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)
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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First purchase
I'd just bought a very rusty, white Ford Transit with bullbars, primarily for moving my universe of shit to my first London flatshare with a mate, but also to help him out moving gear around for gigs. On one of the drives to the big smoke, we stopped for fuel and my friend decided that as I was now a white van owner, there should be a dirty mag sitting face up on the dash under the windscreen.
My virgin experience of actually buying Club (always better quality in my view) wasn't at all seedy until the 'whipper-snapper' cashier proclaimed "Ooh, that's fucking nice that is, cor look at her...", before rubbing the cover vigorously on his crotch. Nice.
The magazine never really moved from the dash until I had to visit the reclaim yard it was sitting in after being wrecked in a police chase (some little tikes took a fancy to the bullbars for ramraiding motorbike shops). Oddly it was missing. Never could decide if the mag or a crusty 4x12 Marshall guitar cab was the worse loss...
( , Fri 26 Jan 2007, 14:43, Reply)
I'd just bought a very rusty, white Ford Transit with bullbars, primarily for moving my universe of shit to my first London flatshare with a mate, but also to help him out moving gear around for gigs. On one of the drives to the big smoke, we stopped for fuel and my friend decided that as I was now a white van owner, there should be a dirty mag sitting face up on the dash under the windscreen.
My virgin experience of actually buying Club (always better quality in my view) wasn't at all seedy until the 'whipper-snapper' cashier proclaimed "Ooh, that's fucking nice that is, cor look at her...", before rubbing the cover vigorously on his crotch. Nice.
The magazine never really moved from the dash until I had to visit the reclaim yard it was sitting in after being wrecked in a police chase (some little tikes took a fancy to the bullbars for ramraiding motorbike shops). Oddly it was missing. Never could decide if the mag or a crusty 4x12 Marshall guitar cab was the worse loss...
( , Fri 26 Jan 2007, 14:43, Reply)
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