Sunday, November 12, 2006

My non-ficticious life. Vol. I

When I was growing up I was on a private basketball team called the Wildcats. My coach was also a friend and mentor. He mostly coached middle school aged players. Middle school was a time in which sex was a mysterious and unatainable goal for young boys. My parents were too passive to give me a sex talk, so instead of my parents giving me the "talk," they gave me a book entitled, "What's happening to my Body Book for Boys." For me sex was a fantasy, It's all I ever thought about but had no confidence that it would happen anytime soon. So I had this cool coach that would often ask if anyone had a joke during our huddle in time outs, and if no one had a good enough joke he would tell some crude joke about Mother Teresa's tits that everyone found hillarious.

I didn't have any friends who had actually ever had sex regardless of how many lied and said they did, so I became friends with my coach, who I called by his first name "Steve," so I could ask him as many questions as I could think of about sex and anything else that an adult wouldn't normally tell me about life. He did take basketball extemely serious, and was constantly yelling at the kids and making us run an unholy amount of suicides at practice if we didn't permorm well the game before. You never knew if he was going to yell at you for not playing hard enough or tell you that your mom was hot.

He didn't smoke or drink or or consume caffeine. No drugs. If he ever heard about a kid drinking or smoking pot he was off the team. He was a hard ass but always put humor as a second priority to keep us on his side. He was in his mid thirties and was never married but had countless stories of his many conquests, even though no one ever saw him with a woman. He would always talk about his porn collection and about how much he jacked off and his personal record of cuming 17 times in one day (with a woman.) He was an avid homophobe always mentioning how disgusting fags were for having butt sex with one another. I wouldn't stop bothering him about buying me a porn since I had no other way of getting one. At first he said he would do it but never actually did.

Kids would sleep over at his house which was covered completely in trash and empty pizza boxes, I looked at him as a big kid, who new a lot more about life, and I had a fountain of questions for him all the time. I treasured the time I could spend with him, and he liked me because I was constantly challenging him and getting into arguements about whether or not military service should be mandatory for citizens (he was a republican, and I was a radical at a very young age.) Most weekends we would participate in tounaments throughout the state, he would always drive the kids who's parents didn't drive and we would rent a hotel room, where the players would spend the evenings in the hot tub after the game, and he would always take the bed making countless young bodies sleep on the floor. I would always want to go with him and would look forward to these trips, and socializing with the other players/friends. These trips I looked at as the biggest freedoms of my young life away from parents and authority. He was our authority and although he did have rules he would let me drive his car and he'd take us to the movies or bowling and it was fun.

Some how he earned the trust of parents to let there kids spend so much time with him. It was very important that he earn the trust of the parents, and mine trusted him.

I remained friends with him into high school after I didn't play for him anymore. he would pay me to scorekeep at his tournaments, and since I still never got laid in high school I was still infatuated with getting his advice on how I could score. I didn't realize he was the last person I should be getting this information from.

He'd say things like "girls want to fuck too. Just go up to them and flat out ask 'em 'do you want to fuck?' And they'll say yes."

So I'd say, "That really works? I just ask them if they want to fuck me?"

"It worked for me in high school, I got laid so many times asking girls that, they're just as horny as you are."

I only got myself to try that once my senior year in gym class. For some reason every black girl in my gym class was in love with me, one in particular proclaimed me as her husband and would constantly embarase me. I was really mean to her, but there was this other really hot younger black girl that would always flirt with me.

So one day I said "We should fuck" She giggled and didn't answer me. She was younger and not seriously wanting sex. So his advice didn't work in practice. This partially explains the deficiancy in my sex life to this day.

My junior year in high school I always wanted to go on a road trip but my parents wouldn't let me go with my friends. They would however let me go with Steve and one other of my friends. It was a dream come true. So we planned a trip out west. I was excited and in order to make money for the trip that summer I worked at Steve's tournaments, helping him organize and running from the gym to his house to to get things he needed.

