once I looked under a stack of porn mags
and found a tree.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 26 Jan 2007, 14:03, Reply)

My Dad's collection of Bettie Page postcards when I was 9
One of those moments when a little girl first sees a woman flaunting her sexuality and thinks she's beautiful and wants to be like her even though she doesn't quite know why.

Might explain why I was fantasising about whips and spanking by the time I was 10.

Ah well.
( Spazzcat jam out with your clam out, Fri 26 Jan 2007, 14:00, Reply)

Life Lesson
My first experience of pron ended when my mum found my dad's collection under my bed.

I hid it there, not my dad

She grounded me and stopped me from going to a New Kids on the Block concert.

So there's a lesson for you. Hide your pron well or run the risk of not seeing American boy bands in Whitley Bay.
(Jugular, Fri 26 Jan 2007, 13:43, Reply)

Woof
Although I had seen the obligatory torn-up hedge copy of Razzle when I was about 9, who really cares about softcore? It's just pictures of lady's hairy bits (well, this WAS the very early 80s - I wasn't even aware there was anything more than hair between a lady's legs for a year or two after that).

I reckon you don't get a REAL experience of porn until you see hardcore. And in my case, that happened when I was about 12.

I was friends with a guy a couple of years older than I, who in turn had two Video Recorders in a time when owning a single VCR was rare. One afternoon he decided to show me a new video he'd acquired.

The video in question was Animal Farm, which was in this case not the Orwell Classic.

We sat in silence as we watched a woman getting jiggy with various farmyard animals, and, bizarrely, an Eel. And a bloke shag a chicken and Horse. Then it cut to another scene delightfully entitled "Teenage Dog Orgy". Then the only utterance throughout the whole sorry affair passed between the two of us.

"They're spoiling that dog."
"Yeah..."


Probably not the best way to be introduced to the way of hardcore pornography. It could have really screwed me up.

So my friend put another video on which seemed to contain little more than French blokes snorting what I now know in retrospect was Cocaine off of hairy women's twats.

I was doomed from the start.
(Glis, Fri 26 Jan 2007, 13:37, Reply)

My little brother
He was a mere nipper of twelve when we first got internet access at home. Need I say more? Filthy testosterone-driven horniness, lack of computer-savvy and general dopiness didn't make for a good combination.

* He didn't know how (or it didn't occur to him) to clear browser history. This was a computer also used by his mum, dad and big sister. What a muppet.

* So dedicated was he to the acquisition of porn that he actually kept an A4 ringbinder with printouts. I know this because he once left it open on the coffee table. Presumably this was because he thought it poor taste to sit fwapping at the family computer in the hallway when people were around.

* This one time, our printer was spazzing out as printers are wont to do. When I fixed it, in the presence of both my parents, a zillion pages of hardcore lesbian porn splurged out. My mother thought it was mine and questioned my sexuality for quite some time.

* On another occasion, my father switched on the computer, clicked on a waiting print job, and was presented with another several pages of girl-on-goat action. Little bro got a terse, "I think this must be yours."

* The best bit though was when he managed to run up an £80 phone bill looking at pay-per-minute filth without reading the small print.

Perhaps it's a good thing that there's no porn out there that appeals to girls - this could have been me!
(grandmasterfluffles Come to my Armageddon party on, Fri 26 Jan 2007, 13:29, Reply)

Porn? oh dear oh dear..
Difficult to know the first time. There were the lingerie catalogues of course, my Dad's suspiciously large collection of glamour photography from magazines and then there was the Spanish holiday, with a TV, showing Porkys or something similar (naked women! In a shower!) - I was surprisingly unkeen to go out that day.. There was the kid at school who's mum bought him porn, and the occasional page 3..

Proper porn had to wait till University(!) when people obtained it from the fledgling Internet and BBSes. Gay porn was much later, and to annoy the anti porn lobby I can happily say that I've not been tempted to try anything really unusual or expect partners to look like supermodels as a result of the eevil pr0n. Mind you, my baseline porn quality level has moved a little bit up from grainy B&W pictures years ago ;)

To answer grandmasterfluffles points though.. the reason Ron Jeremy (ugh) and Peter North (impressive muscles, but still ugh) are popular is because they can consistently get an erection and control themselves, whilst under pressure. Prior to viagra they were the only option. As to monster cocks - I suspect some men imagine themselves like that *shrug*.

