Part 1
I moved in with Toby on September 1st of my sophomore year in the nursing program at the University of Chicago. He was starting his senior year in architecture. Our first place was a large one bedroom above a Thai restaurant on Grand, west of North Wells. Adult films were just starting to make their way into the mainstream and when an adult video store opened nearby, we joked about renting one. We passed the doorway to the second floor walk-up, sandwiched between a used book store and a Lebanese bakery, almost daily. Neither of us had ever seen what we called skin flicks.
It was twilight on a muggy, airless Chicago Saturday night. Money was tight and we had decided to rent a movie and stay in with the windows open, the fan going and a mickey of vodka on ice. We walked to the corner store and picked up the newest Scorsese. On the way back we stopped in front of the glass door with the three Xes. We looked at each other and laughed. Toby hadn't halted first nor had I; we'd stopped as one.
"I guess we want to watch something dirty," Toby said. I blushed and told him, "I'll wait here." He opened the door to the well lit, freshly painted, narrow staircase. The scent of lilac air freshener wafted out. "Nothing gross," was my only specific request.
Not wanting to be a woman hanging out in front of an adult video store, I strolled a few doors up the street. As I enjoyed the unseasonably warm night air, I considered my secret. Toby didn't know I was bisexual. It wasn't that I hadn't told him, exactly; it was that I hadn't told anybody. I figured it wasn't anybody's business. So what if I sometimes masturbated while fantasizing about making love to a woman? I wanted a monogamous relationship, and if I was going to have one it meant the only person I'd be making love to would be my partner, and every other person, male or female, was off limits. Still, I couldn't help but wonder what his reaction would be when he noticed I liked watching naked women as much as he did.
When Toby came out he was wearing a particularly goofy grin. "I'm excited already," he admitted.
I said, "In that case, we're wasting time."
When we got back to the apartment I took off my t-shirt and got out of my bra before Toby had crossed to the kitchen. At the door he turned to ask if I wanted any mix with my vodka. When he saw me suddenly naked from the waist up his eyes got wide and his mouth opened. I loved it that when I was in various states of undress he would look at me with something approaching reverence; the face of a child on the staircase landing on Christmas morning.
I explained my bare breasts by telling him "It's the heat." I gave him my best come-hither smile, kicked off my sandals, walked over, slipped the tape in the VCR and got comfortable on the sofa while he went in the kitchen to roll us the last of the weed and get our drinks.
I know some women aren't comfortable watching a porno with a man and I think that's because they feel the man will compare them unfavorably to the women on the screen. For me, that wasn't an issue. I was 19 and had a body to die for: 5' 4", thick honey blond hair, a perfect 34D and an ass you could crack an egg on. A hundred and twenty-five pounds of curves covered in smooth, firm, flawless skin. Back home in Minnesota, where there were other Scandinavian girls like me, they called us milk maids, and it wasn't because we were good with the cows.
In any event, Toby came in with a joint behind one ear and a sweating tumbler of freezing cold vodka, straight with a slice, in each hand. He was shirtless and barefoot. He placed our drinks on the coffee table and sat in the other corner of the couch, a cushion between us. We pulled our legs up onto the sofa and started the tape.
* * *
Two shirtless white men sit in a living room in what is clearly a studio set. They have shaggy hair and monochrome tattoos. The one that looks like he favors the weights during yard time has a handlebar mustache. The other one is tall and gangly, the kind of guy other men call Stretch.
My first reaction is that this thing is going to be too skanky to be arousing. I'm about to tell Toby as much when the woman enters the picture. She is black; blue-black, with a flat African nose, wild hair, a belly, a waist that isn't quite thick, wide hips, huge breasts and a bubble butt. She is wearing the largest tube top I have ever seen and it is stretched tight. Her eyes are clear, alert, in charge: a Nubian fertility idol come to life.
The men stand when she enters. Yard Time has a body I could definitely enjoy. I flash on him and friends in the prison shower and decide to watch for a little longer.
The woman crooks a finger, signaling the men to her. They approach and slip their arms around her waist. She turns to Yard Time and they kiss. While they are kissing, Stretch slips one hand down the back of her Bermuda shorts. With the other he pulls the tube top down off her breasts with surprising gentleness.
Her tits are an amazing sight; natural and massive. Her night-black aureoles and nipples are huge but only visible at an angle. When she faces the camera directly they blend into the sweat-shiny blue-black of the rest of her.
* * *
"What?" Toby asked.
I couldn't take my eyes off the woman. "I didn't say anything."
"Yes, you did. You growled."
"Maybe," I admitted, turning to him. I placed my hands on my flat tummy and slowly slid them up until I was cupping my big, firm, gravity-defying, 19 year old tits. "A growl is not a word," I informed him. "Grammatically speaking, it's an ejaculation."
I released my breasts, took a big gulp of vodka and turned back to the movie. A match cracked and I smelled sulfur, then I smelled grass. After a while Toby's hand entered my field of vision. It was holding a joint. I took the weed and smoked as I watched.
* * *
Stretch is behind her, pulling down her shorts. She isn't wearing panties. She and Yard Time continue necking. The bright pinkness of her tongue is as exotic as a rainforest waterfall. He still has one arm around her waist. With his free hand he massages her epic breasts.