I need a new hobby

It has taken many years but I have turned a corner in my life and it is quite the milestone.

I am now totally desensitised to pornography.

Really, I think I have seen it all now, with some obvious exceptions.  I am not that cunt from the Lost Prophets.

When you are eating a bowl of Wheeto’s while watching a woman in a full gimp suit being fucked by a mechanical dildo/go-kart, life probably doesn’t have that many surprises left.  It’s just all one big fleshy blur now, one giant ball of lubed up, sweaty penetration.

Seriously, it’s just a sea of never ending female ejaculate and moaning whores flopping about all over the place.  I never thought I would say this in my lifetime but not even the hardest of lesbian ‘insertion’ clips even raises an eyebrow nowadays.  I think there might be a problem.

I’m not even joking when I say that I have searched for some of the most obscure porno that can be found.  I once put ‘girl from Sunderland gets fucked in a nightclub cloakroom’ into a google search, but it didn’t bare fruit.

A girl was being fucked in a cloakroom, but she wasn’t from Sunderland.  I felt let down.

Don’t get me wrong it’s not like I don’t enjoy a good porno, it’s just that there isn’t much out there that I haven’t seen.  Car park gang bangs, gimps getting kicked in the bollocks, lesbian wrestle rape, I have googled them all.  It must be like working at a chocolatiers, after a time you must just get sick of chocolate.

Have you ever met a porn star, they are just like real people but with the capacity to take a 2 litre coke bottle up them.  You will be more than surprised to find that they don’t spend the entire time fucking people/stuff while you are with them.

I knew this girl from years ago, back in the old club days that started doing magazine work, nothing too hardcore just tits and gash stuff but she wanted to go into videos.  I remember she was working for a magazine that she had never seen and asked me what it was like and what sort of stuff they did.  I didn’t know the magazine so we scoured North London until we found an issue in a Euro-store and we had a look.

She was more than happy to take the job after she saw that there was some lesbian stuff in there and a lot of dildo play.  Bless her.  She later showed me her dildo collection.  It was extensive.

I remember there was one that had a hilt like a boot knife.  What a girl.

It’s always awkward when you get spotted leaving a sex shop by someone you know.  Once me and
this girl were leaving one of the London sex super stores on Charing Cross road and there was a girl that I used to date waiting for her mate outside.  She just found it funny but I think the girl that I was with was a little embarrassed.

A good mate of mine back in the day got a job in a late night sex shop that just did DVD’s and tape.  He loved it because the boss would leave him to the place pretty much all night and we used to smoke weed and go through the Japanese girl on girl section.  It was a cool place to hang out and we would often take the piss out of the seedy little blokes that would frequent the place after dark.

We would spend the night jotting down notes for scripts and giggle at the hardcore S&M we would put on then go flyering for some shitty indie clubs.  Good times.

I think I could handle being a smut peddler, I could handle working in one of those places but I wouldn’t want to work in a peepshow.  All that spunk up the walls that would have to be cleaned and I can only imagine what you would find in the bogs.  Having to spend all-day sitting there listening to blokes wanking through paper thin walls; might have to give that a miss, ta.

Have you ever been in one?  You pay £1 for about thirty seconds of some boss-eyed Ukrainian bird shoving a plastic corn on the cob up herself.  The floors in these places have this weird chalky film over the lino from all the disinfectant they have to tosh onto the floor.  Nice.

Some places have glory holes out back where you pop your dick through and some tart will ‘do stuff’ for a minimal fee.  I wouldn’t trust the place personally because you never know who’s on the other side.

Just after you chuck your muck you hear a bloke say “You’re welcome” on the other side of the partition.  The blood runs cold.

I did hear that there was one of those places close to where I live but I think it was just a place where old dudes went ‘cottaging’.  I also heard that someone got shot in a ‘cottage’ recently after performing an act and not getting any money or something.  Whatever, someone got blown then shot, life goes on.

I remember using one of the under street toilets in Kentish Town and when I came out of the cubicle there was this bloke just standing there even though there were free stalls.  He nodded at me; I left saying nothing and was not raped.

Happy days.

There’s a couple of peep shows at the bottom of Berwick street in the west-end an once I saw a bunch of kids hanging about outside  waiting for men to come out so they could point and shout at them for a laugh.  They were not laughing however when the gigantic Moroccan security guard beat the shit into two of them.

The amount of blood that poured from that kid’s nose was almost disturbing.

How we laughed.