I first discovered gay pornography at the age of 13, on a trip to New York, where I bought a copy of Inches from a newsstand vendor who somehow managed to remain ignorant of the fact that I hadn’t hit puberty yet. Inches was a revelation to me, as I had theretofore been limited pretty much to the strip club scene in Bachelor Party. There was a story about these two guys who had an affair with a guy who could suck himself off, and then at the end of the story the surprise twist was that the guy had a twin. I can’t tell you how exciting I found this.
In any event, I returned home to South Carolina and started trying to figure out how I could get more of this stuff. I realized pretty quickly that the local purveyors of such material probably wouldn’t be as accomodatingly blind as the newsstand vendor in New York. So I went to B. Dalton’s, where they sold Inches and a few similar publications, picked up a copy surreptitiously, and stuffed it in my jacket when nobody was looking.
Before I left, however, I dropped a five dollar bill on the floor, because I knew that stealing was wrong.
I just wish I could have gotten change.