One time I had some down time and I was alone at his house, the first time I'd ever been there alone. So I decided I'd snoop around a little bit and find one of those elusive porns in his giant collection. He had a huge 50 inch t.v. in his living room that we would always watch sports on but I figured the good stuff would be around the t.v. in his room. I was very discriminant about what I touched since I new very well that was the room where he told us so many times that he jacked off. So I decided I would just play the tape that was allready in his v.c.r. I pressed play and immediately saw skin. Jackpot. Wait a minute...I don't see any breasts in this porn, just two shapeless bodies one black and one white. Then I realized with a sudden shock that this wasn't a regular porn, it was a gay porn. These revelations that spaned about 2.5 seconds in my mind concluding with me realizing that this wasn't any ordinary gay porn either, it was a low quality homemade porn, and the black guy was Steve, and the white guy was Seth Cooper, the star player who was a year older than me and one of the most popular kids at my high school.

He was highly regarded as a succesful heterosexual and was one of the biggest pimps at my school. I was 16 at the time and Seth was in the grade above me so it was unclear if he was 18 at the time the video was made. It took a while for this new information to register and when it finally did I was swallowed with confusion and shock. Steve was gay, the biggest homophobe I ever met was gay. I would later learn that homophobia was the first warning sign of a closet gay along with talking about masturbation. Straight guys don't talk to eachother about their jacking off habits. So for all those closet cases out there, don't talk vividly about your penis. It's not normal and certainly not a comforting conversation for a straight guy.

I didn't tell anyone about what I saw for about six months and decide to still go on the road trip despite my recent revelations. I thought I could still have fun and make the best of a wierd situation. The trip ended up being two weeks of constant bickering. As much as I thought I liked him we always butted heads on many issues. He was afraid of sleeping outdoors and refused to go camping. This was very dissapointing for me and Started a wave of constant arguements throughout the trip and I began to hate him.

but we had plenty of time to talk, so at one point I asked him about Seth, who spontanioulsy moved to Florida after a big fight he had with Steve a couple of years ago.

He said "me and Seth were like this," as he crossed his pointer and middle finger to show their closeness.

I asked him what it was that caused their falling out and he made up some lie about him not getting along with his mom.

The highlight of our trip was me buying a bong in Venice Beach and then later in Vegas finding a bum to sell us weed. Steve new we experimented with pot and said if we got arrested he would drive home and leave us in jail. I didn't realize at that time that in Nevada possesion of any amount of marijuana is a felony. But I bought a bong and was damn well gonna find some weed to put in it. So I found a bum on the streets in vegas walking around with no shirt and dirt caked to all parts of his body to go on a wild goose chase for this weed that he kept in a bottle under some overpase on the other side of town. It was a long walk and even back in my naive and way too trusting days began to doubt this weed really existed. Believe it or not after 20 minutes of walking we found this overpass just like he described it and he uncovered a bottle buried under some rocks and in it was $20 of dirt weed. So me and my friend drove around and found a spot where we could see all the lights on the strip and packed up a bong load. One of the only fond memories from that trip.

Our fighting got so bad that when we were around the Grand Canyon we decided just to make the mostly silent 30 hour drive straight home and end our misery. I was so angry at him that I never talked to him again after that trip.

Six months later I told one of my friends about the porn and one of them told my friend who I went on the trip with who I purposely didn't tell because I new he wouldn't believe me, and he didn't. Even my other friends began to doubt my story as though I would make something like that up. A year later steve's name appears in the newspaper, because of accusations that he was driving a boy home and pulled over and asked him to give him oral sex. There was no more doubting my story. Now he's a registered sex offender.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

This is very disturbing. You had to keep somuch of this to yourself. It's sad that you couldn't share this with people in your life at the time.
The very good thing is that you are thinking about it now and trying to make sense of it.

You know me but I won't say who I am.

November 13, 2006 7:26 AM  
Blogger Mazur said...

I just wanted you to know that since your post, our site has recieved a few hits by people searching for "young boys" and "after school sex." Although they were no doubt disapointed by you unexplicit account, I thought you of all people could appreciate that one man's disturbing childhood memory could be another's would-be masterbatory fodder.

I hope your "non-fictious life" becomes a regular series.

November 13, 2006 9:32 PM  
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