Game Day Glory

Eleven years ago, when I was a young nineteen-year-old girl, my friend Anna and I found a gloryhole down in her basement. A shockingly surprising oddity, it had been kept secret by her parents, and when we found it neither one of us could believe that they'd have such a thing. I have a vivid memory of Anna's embarrassment when she and I first saw it and realized what it was.

With me being her very best friend, I spent lots of time at her house, a house her parents still live in today. The basement has a nice game room that her father built, with some comfortable chairs, a couch, a pinball machine, a pool table, a huge TV on the wall. There's a fairly sizable bar at one end of the room, with a refrigerator and a sink built right into it, and neon signs are hung all around the room, advertising old-fashioned brands of beer. Anna's father keeps the liquor all locked up in cabinets underneath the bar, but when we were eighteen Anna found the key somehow and had one made to keep for herself.

There's another room right next to the game room, more of a woman's room I guess you'd say, where Anna's mother has a fancy sewing machine and all the stuff for making the jewelry and handbags that she sells, hippie style things with a rock and roll vibe. Back then, there was a couch in that room, the pull-out kind that turns into a bed. I slept on it a few times with Anna, when she and I were younger and did sleep-overs there. Usually it was just us two girls, and before bed we'd watch scary movies on the big TV in the dark game room. Her father would sneak down there once in a while, just to scare us. We always screamed, and laughed hysterically.

There's a bathroom down there, too, out in a hallway that turns and leads to the staircase to the upstairs. The sewing room has a door that's right across from the stairs. It all seemed sort of patched together, like there was one room, and then two, and then the rest, without a plan to make it flow in any kind of normal way. Maybe a lot of 'finished' basements are that way, just sort of thrown together by fathers with hammers.

It was autumn when we found the gloryhole. Anna's parents were out at a party that night—they went to lots of parties—so Anna and I smoked a joint in the backyard, then we went down to the basement and started sipping on some coffee brandy, the stuff that tastes like really good cough syrup. You had to be twenty-one years old to go to a real bar, so we loved sitting at her dad's bar, with the beer signs lit up and music playing, sipping on some sort of liquor, pretending we were older. You remember how it was — nineteen feels pretty young when you're stuck in it. Not a little girl anymore, but not yet a fully adult woman.

Standing up from her bar stool that night, Anna lost her balance, laughing because it was the weed and the nice little brandy buzz that did it. Staggering backward in a flailing attempt to stay on her feet, her shoulder hit the wall quite hard and rattled something loose. We thought it was one of the fancy beer signs, and worried that it might fall, but when we looked closer we saw that the bottom of the wall had come loose. The whole room is paneled, and this piece was about two feet wide and went all the way from the floor to the ceiling. Up there, just below the moulding up by the ceiling, it looked different somehow — there's a crack there, a seam, I guess you'd call it, that was different than the rest of the wall. Anna said she'd never noticed it before. Curiosity was always one of Anna's traits when she got high; pretty soon she'd realized that some hidden hooks, up at the top, held this loose piece of paneling, so she lifted it off of them.

I almost burst out laughing. I would have, but it was just too much of a 'What the fuck' moment. Hidden under that removable panel is another, fixed panel, this one slightly thicker, stronger plywood, and on it is a crudely painted naked lady, full sized, looking like she's standing on the floor. It's the back view, but sort of hot looking, with a skinny waist, curvy hips, a nice round ass, and blonde hair just like Anna's mother's. The thing that made us both freak out, though, was the hole in that panel of plywood, right where this lady's ass or pussy is, the edges of the hole sort of smooth and...used looking. Sort of dirty, you know? Not sexy dirty, but...dirty like it's been used.

"What the fuck!" I said.

At first, Anna was too shocked to say anything, but then... "Is that... what I think it is?"

"I think...maybe," I said. It was a weird situation. I didn't know what to say. "She looks...kinda like your mom."

Anna nodded. Yes, the height, the hips, the hair. Maybe not the skinny waist, but, that could be the way Anna's mom wanted it to look. She's the crafty one in the family, so I was thinking Anna's mother painted it herself.

Anna tried to put her hand through the hole, but it was solid on the other side. I followed her as she went in search of some answers, neither of us speaking, and we immediately noticed a similar seam up near the ceiling in the sewing room. We took off that panel, and there, just like the game room side, was a crude painting, this one a naked man, with the hole right were his dick would be. And yes, the man looked a lot like Anna's father.