The rest of your points boil down to personal taste - personally I like seeing sex with both people enjoying themselves, where they're not in pain but others have different tastes. It's perfectly possible to be a feminist and also love BDSM and bukkake.
(EssY, Fri 26 Jan 2007, 13:25, Reply)

Grim really
As a youngster in the days before everyone and his dog had a pc at home, my best friend's step dad had a pc and an office at home. We occasionally used it for homework and for quiet place to chat when he was out.
We found his stash of what I know understand to be hardcore nasty in his desk.
I remember us crying actually, I know it sounds pathetic as I am sure you must think, but it was not very pleasant and I couldn't face going to her house again.
(Siouxfan I'm not staring at you, I am just short sighted, Fri 26 Jan 2007, 13:24, Reply)

It wasnt even a proper photograph
Found my parent's copy of "The Joy of Sex" in the bedroom drawers. I studied it so hard (boom boom) that I even read the text.

But WHY OH WHY did the man featured in the line drawings have to be so hairy?
(BourbonBiscuits, Fri 26 Jan 2007, 13:19, Reply)

Sorry bro...
Not me (I've never ever looked at porn myself - it makes your eyes melt) but when my lovely younger brother was about 11 (he's 23 now) him and a friend decided to use our parent's computer to look at lovely naked ladies. As has happened to many people both before and after my dumb sibling, he forgot to delete the Google browsing history, so that when my mother typed in "geography of Malta" for an Open University paper she was writing, the option "great big boobs" popped up. Fantastic.

Because my mum rocks she thought it would be more fun to wind my brother up rather than telling him off, and my dad hid in the garden and called the house phone when my brother and his friend were over again. My mum then staged a fantastic fake phone call to BT:
"Hello? Yes this is Mrs Lee. Have I got the internet, well yes. No, no it has to be a mistake - there's no one in this house that would do that. You're sure. Naked, you say? Completely? Well, I'm very shocked. The police? Well, I'm sure it wasn't looked at on purpose..." etc,etc.

By the end of the call my brother and his mate were cacking themselves. It was wonderful! It took him a good year to realise that BT didn't call up and threaten to contact the police for looking at boobs on the internet.

His same friend a few months later dared him to go into what they thought was the family planning centre and ask for condoms. He did, but the woman at the counter set him straight and told him, between sniggers, that unless he had a birth, marriage or death to register that he might be in the wrong place.
( hanabanana, Fri 26 Jan 2007, 13:05, Reply)

Confessions of a carpet fitter
My dad runs a carpet shop, and every school holiday since I was about ten, I was sent out with the fitters as their general dogsbody / whipping boy. Something to do with building character and a work ethic apparantly.

Not being trusted to handle anything remotely sharp, or blunt for that matter, I was usually dispatched to pull up the dusty, piss smelling carpets that wanted replacing, while the fitters drank tea and talked about what they did with their missus and an ice cold cucumber the night before.

Usually, the sole reward for this was as much Steve Wright and Gary Davis as I could handle. Then one day, I was dispatched upstairs to start pulling up the bedroom carpet, of what my fetid memory serves up as a comely and buxom lady in her 30s, though was probably a 50 year old harridan. Either way, I pulled up the carpet, pulled up the underlay, and found my sweaty paws filled with polaroids of her being seen to very thoroughly.

I was a bit embararassed, though not too embarassed to stare at them for quite some time, squinting to get as much detail as possible. I didn't want to tell the fitters, lest I be labelled a pervert, so I just put them very neatly on the windowsill, where presumably they stayed until a somewhat shocked housewife found them later that afternoon.

Knowing what I'm like now, I'm amazed I didn't just nick them.

Length? Well, I was only ten.
(Hampton St.Roker (has probably had your mum), Fri 26 Jan 2007, 13:00, Reply)

Burning Embers
Not my first experience of pron (being a good catholic girl, I'd already seen loads) but my little brother, who was about 14 at the time.

He had been given a stash by a mate who'd stolen it off his step-dad (who doubled as pervy caretaker at our school). My brother starts to get a bit nervous about the stash and decides to confess all to big sis and current boyfriend and enlist our help in getting rid before our Mum finds it.

