Date: Thu, 3 Mar 2005 02:28:40 +0000 (GMT)
From: Dan Perducci <danperducci@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: What Difference Does it Make? by Dan Perducci

What Difference Does It Make?

By Dan Perducci

"Would you like to see what's behind door number three?"
Monty Hall asked the woman dressed up as a milkshake.

"Should I keep the fifty dollars?" asked the bewildered
lady.

The crowd cheered and hollered maniacally.

Monty prodded the costumed contestant for a quick answer.

"Take the money!" shouted some in the crowd and others
urged her to take the mystery prize behind the curtain.

It was a conundrum.  With inflation in 1976, that fifty
dollars was bound to be worth less than it was when she
entered the studio but she knew that she didn't want to be
saddled with a booby prize like a donkey or a pile of leaves.

The at-home audience of one took an impatient drag from her
cigarette and kept folding the pile of laundry at her feet.

Patricia was a housewife and had no patience for indecisive
people.  She was tempted to change the channel but had no
desire to get up and walk across the living room to make a
lesser of three evils choice of what to watch.

Three channels.  Infinite boredom.

"Bitch, take the money and run," she plainly instructed the
idiot on the screen.

"I'll take what's behind door number three," said the
woman.

"Let's see what's behind door number three," called out
Monty.

THUD!

Patricia rose to her feet and sprinted down the hall.  The
sound was coming from her eldest son's bedroom.

Expecting to find some damage, she flung the door open and
braced herself for the worst.

Her son Brad was frantically pulling up his bedside dresser
with the help of his two friends Stewart and Derek.

"You scared the shit out of me!  If you're going to cut
school, I expect to not have to play babysitter for you
guys!" she yelped to the gang.

"Sorry, mom," explained Brad, "we were just messing around
and knocked it over.  We won't do it again."

Patricia was a `cool mom' and didn't mind too much when
her stoner son decided to ditch school every now and then for
some time at home.  As long as he didn't disturb her and she
did not bother him, they managed quite well.

"It smells like weed in here," she teased, "Stick with
your smoking and quit the stupid stunts.  How would I explain
this to your moms if I had to rush one of you to the
hospital?"

"Sorry, Miss Pat," Derek replied, "We'll play it safe."

Patricia knew better than to spend too much time lecturing
because that's what she hated when Brad's father was still
living at the house.  She shut the door behind her and
hurried out to find an ashtray for her two-inch long ash
hanging from her smoke.

"Lock the door," said Brad.  Stewart complied.

For high school juniors, they were good at finding booze.
Stewart's older sister often bought stuff for them to bribe
them into lying about her whereabouts.  She was attending
junior college but still was accountable to her parents since
she stayed with them.

Stewart pulled a fifth of vodka from his gym bag and
unscrewed the lid from the bottle.  He favored this drink
because it supposedly left no trace on his breath when he had
to face his parents.

"Who wants the first?" he asked his friends.

"I will," Brad said, "Taking the bottle into his mouth and
swallowing a considerable amount.  It was enough to make a
dent in what remained.

Brad's eyes welled up with the kind of tears that came from
taking in such a strong amount with nothing to chase it.  He
coughed some but took it down.  He passed the drink to Derek.

Derek did the same but with some hesitation at first.  After
returning the bottle to Stewart, Derek took a beef jerky from
his shirt pocket and took a few bites from it.

Stewart was just as game as his buddies and he took his share
before placing it back in the bag.

The three sat down in a circle beside Brad's bed.  They
already smoked out for most of the morning and they were now
just passing the time until the end of the school day.  It
was only noontime and they had two hours until Derek and
Stewart could go home "from school."

They felt no stress because excuse notes were taken care of
as usual.  They also had their way of intercepting those
pesky telephone calls from the school that told parents their
child was absent from school.

The boys were alone in the silence.  The windows were shut
and the air became stale and hot with lingering marijuana
smoke and body odor.  It was a funk that immediately conjures
up memories of adolescent slackers.

Brad leaned past Stewart to turn on his portable radio.  The
rock station was playing something by The Eagles.

Brad fumbled with his blonde hair and asked for the bottle.
Stewart obliged.

"We can finish this bottle in no time," Brad announced.

Stewart and Derek agreed.

Derek was a tall, lean kid with light brown hair.  He was a
lightweight when it came to drinking but wanted to prove that
he could hang with the others.

Within fifteen minutes, there was nothing left to drink.
Thankfully, the boys had turkey sandwiches for lunch to brace
their stomachs.

