I was Rash & Impulsive - and Gay
It was an uncommonly chilly night and I was shivering. I was never one for good decision making, and walking out of the house in only a t-shirt and boxers during Winter proved that assessment succinctly. Where as many 18-year-olds are characterized as rash and impulsive, those traits literally defined me - that and my homosexuality. I came out at a time when people in the rural South just didn’t do that. I was the first homosexual many of my friends and most of my classmates had ever met.
My roommate Rex and I had walked down to the corner store to use the payphone, so he could affirm his undying love for his now ex-girlfriend Laura, and we were making our way back to our little shack of a rent house. If I remember correctly (this was over twenty years ago, after all), the ex had lured him into their affair with her carefree flirtations backstage between scenes during our college production of Those That Play the Clowns - a failure on Broadway, but an apt choice for our drama department in that it came to represent the utter failure of our production and the future of our collegiate careers.
Laura and Rex were destined to flirt, since they were the only attractive kids in the department who weren’t super Baptist. This was East Texas, after all. During the rehearsals and show, Rex, Laura, and I had three extended moments when we hung out backstage waiting for our next cue to exit onto the stage. During those downtimes, the three of us bonded and became friends, aligning ourselves against our conservative and religious classmates. A year later, he and I were best friends, and we lived in a sweet ass rent shack, seemingly a focal point or vortex for the chaos, frivolity, and drama of youth and college life.
Laura and Rex had enjoyed a good run as boyfriend and girlfriend, but Laura’s inability to let go of her tobacco-chewing hometown high school boyfriend put a serious dent in the hormonally charged situation - but for a while, they were hot and heavy.
I was a pretty naive kid - especially so for a homosexual - so I was shocked when I discovered that people could have sex at any time of day, not just nighttime. The only computer in the house was in Rex’s bedroom - and being 1995, it was more of a novelty than a useful tool. I was writing a play, and for whatever reason, I had opted to use the computer instead of the more mid-nineties practical medium of pen & paper. I sauntered into the room one day after classes with some tortilla chips and gross-ass Frito Lay queso and took a seat at the computer. I had sat there for about five minutes (the word processing program was still booting up - cuz, you know, the 90's) when Rex said, “Wolfie…” Shocked that I wasn’t alone, I turned around to see Rex and Laura wrapped together like a bundle of sticks (called a fagot in France). It was a melange of tits and boy butt and sweat running down their remarkably tan-line-less bodies. Of course, this was long before I had developed consideration for others, and I had already waited 5 minutes to get my program booted up, so I wasn’t about to walk away from my theatrical opus. Instead, I gave them some privacy, by turning away and getting back to my work - and they got back to their work. This was college, after all - and the 90's.
Back to the problem at hand, Rex had been unable to reach Laura on the phone, so we were walking home in defeat. His festive Santa hat said it all, “ho ho ho,” as he had gotten fucked by the whole situation. A park sat across from the girl’s dorm, and Rex decided to take a break from walking (and undoubtably pine more while staring dramatically in the direction of the dorm - we were theater kids, after all). He plopped down in a swing and I headed for the slide made of rolling-pin-like rollers. I declared it the "Orgasm Slide" as I slid down it on my stomach.
We had been at the park not even a minute when a truck pulled into the semi-circular drive across the street at the girl’s dorm. It was Laura’s redneck ex-boyfriend from her hometown. Apparently, he and Laura had been out and about, and he was dropping her off. Rex was on fire! I could see him rehearsing his angry speech in his head - but I wanted to make sure he didn’t do anything too rash (that’s my forte), so I talked him into waiting for the date to drive away - besides, the date was basically innocent in all this - and so Rex held back. We just sat there at the park - waiting. Laura and her ex kissed a bit, then she headed inside the dorm. This was the moment - or so we thought. The ex started to drive away - and then, inexplicably parked his truck in the adjacent visitor parking. His headlights went off, and we saw him hop out of his truck and start swaggering across the street. He was heading to the park!
This is where my poor decision making reached it’s peak. Instead of saying, “let’s get out of here,” I grabbed Rex by the arm and pulled him over into the bushes just behind the slide. From our prickly vantage point, we watched in fear as the ex walked right up to the bush. Did he know we were there? Had he seen us from across the street? Was he coming to protect Laura's honor from the two obvious stalkers? It was all so potentially embarrassing, but instead of an awkward confrontation or angry argument, Rex and I crouched in the bushes in silent horror as Laura's ex unzipped his tight Wranglers and pulled his beefy Texas-sized dick out and started peeing.
I’ll never forget how we sat there with our mouths agape, realizing how ridiculously stuck we were at that moment. At that point, we had to stay hidden or look like two creeper-perverts. But it would end soon. He’d pee, shake it, and head back to his truck…. And so, the stream ended. He shook it… And shook it a little more… and a little more…. Aaaand a little more... Rex’s mouth was no longer agape. I looked at him as he clasped his full pink lips together like a tight little purse, trying desperately to hold in his laughter. I threw my hand over his mouth as we stared at each other with wild eyes.
Through the bushes, we could clearly see that the ex had finished peeing and was now stroking his dick in a hot & heavy religious frenzy. He closed his eyes and let his mouth hang open, his bottom row of teeth and chin unconsciously contorting like an overbite. Just when we thought it couldn't get any funnier, he uttered a throaty croak, faint at first, then louder and louder and louder - and with a spastic flick of his neck and head, that was it. He was done and, lucky for us, not in the mood to cuddle or talk about it. He made a beeline back to his truck and drove away.