When I was eighteen years old, I had a friend from the neighborhood that was a few years older than me. He was twenty-one, I believe. Anyway, he came over to my house to visit me one day, as he often did, and we had gone down to the basement just to goof off. Well, he said he had to pee and asked if there was a bathroom down there. There wasn't, so I told him just to pee down the water drain in the floor. He did, and as we were going back upstairs, he was zipping up his pants from when he took a leak. I didn't notice it, but my mom did. She had asked me later if he was doing anything with me sexually. I was more than a little disturbed by that because it took me by surprise. Well, anyway, the next time I saw my buddy I told him about what my mom asked me and what she had been thinking. We got a good laugh about it. But then the more we got to talking about it, the more it kind of got us to thinking it might actually be fun to really do something. So, the next few times he came over, we went straight to the basement. The most I ever remember doing is sitting there on the floor holding each other's tools. It was fun for awhile, but it just kind of stopped happening. Thanks, Mom!

— Bart, 29