High and drunk, the boys started talking about whatever hit
their heads.  Their profound topics included their
neighbor's new lawn mowing service, Lisa's arrest for
shoplifting and how much they could bench press.

"I could lift you," Brad said to Derek.

"I would like to see you try," Derek challenged.

Brad took him up on it.  Brad took Derek bodily in both hands
and attempted to hoist him as high as he could.  They tumbled
to the floor.

"Are you guys sixteen or thirteen?" Stewart asked.

Brad got up first and picked up Derek with an arm under each
armpit.  They were facing each other.  Their crotches made
contact.

A small spark of something hit Derek.

"You have a boner," Derek told Brad.

"So do you," Brad retorted.

Always the know it all, Derek said, "It's bound to happen
because we are drunk.  The alcohol is causing our bodies to
react..."

"Blah, blah, blah, you're a fag," Stewart said.

"Watch this," said Derek.  It was like Derek was trying to
prove his point.  Derek reached quickly for Stewart's groin.

"You might not like this, but you're gonna pop a boner
too!" Derek whispered.

And like a knee to a doctor's hammer, something sprang from
behind the fabric of Stewart's rock star tight jeans.

"You're a fucking fag, too!" laughed Brad.

Dizzy from the mood, Stewart got defensive at first.

"Both of you can shut the fuck up.  I don't do shit with
other dudes!"

"Relax.  Don't be such a baby.  We're drunk and we
probably won't remember a thing," Brad said in an attempt
to rationalize their odd behavior.

Derek said, "What difference does it make?  I think I can
rely on you guys to keep things between us."

Whatever buzz was going on; it was making things very
interesting for the stoned and drunk trio.

"Watch this," Brad said, "I bet Amber never let you do
this to her,"

Stewart's ex-girlfriend was a certified cock tease and he
watched in awe while Brad pulled down his corduroy pants to
reveal his white boxer shorts.

Like something out of habit, Derek toyed around with the
boxers to take out Brad's growing member.

Derek played with Brad's dick in front of a shocked
Stewart.  Derek grinned because he knew that Stewart was
beginning to squirm.  Stewart had enough and bolted for the
door.

"Don't go, you don't have to be such a pussy all the
time," challenged Brad, "You see, nobody's getting hurt!"

"Damn, you're leading me nowhere," Stewart grumbled,
pushed away some dirty clothes from the bed and sat above the
two.

"Oh, Amber," I wish you would suck me off," Brad said in a
mock Stewart voice.

"You know that I love nothing more than the taste of your
cock," Derek replied in a falsetto meant to play the role of
Stewart's ex.

Derek made Brad's cock disappear into his mouth.  His tongue
danced up and down on Brad's shaft like this was something
they may have tried a few times before.

"I know we should have kept this from you," said Brad in
between very relaxed breaths, "You were always freaking out
over stuff."

Derek let out something that sounded like "mmm-hmmm" in
agreement between slurps on his buddy's penis.

"I just don't think..." Stewart complained.

"Shut up and enjoy the show," replied Brad, "You know you
like what you see.  It's like living in a skin flick instead
of just watching it.  You can't deny that this turns you
on."

A mouth is a mouth, Stewart thought to himself.

Stewart wasted little time in finally acknowledging his own
erection and placed a hand inside his striped pants.  They
were red, white and blue because of the special Bicentennial
sale going on at Penney's.

His cock needed relief fast and he could always imagine that
Amber was in the room.

Rising from the bed, Stewart whipped out his cock from his
zipper and kneeled next to his two friends.  This second cock
distracted Derek and instantly grabbed his attention.

Derek pulled himself from Brad and gleefully told Stewart
that it was about time that he came around.

Derek closed his eyes and started sucking the third member of
their threesome.

Now watching his two friends, Brad removed his boxers and his
orange t-shirt.  He began to stroke his cock to the sight of
this arousing moment.

Derek, without skipping a beat, took off his own pants and
motioned to Brad with a simple come-hither hand motion.

Brad beamed at the sight of his friend's bare ass and
mounted him from behind.  Derek was sucking while being
fucked.

This action continued for a few more minutes as Brad pumped
and Derek sucked.  This was a moment that was destined to...

"I'm gonna..." Brad said as he pulled his cock from
Derek's ass to shoot his cum on the floor in front of him.
Soon after, Derek felt Stewart's nozzle emptying into his
mouth.

An hour was left until the end of their school day and they
cleaned themselves up and got dressed.

Smoking, drinking and fucking.  What else could they do to
finish off their day?  They took a quick nap in each other's
arms.