In Which I Beat One Out

I don’t think I have to explain again that I grew up in a conservative Christian home. It wasn’t always difficult to live in that environment, and because I didn’t know any better I didn’t mind too much. That remained true for many years, until I became a teenager. Despite the iron fist of purity my parents tried to instill in me, I couldn’t help being like every teenage boy in history by being fascinated by women. More specifically, women in various stages of nakedness.

It wasn’t always easy finding visual stimuli, given the watchful eye of my parents, so I was forced to make do with what I could. The lingerie section of the annual JC Penny catalog was the best resource readily available in my home. When that became old (or when the eyes of my favorite model switched from sultry to judgmental), I would turn to the sales flyer's in the Sunday paper, or if I was really desperate, the intimates section of the Avon catalog.

I knew there was better stuff out there, but I couldn’t get my hands on it without my parents knowing. They blocked all the cable channels that might have had anything decent on them, and if any of my friends had anything good, they weren’t sharing. I had all but given up hope when the Holy Grail of masturbatory material arrived in the mail.

I remember the day well. I had just gotten off the bus after school, and I checked the mail before going inside. My sisters were taking part in some after school program, and with both of my parents at work for a few hours still, I had the house to myself. I tucked the mail under my arm and walked up the driveway, not knowing that I had just struck gold.

Once inside, I threw the mail on the counter. As I walked away, something in the pile of mail caught my eye. I paused, and focused on the hot pink cover. I pushed the rest of the mail away, and what I saw took my breath away. My backpack slumped off my shoulders, and I reached with trembling hands to pick it up.

It was a Victoria’s Secret catalog.

In that instant, my life changed. I had never seen anything like it before. Page after page of beautiful women in lingerie, swimsuits, and intimates. I slowly examined each picture, turning the pages carefully as if it was an ancient book with brittle pages. And the cleavage! Oh, the cleavage! Time slowed down, and if I had died at that moment, I couldn’t have pictured heaven to be any better.

Unsure of what to do with this newfound treasure, I left the magazine in the stack of mail. I didn’t want to let it out of my sight, but I didn’t want to risk getting caught with it in my room, either. When my mother came home that day, she hid it in the organizer they used for bills. I checked daily to make sure it was still there, and would occasionally take it out to look at when no one was home.

On those days, Victoria and I were inseparable. Our relationship was that of my wildest dreams. We would go on to make sweet hand-lovin’ for many months, until one day, the magazine was gone.

I panicked when I saw that it was missing. I searched frantically through the house in all of the usual hiding places, but it was nowhere to be found. I sat on my bed with my head in my hands, feeling my future crumbling. Suddenly, I had a thought. I raced to the kitchen, and tore the lid off the trashcan. There it was!

I grabbed it from the pile of trash. My mother must have thrown it out before she left for work, as it was resting on top of the refuse and hadn’t been covered with anything else yet. It was a glorious moment, and I ran back to my room with the magazine firmly in my grasp.

I realized then that because my mother had thrown it out, I no longer had to steal peeks at it. For all she knew, the magazine was on its way to the landfill. There was no reason to think it would have been taken from the trash, so as long as I kept it well hidden, the magazine was all mine! I thought hard for a moment, and in a moment of brilliance, I hid the magazine under my dresser. No one would ever look there, I thought.

No one ever did. I coveted that magazine, even storing it inside a plastic Ziploc bag to preserve it. It took me a very long time to exhaust the resources in that magazine, but even after it had lost its charm, I still held onto it. Just ask any guy… Old skin mags are better than no skin mags. You never know when there is going to be a drought.

After a number of years, Victoria and I parted ways the summer before I moved out for college. I didn’t want to risk my parents nor my nosy college roommate finding it, so I wrapped it in dark plastic and stuck it in the trashcans on the curb on trash day. I wasn’t worried about not having enough smut in stock while at college. I was going to have full access to the Internet in my dorm room, and what better thing is the Internet good for, if not for porn?