It was November, a bit of a breeze in the air, but a bonfire was already well under way in the garden, thanks to Mum burning a load of furniture. Little Brov makes the suggestion of dropping the mags into the fire? He needs our help as he needs Mum out of the way, as he's deemed not sensible enough to look after fire, since the episode of accidentally setting fire to his mates trainers with a blow torch.

What could go wrong?

Boyfriend and I walk out into the garden and say to Mum, you go inside Mum, we'll watch the fire. She's extremely grateful as wind has gotten up a bit and she's got essays to write for Uni, so she heads inside. Wait 10 minutes and out comes little Brov with said stash and we set to chucking them in the fire, on closer inspection they were all shit anyway.

It's really quite windy now, and too late we notice that little embers of mag are rising into the air and exstinguishing themselves whilst still clearly displaying bits of nip or vadge! Up they go in the heat of the fire and are whisked away by the wind all over our suburban street.

He's never quite lived that one down. Last year, the most recent stash (him then being 25) was discovered when his room got decorated prior to my Mum moving to Ireland.

Length is good when you can get it.
( 99redbuffoons Reversed the polarity of the neutron flow at, Fri 26 Jan 2007, 12:47, Reply)

Channel 4's "Triangle" movies
I'm sure everyone remembers the Channel4 adaptation of "The Rainbow" in the 1980s.

I dont mind admitting I unloaded my pods several times over at Natasha Kinski getting it on with that other bird.

So much so my parents had to buy a new carpet for my bedroom.
(LunarJim, Fri 26 Jan 2007, 12:38, Reply)

Mine was Eurotrash....but a mate's story is better
I won't bore you with my story (basically, it involved Eurotrash, and a story about lesbians in Miami, which is not - geographers will tell you - in Europe), but a mate of mine.

New Years Eve a few years back, I was with the ladyfriend at the time, whereas all my mates were having the time of their lives. After midnight and a few drinks, a mate of mine (lets call him Andy - as that's his name) put his hand up and said "lets all go back to mine".

Andy has a nasty habit of putting on porn after a night out, and we all watching around to watch. It is a strange moment where you, sitting with your friends, are watching some guy jizz all over the chest of a woman. I imagine it'd be something like gangrape, but I digress.

One of the groups Stuart (this is not his name), at the tender age of 20, had yet to see a pair of boobs. Not in the flesh, we're talking ever. Cue Andy putting on some porn, with a voluptuous MILF that went by the name of "Mrs. Johnson" (not her name) doing all sorts of unmentionables to this man. Stuart got an education that night, and was fixated by this Mrs. Johnson.

Stuart sacrificed a life of smut to run business ventures, and he is mega loaded. Cue him taking six months off to find out more and more about this Mrs Johnson. Turns out she is an high class escort in Las Vegas. Stuart took a flight out there, and paid an obscene amount of money for her to take his virginity.

Bless.
(rhyswynne - on every social network mullarkey known to man, Fri 26 Jan 2007, 12:33, Reply)

Razzle-tastic!
I was eight years old when my family moved house, and the ol' fella who kicked his bucket in the house before we got it left a bookshelf in one of the bedrooms.

In this bookshelf was a mint-condition copy of Razzle which me and my brother (who was five at the time) spent many a secret hour flicking through the pages of scantily-clad filth.

Our mum got suspicious and looked through the bookshelf when we were at school and confiscated the mucky mag, much to our unvocalised disappointment.

A few days later she confronted us about it and we denied all knowledge. Oh, what foolish little people we were. We should have hidden it under a mattress!

There was also the "Growing Up" book my mum gave me to avoid having the "Birds and the Bees" conversation. It had drawn diagrams of all kinds of naughty things, which I found mildly arousing.

Oh... and there was her copy of "The Joy of Sex" which made for great underage reading.

During sex education classes at school, I was the most informed, well-read boy and was commended by my teacher in front of the whole class, which embarrassed the fcuk out of me!
( Noeli overtheshoulderboulderholderthingstraplatchboobs, Fri 26 Jan 2007, 12:30, Reply)

I'm suing the producers
of the film 'Snatch' for false advertising.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 26 Jan 2007, 12:28, Reply)

No apologies for length...
I was thinking about this question most of yesterday evening and on the way in to work today and I think probably my first taste of pron must have Enid Blyton. I especially remember ‘John goes to the Haberdashery’, as far as I can recall, it went something like this……

Chapter One

It was a bright and breezy morning in May and just one week until the big historic re-enactment on the river. John was ever so excited, he had re-painted his punt and Janet was hard at work on his wonderful costume.

