Roger Hudson and I grew up in the same neighborhood. We had experimented on each other when we were school kids, but that was a time when we didn't know anything about anything. He was five years older than me. When he became high school age, he hung around his friends and I hung around mine. The difference was he got into the drug scene and I didn't. He failed out of the two colleges his parents sent him to and he finally found his niche as a short-order cook. Me, I went into the army right after high school and it was almost seven years since I saw him
I got out of the army and attended the local state college. I lived at home for the first two years. My mom tried giving me the rules, but I never listened to the part about no girls in my room with the door closed. I was a big boy now, and besides, I paid her some rent.
One of the things we used to do in the summertime was have a fire in our barbecue pit. The neighborhood kids would come over and we would burn hotdogs and marshmallows and talk. Well, I started doing that again, but hardly anyone came over as all my neighborhood friends were already through college and had moved away. I didn't care, I did it pretty much out of nostalgia.
One night Roger came over. I knew he had been drinking and smoking, as his eyes were glazed and he smelled of weed, but he was harmless enough. We talked about what we were doing and where I'd been. Somehow he got on the subject of homosexuals in the army. I said something to the effect that I didn't care what anybody did, as long as they keep their private lives private. He kept badgering me about cocksuckers in foxholes and I said, "Hey, don't knock it till you're tried it." I tried to make it sound humorous. He then said that I probably was some guys secret fantasy, on account of how well built I was and what such a tight ass I had. He said that if he was that way, he's bend me over and do me on the cement. I looked at him and I saw that he was serious. He then realized what he said and laughed. He got unsteadily to his feet and walked off into the night.
The next day I sat outside for a long time, listening to the birds and the cars. What Roger said had struck something. I knew I wasn't what I considered a homosexual. I always thought about women and trying to screw them and drinking beer, but sometimes I had thoughts of men and of being entered and giving head. Maybe all men have these latent fantasies, I didn't know. I would always push them away and think of other things.
Before I knew it I was walking over to where Roger was living with his mom and dad. A surprised Roger opened the door and let me in. We made small talk, but I knew that he remembered what he said last night. I took a deep breath then flat out asked him if what he said was true, that he would bend me over. Visibly shocked hi nodded his head. I then told him I would come over tomorrow afternoon and we would see if he was all talk or not. I knew he would be home from work and that he would be alone- his mom and dad were gone on vacation.
The next day I showed up at his door dressed in shorts, a t-shirt and tennis shoes. I had a bag over my shoulder. I rang the door bell and Roger opened the door.
We didn't say a word. He looked at me for a second, then turned and walked down the stairs to the basement. I closed the door and followed him. At the basement landing I turned and walked through their laundry area and into the adjacent room that the Hudsons used as a family room. I'd been here hundreds of times as a kid. It was always somewhat gloomy, with the shades pulled and all, but it was a good place to watch TV. And it served out purpose well.
Roger had already been getting into the mood. The smell of marijuana permeated the air and there were a few beer cans next to his chair. I was very certain that the marijuana was laced with something, but not sure what. Roger liked to do that.
