about this pillow, but that's for another time.) So there I am, getting really into my "material" and having at myself. I'm going at it for a few minutes when I hear something behind me. I turn around to see B standing there, eyes bulging out of his head. He closed the door and tore ass down the stairs. I ripped my pants up and turned a shade of hot red.
Now, as I've said, it was bad enough that I'd just got caught beating off, but what was I jerking it to? Thanks for asking. It was. Well. Here, just look at the goddamn picture:
Ayep, I had gotten caught beating off to Stephen King's "It". The book no less. Like I said, times were rough, and there was a pretty hot sex scene in it. The kicker? I'm pretty sure it was a copy that I'd borrowed from B. I think it was his mom's. Needless to say, I never returned it.
To his credit, B never said a word about it. I'm pretty sure he told everyone, I mean I grew up in a tiny town, everyone knew everything, but he never said a word to me about it.
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