For hours after our discovery, up in Anna's bedroom, we searched and watched gloryhole porn. Anna and I had watched porn together before, just run of the mill normal stuff, nothing too out there. I wouldn't exactly call gloryhole porn 'out there', but it's a distinct avenue that I, and probably she, had never even thought about. So we watched some, and watched some more, all the while thinking about the painted lady and the painted man, down there in the game room wall that we'd quickly closed up.

"So...what are you thinking?" I asked. "Do you think...it's just your mom and dad? Maybe, like, a fantasy of theirs?"

Anna shrugged. "Maybe," she said. Lots of her answers where only one word ever since first seeing the hole. I let her think for a minute, and she said, "These porns are all, like, parties. It's kinda like...gang bang stuff."

I nodded. Anna and I had never talked about kinky sex, but now seemed to be the time to discuss it, at least a little bit. "Gang blowjobs, too," I said, letting the idea of it sink in, then, "You're dad wouldn't cheat on your mom if she wasn't there, I don't think, not with her picture painted on it, so, they must both be in on it, right?"

Anna sat still, her eyes different. "They have parties down here," she said. "They always used to kick me out, remember? I'd come sleep over at your house. And now...I'm trying to think...they always have them, most of them, when I'm not here. They ask me, and then a couple days later Mom'll say, 'Oh, we're having some people over. Good thing you won't be home, we won't have to worry about bugging you with all our classic rock.' She always laughs about it, like we're doing each other a favor," Anna said.

We never did come to a real conclusion about things that night; in the days after, I could tell Anna was still curious. When we weren't working at our crappy jobs we spent almost all our time together, so it didn't surprise me much one night, about two weeks later, when Anna said, "Mom and Dad are having a party. We need to sneak in."

I nodded, knowing just what she meant.

-

We approached her house the back way, in the dark, through the neighbors' yards. Pink Floyd's music was loud enough to be heard, the party raging below ground, down in the basement game room. It was too risky to walk in through the front door, so Anna and I snuck in through the screened porch out back, through a door that she'd left unlocked. We took off our shoes and quietly hurried to her bedroom just down the hall. Being a house with just one floor, the music was thumping right below us. We heard both men's and women's voices. We heard sex, but not like a wild orgy. It was different.

"I think the men are all in the game room," I whispered.

Anna nodded, listening, her eyes intense.

I asked, "Are the women...all in the sewing room?"

"I think so," Anna whispered.

Things in Anna's room started to rattle as a rhythmic thumping thudded below us. "Are they doing it?...Are they fucking through the hole?...Oh my God!"

We listened to all of it, our eyes wide with surprise as the sound of a man moaning and cumming made the hairs on my arms stand up. The woman didn't make a sound, at least not one we could hear.

"Maybe it's...like a secret. Nobody knows who's on the other side," I said.

Anna nodded. She looked stunned, but not freaked out in a bad way. We heard a knocking below us, like knuckles on wood.

"Oh, here we go," a man's voice said. "They're fuckin' horny tonight."

A few seconds later he moaned, saying, "Oh, fuck yeah. Suck it. Suck that cock......Oh, shit, she's fuckin' good. Who the fuck are ya, darlin'? You like my big cock?"

The other men laughed. "Dicky, you're breakin' the rule again. Supposed to be quiet, remember?"

"Yeah, like they don't recognize our moans."

His happy moans began again, getting louder and happier, and then he came.

A minute later, more rapping knuckles.

"Oh, Shit!" Anna's father said. "A tube of lube! Somebody's goin' anal tonight. How come I'm not next in line? Wanna trade?"

Anna and I sat on her bedroom floor for a short time more, listening. This time the woman couldn't stay silent, her moans turning into something like animal noises as her ass was fucked. It was one of the strangest experiences of my life, sitting there, almost directly above her, this mystery woman with a mystery cock deep in her ass, the thumping, wall-rattling fucking making her scream.

The men cheered when it was over, and we heard what sounded like them banging their beer bottles on the bar. I don't know about Anna, but it gave me goosebumps. Anna took my hand and hurried me out of there, out into her back yard, across her back neighbor's lawn, down the sidewalk toward the dark nighttime shadows of the local park. There, under the tall trees and the nighttime stars, she said, "I'm doing it." They were three words that sent shivers all through me.

