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.
(An image has been removed to comply with Blogger's
draconian new censorship policies: 2/26/15)
draconian new censorship policies: 2/26/15)
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.
(An image has been removed to comply with Blogger's
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.
(An image has been removed to comply with Blogger's
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.
Hehe.... Socks.
ReplyDeleteChris, I think I shot more jizz over "Socks" guy than anyone else in that issue.
ReplyDeleteHe's very hairy and manly.
ReplyDeleteI like that shower scene.
Where I lived you couldn't get these magazines but you could get Body Building ones! I can't remember the number of times I shot my load on the pictures of Musclegods in tight posing pouch's! The first time I got a copy of Men Magazine I was so horned up glancing thru the pages I came in my pants standing at the bookshelves! Had to take off my jacket and hang it on my arm to hide the big wet stain as I left!
ReplyDeleteAnonymous,
ReplyDeleteThat sounds naughty. Like something I would've done!
In the early 80's, the restroom in the basement of my university's library was like a social club I couldn't get enough of. Any hour of the day (or night, until the whole building locked up around 1 a.m.), you knew you could find plenty of guys hanging out in there. The glory holes were nice and big, the place had plenty of privacy, and there were always new friends to be made (and old ones to get reacquainted with). I'll never forget the smell of that room, or the semi-darkness of the weak light filtering in through the clouded windows or down from the weak light bulbs. And I remember what it felt like to slide off the seat and down onto my knees on the floor - to slide across the tiles and push my pulsing cock under the partition to present itself to the mouth of a guy anxiously waiting for it. To be there was to be accepted, wanted, and among friends.....
ReplyDeleteAnonymous,
ReplyDeleteWhat university might that have been? It seems a nearly universal truth that the library is the place to go looking for horny faculty and undergrads on any campus.
I still love the excitement of kneeling down on a dirty tile floor and feeling my dick ease into the mouth (or hole) of an anonymous stranger whose only goal is to make me shoot as quickly and efficiently as possible. It's sex boiled down to its most essential, and it always makes my pulse quicken. Love reading your description of it!
god. how I fondly remember my college years at JMU's old library. 3rd floor. and I also had a copy of that exact issue of honcho! I was at JMU from 1981 until 1985! Rob, I know you know of it!
ReplyDeleteAARON THE HEBREWMAN