“John,” said Janet, “there are a few things I need you to buy for me so that I can finish off your costume. Would you go to the haberdashery for me?”

“Yes of course I will.” said John, “That’s the little shop owned by Mrs Briskett isn’t it?”

“Well, she’s Mrs Douglas now,” said Janet, “she can only be in her late 30s, but she’s already been widowed twice and has just got married again. Funny how all her husbands have been much older than her…and rich.”

“Well,” said John, “she’s got a jolly nice shop. All those little drawers full of ribbons and bows, it’s ever so gay.” and off he went.

Chapter Two

Tinkle went the little bell over the door as John pushed it open.

“Good morning Mrs Douglas,” said John, “isn’t it a lovely day today?”

“Oh yes,” said Mrs Douglas brightly, “and not only that, but it’s my birthday today!”

“Oh, happy birthday,” said John, “did you get any nice presents?”

“Oh yes,” said Mrs Douglas smiling, “my husband really rose to the occasion this morning. He bought me a case of Chateau Lafite from the year I was born. I’ve just opened a bottle and it’s got bags of plum and blackcurrant notes, as well as a very pleasing oaky after-taste. Would you like a glass?”

“Thank you very much Mrs Douglas,” said John, “but it’s a little early for me, perhaps later. Anyway, I’ve got a list here of things that Janet needs to finish my costume. I’m taking part in the big re-enactment next week.”

“Right, well,” said Mrs Douglas, “we’d better see what you need. I’ve got a feeling there will be lots of other boatmen coming for bits and pieces for their costumes today. Is your punt ready?”

“I should say,” said John, “I spent all last weekend re-painting it, it looks a treat. My pole looks a little worse for wear though.”

“Well,” said Mrs Douglas, “my husband has got a big jar of linseed oil in his shed. You can come and use it any time you like. Now, what’s first on your list?”

“Right,” said John, “first off is a 12” zip. I’ve brought my collapsible ruler with me, to make sure I get the right one. Last time Janet was cross because I got the wrong one.”

“Ok then,” said Mrs Douglas, “I’ll just reach up here and get the get the box down. You get your ruler out ready.” Mrs Douglas grabbed the box of zips and put it down on the counter, but as she did so she gave a little shriek. “Oh my goodness John, just look in here.” she said.

John leaned over the counter and peered into the box of zips. Inside was a small white mouse.

“That’s my pet mouse,” said Mrs Douglas, picking him up and holding him against her cheek, “I call him ‘Wee Timorous Beestie’ as I’m a Rabbie Burns fan.”

“Gosh, I wonder how he got in there.” said John, “I’ve found the zip I need by the way”

“My,” said Mrs Douglas, “I do like that folding ruler of yours, I must get one. Now, what’s next on the list?”

“Right,” said John, “I need some bright red material, preferably something smooth, and some buttons.”

“Ok,” said Mrs Douglas, “come over here to this cabinet behind the counter and I’ll show you what we’ve got. Here we are, you can choose whatever you like from this drawer, I’m going to get on with sewing up the hem on this mini-skirt. My niece and nephew came over yesterday and the stitches came undone when they were fishing in the rock-pools at low tide.” John started looking through the pieces of material when suddenly Mrs Douglas sighed loudly.

“What’s the matter Mrs Douglas?” asked John.

“I’ve dropped my sewing under the counter John,” said Mrs Douglas, “would you be a dear and pick it up for me?”

“Ok,” said John as he ducked down under the counter. He reached for the sewing but there was something in the way. It was the nets that Mrs Douglas’ niece and nephew had been using the day before. John had to squeeze between them to reach the sewing. “Phew, these really smell of the sea don’t they?” he said.

“Yes,” said Mrs Douglas, “we had a lot of fun yesterday.

“What are all these boxes Mrs Douglas?” asked John.

“Well John,” said Mrs Douglas, “I’m starting a new mail-order business and I need to get all these catalogues put into envelopes and boxed up before lunchtime. I could really do with a hand. If we do these quickly I’ll fetch my very special buttons for you.”

