If I fell into a barrel of tits..
I was brought up in an fairly asexual house hold, zero exposure to sexual imagery...until I went to primary school.

My earliest porn memory was in art class, aged about five or six. We were encouraged to bring in old newspapers to line tables with, so we could potato print like mofos.

Some copies of the Sun and the Star were brought in, and I can remember surrep-tit-iously pilfering the page 3s from them, and looking at them on my own at a later date, far too early to elicit any physical reactions but overly compelling never the less.

At the age of eleven, I went to France on a camping holiday, to the Loire valley. They had fireflies down there, and I went off into the long grass alone, entranced, chasing them.

The path got thinner, the grass higher, until I stumbled upon a clearing. It took a while for my naive mind to make sense of what I was seeing - a picnic rug laid down, and rather surprisingly, two bronzed lithe young women in their mid 20s, writhing around on top of each other, covered in oil. They looked at me, I looked at them.

I wandered off in search of more fireflies, images of hot lesbian sex seared indelibly into my subconscious.

Later, porn santa, benefactor, purveyor of quality filth, frequenter of railway sidings and woods, provided educational copies of Knave, Escort and Razzle.

The Mull of Kintyre rule was still in force - soft porn was literally that - it was quite a while from then (my childhood was preinternet) till hardcore sex made its presence felt.
(Countryslicker, Fri 26 Jan 2007, 15:37, Reply)