Red handed
Fourteen was a good age for me. For kicks my friends and I vandalised a derelict old hospital where, on one occasion, we came across a ragged damp pile of porn magazines that had been left by a tramp that squatted in the derelict site. Needless to say, we took one of the magazines and skim read it.

We took it back to my home (my home was parent-less most of the day), lost interest in it, and left it on the dinner table. Later, whilst playing resident evil 2 with two friends, I went to find out where my other friend had gone; why did he not want to shoot zombies?

Opening the living room door revealed my friend, hunched back double on my cream coloured sofa, pumping his tool with the magazine laid out in full display on the coffee table. A cocktail of horror and disgust flushed through me. Screaming I ran to the bathroom to throw cold water in my face in a futile attempt to wash out my scarred eyes. My other friends ran to the scene of the crime to see him sat there--trousers up--smiling on the sofa; he outright denied it.

With respect, through, his tool was bigger than mine.
(joedoggyuk, Fri 18 Feb 2011, 22:38, 1 reply)

I read that as 'scared' eyes....
... and the image of somone trying to wash the fright out of their eyes deserves a click, even if that's nto what you meant.
( lucosade is counting down the minutes until, Mon 21 Feb 2011, 15:50, closed)