Jrodius’ Tall Tales Part III

In my continued love affair with completely embarrassing myself I present the third installment of Jrodius’ Tall Tales. You can read Part I here and Part II here. Today’s installment will deal with the lustful allure of a young boys forbidden fruit.

Let’s get one thing out of the way before going any further. Every man you know owns porn. Your husband? Check in the garage. Your 13 year old son? Check his computer. Your Dad? Look behind the books on his bookshelf. We all have it. The sad thing about today’s day and age? Kids are never gonna know how to be covert. Porn is so accessible. You can get it free and instantaneously. Where is the fun in that?

It used to be that acquiring and stashing porn was almost a prerequisite for entry into the CIA. Why do you think they always referred to it as a “Boys Club?” Because we have been keeping this shit secret since we were 12. And I was no different.

I had a friend through middle school, whom we shall call Morty. Now Morty was that friend that most of us have at some point in our life. The one who is raised by a single mom stretched too thin, resulting in the son taking full advantage of her at every turn. Anything he wanted to do was allowed. So as a kid who came from a good home with rules, of course I always wanted to be at Morty’s house. We could stay up late, download illegal software on the computer, go TPing, let fireworks off the roof in the middle of the night. The world was our adolescent oyster.

So it should come at no surprise that I saw my first Playboy at Morty’s house. At 13 years old the kid had a subscription to Playboy. I shit you not. The nudie mag would arrive in that black wrapper that screams “I’m a dirty pervert.”

Anyway, one night I am spending the night at his house listening to Warrant’s “Cheery Pie” as we SysOp’d our BBS and Morty asked me if I wanted to see a Playboy. I don’t remember what my exact response was, but it was probably something along the lines of “Are you short and fat?”

He was.

So he takes me over to a corner of his room and lifts the sheet that sat over his nightstand. But it wasn’t a nightstand. What is was was a self made wooden safe constructed by he and his grandpa. It had a combination lock on the front of it.

As his fingertips touched the dial I could feel my anticipation rising. This was it. I was going to see boobs! As he opened the door, I could be mistaken, but there may have been the sound of an angels harp and a spotlight from the heavens shining through the ceiling directly upon the safes door as it swung ajar.

Inside Morty had placed wooden inserts vertically into the safe so that his paper treasures could sit up right. This was a young man serious about his Playboys.

He slowly and carefully removed the first magazine out of its porno cubby. The cover alone was glorious. A buxom blond with strategically placed suspenders. I would never look at Mork from Ork the same way again. He then passed the sacred tome unto me. My first reaction was a bit odd. The magazine’s scent was different. It smelled faintly of tacky perfume and ecstasy. But I wouldn’t let that stop me. I opened the pages expecting to see the female form right from page 1.

What the fuck was this? It’s just a bunch of fucking articles. Morty urged me on saying that for some reason the magazine had to appeal to more than just men looking for naked girls. I still don’t grasp that concept.

Sure enough about 1/3 of the the way through the magazine there it was. A naked woman. SWEET!

I was a man now. At least in my 13 year old brain I was. I recall thinking then that I would always remember this moment. And sure enough 19 years later I certainly do.

Now, so many years later I realize that every Playboy uses system of three pictorials per magazine, with the Playmate of the month as the centerfold.

I also sadly realize that the articles are quite good…