Honcho

He and I usually share the same sorts of obsessions, but one particular entry in Mr. Gloryholejunkie's blog recently spoke to me when he talked about how in days of yore, wankers would leave 'courtesy' copies of gay porn rags in restrooms for lucky guys to use as jerking material.

The very first printed porn I ever saw was such a magazine.

It was a copy of Honcho, left in the second floor men's room of the college I attended. It was the cruisiest of the several cruisy restrooms in the small rural town. Back in the early nineteen-eighties, one of the easiest places to get sex no matter where you traveled was to hit the men's rooms in a university library; one of them was sure to be hopping. (It's not a bad rule of thumb now, either.) The one I haunted back then attracted a steady stream of students, staff, out-of-towners, tourists, and faculty. Especially faculty.

One day I went in, dropped my jeans around my ankles, and found a magazine tucked away in the corner. The pages were already stiff from use and the cover and many of the inside pages were sticking together from dried cum. I had to blink several times to make sure it was real.

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I'd been having sex for almost a decade at that point, and lots of it, but I'd never, ever seen it in glossy, full-color print. Where would I, in that sleepy little southern town? I can't even imagine where anyone bought it. I'm guessing that some poor kid had managed to get his hands on a copy in one of the cities and couldn't bring himself to keep it in his dorm room for fear of discovery. Then a few others had used it in the men's room and left it behind for similar reasons.

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draconian new censorship policies: 2/26/15)

I remember looking at the pics and keeping my hand stroking constantly over my wet dick. I shot one load, ate it (I still do, when I jack), and was working on another when someone came into the tiny restroom. Was it the person who'd left the magazine, coming back to reclaim it? A cruiser? Nope, it was some guy who proceeded to ruin the mood by taking over the other stall and unloosing the smelliest, loudest dump imaginable. I rolled up the Honcho tightly, pulled up my pants, and snuck back to my dorm room.

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draconian new censorship policies: 2/26/15)

I was a Honcho purchaser after that, through much of the eighties. I got rid of the collection long, long ago, but I did keep one copy--the original one I'd discovered in the restroom. I still have it, too. The cover has disintegrated, and a lot of the pages are rigid as cardboard, but damn, it brings back a lot of memories of those days I spent with my knees on the tiles, playing with dicks I couldn't see beneath a marble partition.