“Ok,” said John, “no problem. Why don’t you put the catalogues into the envelopes and I’ll sit down here on this little stool and seal them up?”

“Oh thank you so much John,” said Mrs Douglas, “I’ll be ever so grateful.”

“Goodness Mrs Douglas,” said John, “what on earth is this on the floor?”

“Ha ha!” she laughed, “my nephew must have left that with his net. It’s one of his stuffed toys, hasn’t it got a funny tail and big teeth.”

“Yes it has,” said John, “right, I’ve sealed all of these envelopes and put them in the boxes. Now for the buttons, do you have any brass ones?”

“Oh yes,” said Mrs Douglas, as she heaved the heavy boxes up onto the counter-top “I can help you there. See all these brass buttons in this box over here with anchors on them? This very special one is from an admiral’s jacket, some are from a captain’s jacket and the rest are from some sailors I met when I used to work in a bar in Portsmouth. The Royal Navy chaps were always ever so kind to me. You just help yourself to what you want”

“Right, well,” said John a few minutes later, “I’ve got the zip, chosen some material and found my buttons, I’d better pay you and get these things back to Janet.”

“Well, as a reward for helping me with the catalogues, I’d like to show you my other birthday present.” said Mrs Douglas, “You can see them from here, see, through this side window. There, what do you think?” said Mrs Douglas, pointing at a bee-hive. “My husband bought me three dozen bees and I’ve already collected the first crop of honey. Would you like to try some?”

“Yes please Mrs Douglas,” said John, “I’ll just put these boxes down for a second.” He dipped his finger into the proffered jar and tried some of the honey, “mmm, it’s delicious.” he said.

“Now we need to get all these boxes out of the way. Would you come through to the back room and bring these boxes with you please?” she asked.

See John carry the heavy boxes through to the back room, he’s puffing a bit because they are so heavy.

“I didn’t really want to carry all these up to the post office on my birthday,” groaned Mrs Douglas, “and my husband isn’t really up to the job and anyway, he’s always tinkering in his workshop. I really can’t think what I ever saw in him.” she complained loudly.

“Are you talking about me dear?” said Mr Douglas, coming into the room, “what on earth is all the fuss about?”

“Oh, nothing,” said Mrs Douglas, “don’t you worry about a thing.”

“Well, while I’m here, have you seen that watch I was fixing?” he said, “I’ve found my special watch-makers instrument, but can’t find the watch.”

“Yes, here it is dear,” said Mrs Douglas, passing him an old pocket-watch.

“Darn,” said Mr Douglas, “now the nut at the end of my instrument is jammed. Could you loosen it for me please my dear?”

“Ok, pass it over here,” said Mrs Douglas. She tried loosening the nut with her fingers but it was too tight, so she held it between her teeth and turned it until it was free. “There you go, now I’ll see you later.” she said as he went back to his workroom.

“God, he is so useless!” complained Mrs Douglas, “next time I might go for someone a little younger, he is so much hard work.”

John blushed a bit and he was starting to sweat under the strain of the boxes, “Here you are Mrs Douglas,” he said, putting the boxes into her arms, “I really must be going now.”

“Wow, these are a lot heavier than I thought,” she said, her biceps bulging, “I must get to the gym more often. Anyway, you run along John, don’t forget we’ve got linseed oil if you need it.”

“Thanks Mrs Douglas,” said John as he dashed back to the front of the shop and out of the door, “I won’t.”

Chapter Three

“Where on earth did you get to John?” said Janet as John rushed through the door.

“Well,” said John, taking a deep breath, “when I got to Mrs Douglas’ shop, she told me I was the first punter of the day. Her husband had given her a very fruity ’69 that morning because it was her birthday, and she asked me if I wanted to try it. Then she pulled down my zip and discovered the Wee Beastie inside, she seemed very pleased and nuzzled it against her cheek. She was very impressed by my fully extended 12-incher and when she invited me behind the counter to rummage in her red satin drawers, she dropped her mini-skirt. She asked me to duck down under the counter and I got my head between her fish-nets, it smelt really fishy but I found her funny beaver. I was going to get up but she said that if I licked her flaps she’d show me her special button. She told me she liked seamen a lot, showed me her 36 bees and I put my finger in her honey-pot. Then she took me inside and started moaning and her husband came in for a watch. He seemed a bit upset but she tried fingering his nuts then put his little tool in her mouth and that cheered him up a bit. When he’d gone she started moaning again and then relieved me of my load. That made her gasp and she clenched her muscles but I think she was fairly pleased with my work because she said I could come round anytime and oil my pole.”

