Fourteen-year-old Marty McFly was a curious kid. Curious about the world around him; curious about skateboarding and the proper ways to get away with as much as he could in life; curious about music and how one could go about getting famous from it. But one of the things he was really curious about, in the fall of 1982, was girls. And sex. He wasn’t sure which subject fascinated him more. Maybe it was impossible to figure out because you couldn’t have one without the other.

Marty hadn’t had a girlfriend, yet, though some of his classmates were starting to hook up with one another. He had just started his freshman year at Hill Valley High School a couple months before, and noticed to his chagrin that he was one of the smallest kids there -- of both sexes! It didn’t work to his advantage with his interest and tentative pursuit of the opposite sex; the guys barely respected him. And the girls seemed to think he was a “cute, funny kid,” more friend than boyfriend material.

His older brother was no help with any advice or information. Dave was nineteen, and had a girlfriend, Sarah, but whenever Marty asked him for details about what he did in his room with the music on so loud, and with his girlfriend in there, Dave would tell him to quit snooping around and that he was too young to ask about that kind of stuff. His friends at school had heard things from their older siblings, or on TV or at rated R movies, and a lot of it really made little sense to Marty when it came to his ears. There was health class, of course, but that seemed to focus mostly on the technical aspects of the deed. It didn’t answer the questions Marty really had. And there was no way in hell he wanted to ask his parents! His mom would probably have a stroke, and the idea of George McFly ever having thoughts remotely like Marty’s was enough to make him shudder.

Doc Brown seemed like he might tell Marty the truth, though. The young teen had been coming over to his place several times a week since the spring to do chores and help the scientist out with experiments. During the time they had been hanging out together, an unusual friendship had been forged. Although Doc had the reputation of being the local nutcase, Marty had found him to be a really cool guy. He listened and offered good advice that wasn’t so parent-y -- and he took Marty’s hopes and dreams of being a rock god seriously, even helping him get a guitar. Doc almost seemed like a teenager himself, though he was in his sixties. Maybe that’s why people thought he was crazy; he didn’t act like typical geriatric.

So, one Saturday in early December, when the weather was rather foul and the McFlys were all at home and cranky, Marty cut out of his house to pay Doc a visit. The inventor was happy to see him, as was his dog, Einstein. Doc was working on something new, a device that could feed the pet on it’s own, and was grateful for Marty’s extra hands to hold things in place.

It was while Marty was sitting there, holding a part for the doc while the inventor was rummaging around in his tool box, that the young teen glanced over to the small cot nearby and saw the mail on top of the bed. And the buxom blond beauty that was posing seductively on the cover of a Playboy magazine.

Marty’s eyes grew huge and his mouth dropped open. Doc didn’t notice the kid’s reaction, cursing under his breath from an elusive tool. Cool! Marty thought, excited by the magazine. He had no idea his older friend had stuff like that! Seemed like only his friends could get their hands on it, usually from lifting it out of the 7-11 or from older brothers’ bedrooms. He wondered if he could look at the magazine later, once they were done with this new gizmo. Doc never treated him like he was some small, annoying kid.

Which made him wonder; maybe the inventor could tell him The Secrets that he really wondered about.

“Doc?”

The inventor grunted. “Yeah?”

“Have you ever... you know... done it?”

Doc stopped what he was doing for a moment, looking up to regard the fourteen-year-old. “Done it?” he echoed, sounding confused. “Done what?”

Marty could have backed down, but he plowed onward, his burning curiosity too much to contain any longer. “It. You know. Done it....” When Doc continued to look at him rather blankly, the young teen realized he had to be blunt. “Sex! Had sex!” His cheeks grew warm as he said it.

“Oh...” Doc said. Then, blinking in a kind of surprise at the wide-eyed face before him: “Oh! Why... what brought this on?”

“I’m just curious, you know,” Marty said. “And no one tells me anything!”

Doc cleared his throat. For some reason, he looked vaguely uncomfortable. “Have you asked your parents about this matter?”