It took me a few stunned moments to respond. "Doing...that?......How?" I asked.

"I don't know yet," she said. "There's gotta be a way."

"Anna, what the fuck! That's...your dad! "

Anna blushed, red enough that it could be seen even in the dark night shadows. "You won't tell, will you?" she said. "I mean...it's crazy. I don't want people to think I'm a slut."

"Have I ever told on you, about anything?" I said. "Of course I won't tell, especially about this. But seriously, kid, what's going on in your head? Tell me. Tell me your plan so I can talk you out of it."

"No plan...yet," she said. "But I mean, it's hidden. They don't know who's on the other side, right?"

"Well yeah, but...I mean, it's hot, but...it could never happen. Your mom would be there. And if you're thinking of asking her I'm going to have to strongly disagree."

Anna smiled. It was nice to see the intensity in her eyes turn mellower, at least a little. "I won't ask her," she said. "You know me, I'm good at devious shit. I mean God, Megan, how hot is this? Sneak in, sneak out, get fucked by more than one guy, maybe suck more than one cock."

"It's pretty hot," I said. "But...are you forgetting your father, or is that a part of this crazy fantasy?"

A smirk lit up Anna's face. "If you're with me the odds will be better that I don't get him."

"Fuck, Anna," I said, laughing at the absurdity. "I mean, I expected you to try and drag me into this, but that's gotta be the most interesting way ever." I looked right into her smirking eyes. "So, you have no problem with him fucking me? You'd better think this shit through, Anna, because I just might say yes."

Shockingly quickly, Anna said, "I'll figure out how we can do it. It'll be a football night. He has friends over and Mom sometimes goes out."

I shook my head, thinking no, she'll never go through with it.

—

When Anna and I were both thirteen, back in middle school, she started learning how to imitate her mother's handwriting, so as to write notes to teachers about various things. She got very good at it, so I wasn't entirely surprised when she told me her plan for getting us in on the gloryhole — she'd write a note to her father, making it look like it was from her mother, and the rest of it, the sneaking around and the secret fucking and cocksucking, would just fall into place, or so she said.

And so she wrote it—a good enough forgery written in her mom's handwriting—and I read it, and our horny nineteen-year-old minds said yeah, this might actually work. The way I remember it, the note went something like this:

You probably don't remember her, but we met a girl at a party a couple months ago. Her name is Candice. I ran into her when I was shopping yesterday. She wants to know if we can 'open the wall' wink wink. Get it ready tonight, if you want, and we'll just be there.

Oh how we agonized over the choice of the woman's name. Candice was one of the many options we debated; I voted for it each time, thinking it was sexy but not too sexy like Candy, or Ginger, two names Anna wanted to use.

Anna said her father always goes down to the basement to get the bar ready before his friends come over to watch a football game, so, that Saturday morning, a day that we knew was the first really big rivalry game of the year, we left the note there, on the bar, and we went upstairs to Anna's room to wait. The whole idea — everything about everything — was starting to feel really fucked up to me, but I have to admit I was excited and horny. Neither I nor Anna had had a boyfriend in a while, and, speaking for myself, I can say that at that point in my life I'd never had sex that was worth a shit. I mean, it wasn't terrible, but it was nowhere near the kind of crazy goodness you see in porn. So yeah, this idea of the gloryhole, it was getting rooted in my head pretty thoroughly, even if it was fucked up and crazy. I was surprisingly ready for it, more and more, as the clock moved toward game time.

Things got a little strange that afternoon when Anna's father came upstairs and knocked on her door. "Anna, you got a minute?" he asked.

Anna looked nervous when she opened the door. "What's up, Dad?"

Her dad saw that I was there, and his face got weird. It sometimes does. I don't know why, I'm not hot or anything. Anna always said it's because I've got a bangin' ass, a 'sweet badooka', she sometimes called it. Maybe, I guess, but is that enough? Are older guys like Anna's dad really that ass crazy? "Oh, Hi Megan," he said to me. "I...didn't know you were here."

"Hi Mr. Jenkins," I said, blushing and tingling all of a sudden. My hornies were suddenly on fire, and I didn't want them to be. Embarrassing!

