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This is a question My first experience of porn

So there I am, aged 11, crawling through the woods with the Scouts when we come upon a big pile of magazines stuck into a tree. Risking losing the game by being seen, we stand up to knock them down.

They flutter down in a big heap - and behold, they are full of nudey ladies!

Crawling through the woods suddenly lost its appeal...

What was your first experience of porn?

(, Thu 25 Jan 2007, 15:29)
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Operation: Buy Porn
Buying porn mags from newsagents was one of the scariest things a young man had to go through. You internet-generation kids will never understand. It had to be planned meticulously, and executed to perfection.

When I was about 16 I grew tired of waiting for the raggedy second-hand porn mag currently doing the rounds at school to finally reach me. It would cost about 6 by then, half the pages would be missing, and I didn't even want to think about all the spermy fingerprints. It wasn't acceptable. I wanted my own. I wanted a fresh copy. A virgin copy. And I didn't want to give it to anyone else afterwards. I needed to plan the operation. Here I will try to break down the process of buying porn from a newsagent:


CHANCE OF BEING SERVED:
I was a big lad and I looked 18, so there was a good chance of being served, but it was still a gamble. Should I try to act big and manly when I walk in? Do certain shopkeepers have a reputation for being tough about such matters? I had to plan my reaction if challenged about my age. These techniques apply equally well to the purchase of alcohol.

CHOICE OF NEWSAGENT:
Perhaps the biggest single choice in the operation. Large chain stores were out of the question for two main reasons: they were always occupied by customers, and had only a small selection of pornography. Small corner-shop newsagents were by far the better choice. They had a much wider selection of magazines and smaller customer traffic. So which shop to choose? You had to use a newsagent where you couldn't be recognised, but within walking distance. I compromised on this issue due to physical laziness. I chose a nearby newsagent where customers could have recognised me. It was a risk.

Secret Spies were a big problem. Often a complete stranger would stop me in the street to say, "Hey, you're [SqueakyG]! I know your mum! I can see the family resemblance." Then the next day my mum would say, "Oooh, so-and-so from work said she saw you in town..." As you can imagine, my paranoia over these Secret Spies threatened to destroy the entire operation. They could be anyone. They would know me and I would be completely unaware. Therefore, the newsagent would have to be completely empty of customers when I made my purchase, just to be safe.

RECONNAISSANCE AND TEST-RUNS:
I visited the newsagent several times to purchase other items, such as sweets and the NME. This was valuable for checking out the following factors: The layout of the shop; the placement of porn magazines on the top shelf (quick glances, no staring); the members of staff, their general shift patterns, and a quick assessment of their peronalities (likely to question my age? etc); customer traffic at different times of day, how often the shop is empty of customers.

MALE OR FEMALE STAFF?
This question went though my mind. Obviously I would ABORT if it was the young girl behind the counter. She would have had ties to my secondary school, perhaps even know my sister, and the whole concept was disturbing. So it was a choice between the middle-aged gentleman or the middle-aged lady. Would one or the other judge me badly? Was it better to let the man serve me, because he'd understand male needs and not judge me? Or perhaps it was more intimidating for the man to serve me? I decided that I could be served by either of them equally.

PLAN OF ACTION:
By analysing these things I devised my plan of action. I would go to the newsagent on a weekday daytime, my day off school (A-levels by then). 2pm was the sweet timeslot, when kids are back in school after their lunch break. I would walk around the block until a perfect time when the shop is empty and no other customers are approaching. I would walk in, grab a copy of Escort (the only mag I had familiarity with, no time to waste choosing another), pay for it swiftly, and leave. If any complications arise, ABORT. If it's the young girl behind the counter, ABORT. If another customer enters, ABORT.

TRANSPORTATION OF CARGO:
They always put it in a thin transparent plastic bag, don't they? That was no good for my needs. I chose instead to wear my big thick coat, despite the hot summertime weather, as it had a big inside pocket that could fit a rolled up magazine. The time of day had to correspond with my parents not being home, because if they were home they may ask questions like, "Why are you wearing your big coat?" or "Why are you taking your coat up to your room?"

CONQUERING MY FEAR:
Fear is the mind-killer. It threatened to destroy all my efforts. Fear was the cause of several aborted attempts. I had to convince myself that my fear was illogical. I presented myself with several logical arguments: "The newsagent *wants* to sell you porn. That's why they have it for sale. Why would they make you feel uncomfortable about buying it and risk losing your custom? These small self-owned businesses need to sell porn to stay afloat, they depend on it. And hey, everyone has sexual needs. Don't worry."

FIRST AND SECOND ATTEMPT: FAILURE.
Chickened out.

THIRD ATTEMPT: SUCCESS.
Scoped the place. In. Grab Escort. On the counter. Paid. Got change. In the coat pocket. Out. Home. Wank. Nice one!

EPILOGUE:
It got easier as time went on. I became bolder. I was able to look around the top shelf for a while, and naturally realised that Escort wasn't the bastion of pornography. I found Mayfair, Men Only and Club International. Later on I found the 3.99 American ones that did spread-open fanny flaps. Then the internet came along, and made this entire story obsolete.


This QOTW makes it way too easy to apologise about length.
(, Fri 26 Jan 2007, 18:24, closed)

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