My senior year of college, I fucked. A lot. Because I was dating Susan Switzer [not her real last name, natch] and when you dated Susan Switzer, you fucked. Like mad. Because that's what Susan Switzer liked to do, when she wasn't taking Jaegermeister intravenously or threatening to lay some cop's cheek open with a smashed beer bottle.
Yes, Susan was tits-up loony, but she liked her sex. And she enjoyed videotaping it as well. So we taped ourselves. Often. From angles that would have made Kubrick jealous. And then we'd watch them. Critique the camera work, the lighting, the way my ridiculous li'l Irish pecker always seemed to bring down the production values. Typical pillow talk.
Couple years later, I'm drinking at a buddy's apartment where a bunch of us have gathered to get a bit stupid. I mention some of my home-made cinematic masterpieces, and I soak in the "oohs" and "aahs" from the crowd. Then our host, whom we'll call Graber, says he's got some stuff that'll beat mine five days a week and twice on Sunday. In fact, he wants to show it to us. So he does.
Hours and hours of it. Him and his Vietnamese girlfriend, who can't be a day over 21 and whose body can only be described as "fucking marvelous."
I thought Susan and I had some good shit working. But these guys blew us away. Props. Costumes. Plotlines. Dialogue! In one video, she's dressed as a Catholic school girl, snapping her bubble gum while Graber administers "stern punishment." In another, she's an alien visitor and Graber's going all Captain Kirk on her impossibly round ass. Yet another has an "experimental" theme, including some slow-mo "money shots" with a Nine Inch Nails soundtrack and a bizarre segment in which his girlfriend attempts to sit on the camera lens.
And he's got. more. tapes. And we watch all of them. Not because we enjoy watching Graber's mealy white ass going to town, but because we're all amazed at the time and effort that went into this stuff. And did I mention how hot the girlfriend is? Because she is.
Anyway, after a couple hours of this, Graber heads into his bedroom and pulls out a little something he "borrowed" from the company he works for. It's a projector, normally used for presentations, but when appropriated by pervs like us, it's used to showcase Graber's handiwork on the largest flat surface in his apartment, which happens to be the cloth blinds that cover the sliding glass doors to his deck. So he closes the blinds tightly and it's almost like watching it on a real movie screen, because the material the blinds are made from has that light "movie screen" look and feel to it. So off go the lights and on goes the projector and six feet by eight feet goes Graber's cock. And we're watching. For hours. And the girlfriend's costumes include belly dancer garb, a '50s diner waitress, a zookeeper and a scientist studying the effects of handjobs on security guards.
And this goes on and on and on. Until someone asks: "Hey, can you see through those blinds?"
"Huh?" we replied, collectively.
"I mean," he asks again, "those blinds are kinda light. Could this projection be seen on the outside as well?"
So, in the name of science, we head outside. Into the courtyard. And we turn to look up at the sliding glass doors that lead to Graber's deck. And sure enough, there's Graber's girlfriend's mouth, working him over in a most impressive manner. The picture's reversed, but it's still shining as bright and clear as any drive-in movie you'd ever see.
And there are Graber's neighbors. Taking it all in. Including a 65-year old dude across the way, pulling from a can of Schlitz and yelling, "This is awesome!"
And it was. So awesome, in fact, that some of us stayed outside to watch.
From that day on, Graber's neighbor's called him "The Man."