What do you think Janet is going to do with those pinking shears? I hope John’s got enough energy left to run away.
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Fri 26 Jan 2007, 12:16, Reply)

Fiesta c.1986
My introduction to Porn was a stolen copy of the above which I bought for the princely sum of £1.

It featured the immortal "Readers Wives" section consisting of fat middleaged biffers from Walsall with loose flaps.

It also featured a section entitled "One For The Ladies" where I was faced with 7 pictures of proles with their block and tackle out.

Another kid was obviously disturbed by this as during a Social and Personal Education lesson he submitted the anonymous question "Does looking at the pictures of blokes in Fiesta make me a gayer?"
(LunarJim, Fri 26 Jan 2007, 12:08, Reply)

Mum's porn stash
My first porn-like experience was looking at a book of my mums about "womanhood" or some such thing had a whole array of facts about pregnancy and childbirth. This included, to my 13 year old fascination, pictures of a couple having sex in a variety of apparently fertility-friendly ways. In true sex-ed style this was depicted by a set of hand drawn pictures of a woman with bad hair and a bearded man, accompanied by descriptions such as "fig. 10.2a Missionary Position (Face-to-Face, Man on Top)"

As for "proper porn" (you know what I mean; pvc skirts, fishnets and massive cocks) I didn't get anywhere near this until i got internet access at home aged 18.

Now I could pretend that I stumbled across it innocently, having searched for an unwittingly raunchy phrase. This wouldn't be true as I was completely intrigued. I'd never seen any REAL porn, having no brothers and a father who either has a very good hiding place or who is not interested in mucky mags. Therefore I had nowhere I might accidently come across stumble upon such material.

I don't remember much about my first online porn experience. Can't have been that good, can it?
( e.m.m.y. foxtrot uniform charlie kilo india tango, Fri 26 Jan 2007, 11:58, Reply)

as a very young lad
i once found a couple of pages fro ma porn mag stuffed behind the chair in my room. I was so young that I had absolutely no idea why a lady was naked in a chair, and didn't even bother to read the 'article'
so i took it to my mum to ask what it was, who showed it to my dad, who went off and burnt it in the fire. I was then asked where i found it, all po-faced, but i think it was clear i had no idea what was going on. to this day i have no idea whose it was or where it came from.

years later, a lad showed me a hardcore magazine at school (we were 9 or 10)- i just remember being in awe of the size of the cocks
( mictoboy shitting in your cunt since, Fri 26 Jan 2007, 11:49, Reply)

when I was over at a friend's house
he asked me if I wanted to watch a 'Swedish video'. Apparently it was his parents but he'd found it somehow.

My God, what an eye-opener. It had everything: a knight journeying across a plague-ridden landscape, and then he plays chess with Death! You could see everything! And yet, in a sense, you could see nothing, for there was nothing to see - nothing but the absence where once we imagined we saw God.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 26 Jan 2007, 11:46, Reply)

QUOTE:
"Lesbians I could get into a feminist argument about how to the male population in general, lesbians are regarded either as porn stars existing solely for male amusement, or ugly fat mingers who hate men, but I won’t. All I will say is, what makes you think they’ll want you to join in?"

Once I (a male) was having sex with a woman, and she remarked "I'm not a very good dyke am I?". I felt that, on the contrary, she was an outstanding one.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Fri 26 Jan 2007, 11:30, Reply)

The Page Three House
When I was about 9 a lad moved into the house backing onto my friend's garden. He was an unpredictable fucknut with a penchant for hitting people with sticks and a huge alsation. However, he had a tree house, so we liked him. In the tree house he had a chest that he wouldn't let us look in. We could see bits of newspaper sticking out, but couldn't understand why anyone would keep newspaper. So, one afternoon when we knew he'd gone out we sneaked into his garden, climbed up into the tree house and broke into the chest. It was packed full of cut outs from Page 3. Piles and piles of tits and arses (and no Dear Deirde/closet racism). After that we kept a close eye on when he was out and would climb back into the tree house and ogle as often as we could.