“Yeah, right. They’d freak out. And, gross! Anything they know is probably way outta date.... I tried to ask Dave, but he won’t tell me anything. He says I’m too young to know. And they never tell you the good stuff in health class. They always change the subject if you ask ‘em something interesting. Like, what’s the difference with the bases? First, second, third, and home?”

Doc coughed into his hand, almost dropping the newly found tool. “Bases?” he said, finally.

“Yeah. Some of the guys are always talkin’ bout them getting to first or third base or whatever, but I dunno what the hell that means. And no way am I gonna ask them. They already make enough fun of me ‘cause I don’t got a girlfriend and I’m still shorter than the girls in our class.”

“Well, ah, I have the feeling that the definition for bases varies from person to person, or generation from generation.”

“Do they have, like, some kinda book or manual about it? It never got mentioned in health class, but everyone says I should know what it is. Or they just laugh and don’t answer the question. Are the bases something like porn?”

Now Doc dropped the pliers in his hand. His looked at Marty, his eyes wide. “What?”

“Porn -- like the movies they have of people having sex. I saw some once, at my friend Nick’s house. His dad has cable and got the skin channel after he got divorced. It was really interesting... maybe kind of weird... but I didn’t get how these women would just show up at a guy’s doorstep and then they’d be in the bedroom naked doing stuff.... Is that how it happens? Do girls just show up at your door and take off their clothes?”

Based on the expression that Doc wore on his face -- a look of open mouth astonishment -- Marty wagered that the answer was no. He decided on a different question. “How does sex start? Do people just say, ‘Let’s have sex’ and then it happens? Is there some kinda password or secret gesture or code?”

“Marty....”

The young teen was oblivious to the discomfort in his friend’s voice. “You gotta know this stuff, Doc. Tell me. I’m old enough. What was it like for you?”

“That’s a very personal question.”

Marty snorted. “Don’t tell me I’m too young to know!” he warned. “How old are people when they have sex, anyway? Is it like getting a license -- when you turn sixteen or something?”

Doc sighed. “It’s different for everyone... it’s something that relies far more on emotional maturity, not physical maturity.”

Marty thought about that for a moment then, when he thought he understood, smiled. Better for him, probably, especially if he never hit the oft promised growth spurt. “So, like, when someone turns eighteen? I mean, you get to vote then, right? That kind of maturity?”

“No... emotional maturity. It’s not at any given age. Just as someone’s first sexual experience is not set at any one age.”

“Then how come you can’t get into movies with sex or see those girlie magazines until you’re seventeen or eighteen?”

“Because... because it’s not appropriate for young people to see that sort of thing. Not until they understand it and can understand the context.”

“But how can they understand it if they never see it?”

Doc had the dignity to shrug. “It’s our American society and the laws,” he said. “It’s just done that way.”

Marty’s eyes drifted to the cot nearby, and the Playboy magazine. “So, do you think I could look at that magazine, then, later? To understand things better? It’d be educational; you could answer all my questions.”

Doc’s eyes followed Marty’s gaze to the mail, and his face suddenly grew a funny blushy shade. “Ah... I don’t think your parents would appreciate me doing that. My reputation in the town is damaged enough without being called a pervert who supplies pornography to fourteen-year-olds.”

“I never thought someone like you would get Playboy,” Marty said.

Doc cleared his throat. “What... what did you think I would get?”

“I dunno. National Geographic or Popular Science. Not porn. That’s kinda neat, though.”

“Actually, I do get those periodicals, too.... Hugh Hefner’s publication has some very good articles in it. That’s why I purchase it. I hardly notice the photographs inside.”

Marty was skeptical, though almost everyone he knew said things like that. Well, everyone who wasn’t his age, anyway. Either adults were painfully boring, or they were all liars. “Well, I’d rather look at the pictures,” he said honestly. He changed the subject again, once more. “You never answered my first question, Doc. How old were you when you... you know....”

Doc kind of winced. “Marty, I don’t think this is a very appropriate subject to be discussing with you. And that’s a very personal, prying question.”

Maybe specifics were off limits. Marty thought a moment, then asked another burning question he’d wondered. “What does it feel like? Doing it?”

