Monday, December 12, 2011

First and foremost, I’m a film nerd.

Specifically, I’m obsessed with the films of the early to mid 70’s and how they reflected our culture’s response to things like Watergate, Vietnam and the whole collapse of the 60’s “free love movement”. In short, I love grind house, exploitation films from the 1970s. Not only as entertainment, but also as a reflection of culture and shifting ideals, in fact I almost got tossed out of film school for arguing about the cultural significance of the x-rated film “Barbara Broadcast… but that is a story for another day.. When a blatantly pornographic film like Deep Throat can gain a mainstream audience and a film like Midnight Cowboy can not only carry the dreaded “X” rating, but also garner an Oscar nomination? Times, they were a changing and I’ve always said that you can tell a lot about a culture based on what it views as “porn”.

But I digress, I love old school porn. Probably my first erotic memories were from seeing the full page advertisements for 8MM loops in the back of the nudie mags I stole from my grandfather. Back then all the penetration was covered by black censor bars, but I remember the sheer volume of sexual images to be overwhelming to my young brain. If I had a time machine, I’d go back to NYC in the 70’s, to walk along 42nd street and experience the grind houses in person. Not for the sexual thrill but for what I call the “meta” to understand who and what made us tick, sexually and to understand why it had such an impact on my young brain

Again, I digress, but when it comes to this topic I can bore the paint off a wall at 20 paces with my thoughts, observations and (worst of all) questions.

Fast forward to the summer of 2011.

I have the unique and wicked pleasure to be traveling in Portland with a companion who is also a fan of the grind house. Much to my surprise, she informs me that in the heart of old town Portland there is an operating grind house theater, still! This is amazing, most of these monuments to rain coats and masturbation were closed down when the VHS tape took off and we could get smut in the comfort of our living room, not some smelly (often sticky) theater in the “bad” part of town. Much to my delight, this theater was still operating. Relying now on the hipsters and anime nerds, but its doors were open for us to wander into one warm summer eve.

(Jesus Monk, quit talking about social impacts of film theory and give the nice people something naughty to read!)

And so, this particular summer’s eve my companion was dressed in a short black dress. Nothing too “complex” to bastardize the great Mel Brooks, but it was what was *under* the dress that mattered. Beneath her simple dress, she wore long, silk stockings, connected to old school garter belts that came up to frame her panty clad ass like a pair of goal posts, guiding you into the in zone of her firm, pert bottom. Not the quasi “retro” kind, but the lace covered, thigh spreading wonders that only the 1970’s could manifest.

Stepping into the theater, we are greeted by an over eager door man. He is more than happy to explain that our presence at tonight’s showing would be free of charge and that anytime we wished (as a couple) to visit the theater it was “on the house”. Hmm, interesting to say the least, but who am I to complain? Sadly they were showing modern porn, not old school stuff that still existed on a reel of celluloid. Someday I hope to experience sitting in a darkened theater, listening to the whir and clatter of a projector as something taboo flickers to life on the screen before me. Again, I digress. Sorry. I’m out of practice at this blogging thing.

The theater it self was a dingy affair. A few hundred seats at most. Spread out in a bowl around a screen. A screen showing some random European girl getting her various bodily orifices stuffed by a number of random, forgettable (and slightly oily) euro dudes. We were soon to find out that what was happening on the screen was not the main attraction…

The usher guides us to the “couples space”, a cordoned off space in the back of the theater. Leather (ish) seats and a very solid looking, waist high fence awaited up as we sat back to take in the show.

Now is where things start to get a bit… odd.

Sitting back to enjoy the pornographic film playing on the big screen, my companion lays her head across my lap as she kneels at my feet. A very natural pose for her this particular weekend of sin. If my count of the heads in front of me is accurate, the theater holds about 30 to 40 patrons. At first they take no notice, then... Well then something odd begins to happen. A few brave souls get up from their seats in the middle of the theater and move to the back wings on the left or right of our position. Staying at what I could only call a “plausible deniable distance” the sat, watching us out of the corner of their eyes while pretending to still watch the feature on the screen.

Others were not so subtle, like prairie dogs we watched as one head after another pops up, turns back and realizes that there is an actual female in the audience. Leaving the well worn seats, they begin to line the barricade that separates our “couples only” space and the rest of the theater. Ignoring the girl as her anus takes not one, not too, but three cocks at once on the screen, they all sit in silent admiration for the girl at my feet. Each one waiting for her to do something, something *real*, not acted on the big screen.

Here is where I must pause and say that I am a sick, sadistic bastard. As the men stared, their eyes penetrating my companion in every possible way, I instructed her to stand. Stand and raise her skirts to the admiring crowd.

Hands slide off the rail and into *other* places as she parades her ass across the room for all the patrons to see. Panties stretched tight and wisps of hair peeking from between her legs, she giggles and shakes her ass with seductive glee before bending over my knee. If I am a bastard, she is a cock tease and enjoying the attention.

My hand rests on her bottom as she closes her eyes and pushes her ass up to meet me. My hand connects with her bottom, making a loud, sharp report. Some of the audience smile, others look with wary concern. This was not the show they were expecting. With growing force and speed, I strike her ass. Raising the skin to a bright, swollen red. Her thighs are aglow as the blood flows to her pale, almost transparent skin.

At my instruction, she stands skirt still up around her midsection and turns to the watching crowd, each one transfixed and staring with jaws agape.

“Show them your bottom, darling” I tell her.

“Now boys,” I say to the pie eyed men watching the scene, “I think you best give her a round of applause for her contribution to tonight’s entertainment”

Awkwardly hands emerge and a round of applause comes from the watchers. My companion blushes and takes a deep bow, showing them the growing wet spot in her panties.

I raise and take my date by the hand. Pushing through the watching crowd and making for the door. A chorus of “thank you”: can be heard from behind me as I steer her through the exit and into the night air.

“You are a mean man, Sir”: she tells me,” Not giving them anything more of a show than that”

“Oh my dear child” I laugh, “All good story tellers know that the best thing is to leave them wanting more….”

And into the warm night we walked, arm and arm.