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.