“Ehah... um... I don’t know how to answer that, Marty.”

“Don’t you know?”

“Ah... well... Most people seem to enjoy the... ah... sensations. This may explain why there is such a proliferation of sexualized images in our popular culture. If it was a very... unpleasant experience, I doubt people would obsess about it so much.”

Marty guessed that was all he was going to get about that oh-so-important question. He went to another one. “Can people only do it at night?”

Doc didn’t drop the since-retrieved tool this time, but the object did slide a bit to one side as he was trying to tighten a connection. “You mean have sex?” he asked.

“Yeah, that’s what I said.”

There was a half sigh. “It’s not limited to solely a nocturnal activity, no. Why all this sudden curiosity?”

“Like I said before -- no one ever tells me anything! I just wanna know stuff.”

“But why? You’re far too young to think about getting involved in an intimate physical relationship.”

Marty focused only on the “too young” part and bristled a little. “I’ll be fifteen in June!”

Doc blinked once, though the young teen thought he detected a glint of amusement in the darker eyes. It annoyed him. “Nevertheless. You don’t have a girlfriend already, do you?”

Marty snorted, sulking. “No. Why girl would wanna date a guy who is a head shorter than ‘em?”

“Then why do you want to know about this now? You have time, after all....”

“Because some of the guys at school already have girlfriends. And... I wanna know what all the fuss is about, y’know? I’m sick of sitting there at the lunch table or at the arcade and not knowing what the hell is so funny or neat.”

Doc nodded once, serious. “Yes, it’s definitely no fun feeling like an outsider. But a lot of the answers to the questions you want to know will come in time, as you get older and grow as a person. I know that sex is a very interesting and exciting subject for you know -- and our society definitely has a lot of ways of providing tons of misinformation or clichés -- but I think fourteen is a tad young to need to know real specifics. If any of your friends claim to have a lot of experience in that area, I would wager that they’re exaggerating. A lot.”

Marty scratched his chin, thinking. “But I wanna be prepared... just in case. What if I get a girlfriend in a week and she expects me to know all this stuff? Mom’s always saying that girls should never make the first move an’ all that, that it’s up to the guys.”

“Well, believe me, I think the girls in your class feel just as clueless as you do.”

This had never occurred to Marty before now. He blinked, staring at Doc with wide eyes. “Really? How would you know?”

Doc didn’t answer immediately, one hand sorting through a box of circuits as the other exposed a circuit board in the device. “There isn’t as much of a difference between men and women as one would think. Biologically, yes, they are quite different specimens, but I imagine that mentally and emotionally they feel and think in much the same ways.”

The scientist was using the big words again. “Can you use English, Doc?”

The inventor glanced over at the fourteen-year-old and smiled faintly. “Men and women aren’t as different from each other as everyone thinks. Or that’s what I believe. Of course, I’m no expert in that area....”

“Yeah; you’re not married. But you’ve been on dates before, right?”

“Ah... a few, yes....”

“So did anything happen on those dates?”

Doc leveled a gaze at him that clearly communicated to Marty that his reservoir of patience had finally been completely sucked dry. The young teen sighed, giving up. “All right, all right, fine. You don’t wanna say. Just leave me in the dark... like everyone else....”

“Prying into the personal sex lives of people is generally frowned upon,” Doc said. “I don’t expect you’ll really understand that until you’re a little older.”

Marty rolled his eyes. “Older,” he groaned. “I wish I had a time machine so I could go into the future an’ ask myself all this -- and see if he knows anything! He’d tell me!”

For some reason, his words caused Doc to drop the tool in his hand once more. Marty didn’t see the funny look that flitted across the older man’s face. He had no idea that the inventor was working on something that could and would travel through time. But even if he knew, doubtless it would decrease his frustration or satisfy his curiosity of that day.

“Things will come in good time, Marty,” Doc finally said, after he had retrieved his tool again. “Have patience. The future will be here soon enough on it’s own.”

“Not soon enough for me,” Marty muttered, impatient.