"Did you see your mother earlier?" he asked Anna. "I was getting the bar ready and...I was wondering if she remembered that today is kind of a big game. There's gonna be more.. guys... here.... thaaan..... norrrmalll." That's the way it sounded to me, like the words coming out of his mouth were all slowing down, like slow motion. "I.. invited... yourrrr.... fatherrrr..... toooo..... Megannnnnnn," he said.

Anna looked as stunned as I was. She tried to hide it, but her pink blushing face was pretty obvious, to me at least. I could hear her trying to hide the shock in her voice when she said, "Megan's... father's coming?"

"Yeah," Mr. Jenkins said. "I ran into him at the hardware store the other day. I told your mother, but...I don't know, maybe she forgot. She told you she's over at Aunt Brie's today, right? Uncle John's coming here, for the game. Dick, and Glen, a couple other guys. I told your mother all this, but...... anyway, what are you guys...doing today? I thought you said you were going out."

"Yup. Our friend is having some people over," Anna told him. "I won't be home till tonight, probably late."

"Cool, yeah," Mr Jenkins said. "Well...yeah. It might get a little crazy here, so...I just ...you know...wanted to let you know what's what."

Mr. Jenkins closed Anna's bedroom door slowly, like he wasn't sure he wanted to, but then the latch clicked and we heard his footsteps walk away. There was something very odd about the way he was acting.

"Oh my God, he thinks Mom's a total slut now," Anna said. "Dad's brother, your father, all those other guys." Her eyes looked a little glazed as she started rolling a joint. A big fat one.

"Anna, what the fuck," I said. "How high do we have to be to think going through with this is a good idea? Time to pull the plug, kid, and forget all this. Let's get the fuck outta here."

We sat there a little while more, saying almost nothing. We knew her dad was back in the basement because he turned on the music down there, and we heard the clinking of bottles and glasses as he set-up his bar. We heard the arrival of the first two of his friends, and still neither Anna nor I said much of anything. She put a fan in her bedroom window, switched it on so as to exhaust the marijuana smell to the outdoors, and she lit up the big fat joint. Anna passed me the weed, I took a huge, deep drag on it, and blew out a cloud toward the fan. I didn't say anything. Anna didn't say anything. There was no way we could justify any part of what we'd started, so we didn't even try. We'd done some crazy things together, she and I, but nothing as fucked up as what we were planning to do that day, and yet we sat there, didn't bail out, didn't pull the plug. I knew it was just a matter of time, a few minutes more, a half an hour maybe, and we'd come to our senses, the two of us running away, through the backyards like the little girls we almost still were, giggling about how close we'd come.

The big joint seemed to burn, and burn, and burn. Lungful after lungful. Thank God we were old veterans at getting high or we'd have been rolling on the floor laughing, and we certainly would have been giggling when we snuck downstairs, just ten minutes after the killer joint burned all the way down to a brown-stained roach. The football game was under way; Mr. Jenkins' friends were all there. High as fuck, Anna and I somehow made it down to her mom's craft room without being seen or heard. I was sure we were just scouting things out, seeing how it could be done on another day when it was all a little bit more sane, when just Mr. Jenkins and maybe one or two other guys were there. Did I just call that sane? No, all of it was insane. Every little bit of it.

I closed the door behind us as quietly as I could, and the room, being in the basement, with no windows, became completely dark. Anna lit the BIC lighter that she carries for weed smoking, and she found one of the scented candles that her mother burns while she's making her hippie jewelry. In the flickering light of that single candle, we stood still and listened.

The game room TV was turned up loud, the football game early in its first quarter, the crowd at the stadium raucous. Anna's dad and his friends were rowdier than I thought they'd be so early in the afternoon. They'd only had time for one or two beers, I figured, but maybe they guzzle them down when they're with friends watching football.

I listened for my father's voice. It wasn't clear at first, but then I heard his laugh. I didn't know the other men, but Anna knew them all. "Uncle John. Oh my God," she whispered, eyes wide after she heard his deep voice.

The panel that hides the gloryhole had been removed on our side of the wall, the crude, life-sized painting of Anna's naked father looming there in the dim flickering candlelight, but we couldn't see through the hole; the panel that hid the game room side of it was still in place.