When we finally got tired of him and his sticks we waited until he went out one afternoon and spread the entire stash across his garden. His dad went balistic to come home and find his precious garden pretty much covered with Denise from Essex and Roxanne from Romford.
(geekboy Hillbilly., Fri 26 Jan 2007, 11:29, Reply)

Fäbodjäntan.
We had a neighbour known as "penfold" after i was noticed that he looked and acted like Danger-Mouse's side-kick.

His wife was strict, his kids: all girls. That man needed an outlet. He was the first to get a Satelite dish, and made it his mission to record porn.

Months later, his stock was huge, and he started to distribute it among the other guys he knew in the neighbourhood.

**************

My dad once told me of a film he'd seen.. where a woman would blow a horn (no pun.. it was a gert-big brass horn) and people would become horny and start to shag. This - he declared - was the funniest porn he'd seen... Sadly he'd recordeed over it.

**************

Years later i end up in Sweden...

2 years after that i discover a film that people recommend: the film that turned the phrase "swedish movie" into something synonymous with "pron movie"

I downloaded it and watched in awe as a woman blew a horn... and people started to shag.

I give you "Fäbodjäntan"... the original porno film, with great scenes such as a middle-aged woman abusing herself with a "Falukorv"

and no.. those are not baby-tomatos.

www.mostorpsgard.se/bilder/img_falukorv.jpg

Torrent it people... Go forth and watch the woman with her horn of hornyness.
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Fri 26 Jan 2007, 11:29, Reply)

barely legal
My dad was a photographer and had loads of reference books. He specialised in landscapes and so they were all pictures of lovely hills and waterfalls and such like. Except one. The seemingly (then) innocent title - Dreams of Young Girls. That alone would get you locked up nowadays. One great big hardback book with stunningly well shot images of nubile young women in fields and meadows being hippychic. hats, yes. floaty scraves and beads, yes. Any other item of clothing? Absolutely not! It still makes me feel squoodgy thinking about it. I was about 7, that was a long long time ago.
(kaptinkurtz, Fri 26 Jan 2007, 11:27, Reply)

One word
Eurotrash.
(grandmasterfluffles Come to my Armageddon party on, Fri 26 Jan 2007, 11:27, Reply)

Malandra Burrows
Also, there was the time I rubbed one one out over a fully-clothed Malandra Burrows from Emmerdale. And I'd do it again!

Well, here you go. We'll watch.
(Emily Bruce-Dickinson http://jovialfellow.blogspot.com/, Fri 26 Jan 2007, 11:26, Reply)

When I was a lad...
...I remember sitting in the library at school with my mate Al, when a couple of kids came over and asked if we wanted to see some porn. We said yes, and they showed up a couple of glossy mags for a moment, then went on their way.

"Phew" I said, "They had nice boobs". My friend Alex looked at me and said "But didn't you see their pussies?" "No" I said, naively, and a little distraught to have missed my first view of a sopping cunt - well, the first since I was born anyway.
He had to call them back over. Shameful.

As I got older I grew a lot taller and hairier and therefore became used to boldly strolling into the Newsagents at Thurrock Lakeside and purchasing a jazz periodicals. Before this happened though I would spend hours whacking over the panties section in the Kays catalogue. Also, there was the time I rubbed one one out over a fully-clothed Malandra Burrows from Emmerdale. And I'd do it again!
(misteroz, Fri 26 Jan 2007, 11:22, Reply)

Sins of the almost step father...
(Circa 1985)I was thirteen & had made friends with the son of one of my neighbors a few doors down the road.
I remember him telling me excitedly that he'd found the key to a wooden chest in his parents bedroom & "You won't believe what was in there"
So, later that day I'm round little Jimmy Evans house minus the parents to see what all the fuss was about. He put on a video he'd found in the chest.

Lots of joff flying all over the place,slow-motion cum shots, masturbation,anal sex over a pool table, some bloke shooting his load over a T.V set?!?. It was vastly superior to any sex education we were learning at school, we were riveted!

This would a comfortable memory if it wasn't for the fact that Jimmy's parents split up several years later.

"What's so bad about that?!" You many wonder.

His Dad is now regularly dating my Mother!

In fairness he is a top bloke but It was hard to get him to look me in the eye when I brought the matter up shortly after their romance started.
(hiab-x, Fri 26 Jan 2007, 11:22, Reply)