Monday, July 25, 2011

Waxing Nostalgic II - Nic And Golden Chest Of Porn

Or The Summer I Learned How To Pick A Lock.

Every man in here got a pornography stash in the crib. Not an illegal amount, just enough to get you by! "
- Chris Rock

Not too long after finding out about scrambled porn, I became aware of my two older brothers behavior. I noticed that they spent more and more time in the bathroom and in their rooms. What it was that making them take longer and longer eluded me but whenever I went in after them there was this heavy scent of Jergens® hand lotion. Now you guys may have put it together but at that time I had no clue. One time while I was in the bathroom, actually using it for what it was designed for, I bent over to pull up my pants and saw something under the tub.

We had an old fashioned bathtub back then and in the far corner there was something laying on the floor. Reaching under the tub I picked up a magazine called Players. Players was the black version of Playboy back then. Giddily thumbing through the magazine I couldn't believe what I was looking at. Full on nekkid women and this time it wasn't scrambled and squiggly like with the cable porn. Crystal clear images of glistening bodies in the sexiest and most graphic poses I had ever seen.


At least while I was in the bathroom it was. I sat on the toilet just drinking in all the nudity. The smooth skin, large breasts and don't get me started on the bush and back then it was BUSH. Women had hair down there and it was the norm not a fetish. Page after page was nothing but lush triangles of hair and boobs. Now contrary to what you may be thinking, I wasn't masturbating to any of it. I was like 12 at the time and while some of you perverts may have been well seasoned professional masturbators by that age, the idea of manual stimulation just didn't occur to me...yet. So I would look at all this material and have a boner harder than Chinese arithmetic. You've heard the phrase "an erection hard enough to cut diamond" well mine was harder than whatever it was that cut the first diamond. And I would just live with it until it went away. As far as I knew that was how you dealt with it.

In the meantime I would just look at the pictures and read. And God was there stuff to read. Each of the major nudey magazines figured out that people liked reading the sexy articles and stories as much as looking at the pictures, so they published little zines dedicated to just the stories. Penthouse was the most popular with their Forum mini-magazine filled with erotic articles and letters. Their stories were the wildest. The letters usually began with "Dear Penthouse, I never thought I would be writing to you" or "I never thought it could happen to me..." or some variation on that. The stories and articles were totally fascinating with their graphic descriptions of bodies twisted in passion. The only problem was at such a young age I had no freaking idea what the hell they were talking about half the time. What the hell was a "clitoris"? What did "engorged" mean? And what was a "dildo" and why did every woman have to use one? The  upside of my sneaking around was that I was looking at all the porn I wanted. The downside was that I couldn't ask anyone what the hell anything was.  If my parents even thought I was looking at this stuff they would kill me and my brothers for bringing it into the house. And I couldn't ask my brothers because they would kill me for snooping in their stuff. And the last time I used a dirty word around them they literally interrogated me to find out how I knew it and what I thought it meant. I remember being about 7 years old and saying the word "freakin" as in "I saw two kids freakin in the back of the classroom." And suddenly they surrounded me and asked me in rapid fire succession:
I want my lawyer and a cookie!

Terrance (oldest brother, 12): "What does freakin mean, Nic?"

Lenny (middle brother, 11): "yeah, Nic what does it mean?"

Me (youngest, 7): "uhhh, you know..."

Terrance: No, I don't know. You said it and used it correctly...what does it mean?"

Lenny: "Where'd you hear it from, huh?"

Me: "I dunno..."

Terrence: "No don't say you don't know cuz you DO, what does it mean?"

This went on for a few minutes but it felt like forever. Clearly talking to them was not an option so I had to muddle through and figure things out as I went along. And the stories and letters were just all over the place. There was one guy who wrote about the one time he fucked a cow in his barn. And while I was totally grossed out, his descriptions made it surprisingly erotic. There were incest stories and cheating stories. Very rarely were there any kind of stories of men having sex with women in a "normal" setting, there always seemed to be some kind of weird twist or special circumstance. At least that's how I recall it.

And the language, part of the reason I had so much trouble deciphering things was because I wasn't aware that porn came with its own colorful slang terms. And those terms meant different things depending on culture and region, like for instance the word cock. Back in the 70s when I was really young, I would hear the word cock mentioned from time to time by the older boys and old-heads around the neighborhood. But it was always in reference to female genitalia. Sometimes when my parents had house parties, I would go and hang with the older guys and listen to them talk about the things they did. And it would be nothing to hear a couple of guys say:

Old-Head1: "Hey man, I took Clarissa out last week, we had a good time."

Old-Head2: "Cool, did she give up the cock?"

wait, what?
Yeah, I know, today it sounds crazy and hilarious but back then that was one of the words for vagina for black people. At least in my region. Now imagine being a kid with this understanding and definition of the word and reading a Penthouse story where a sentence read: Brad threw Jennifer on the bed, unzipped his pants and pulled out his big COCK. I read that passage several times and was still confused. White men had...cocks? And again I had NO ONE who could explain it to me. There were people who would but it would be the last thing I would hear before my neck was broken for reading porn. So I chalked it up to crazy white people stuff and moved on.

And it went on like this for the rest of that summer on into the next year. Terrence went off to college and Lenny was left as the main pornographer in the house. Eventually he had a suspicion that someone was going in his stuff. I always treated snooping around in his room when he was gone like it was Mission Impossible. In fact I would hum the theme song to myself while I was doing it. The most exciting times was when I would do it while he was still in the house. Granted there was the very real possibility of him catching and tossing me around the room like a rag doll but the increased tension broke up the monotony of boring weekends and summer. On top of being a horny voyeur I was also apparently sort of an adrenalin junkie. I saw myself like an adventurer like Indiana Jones and the porn I was sneaking around to see was the valuable artifact. Usually I would go into his room and check the universal hiding place...under the mattress. Most of the time I would find them there, waiting for me. But one time Lenny had three mags under there and I must have not put them back in the order they were laying because when I went back to check again, they were gone. I quickly checked the secondary spots. Under the tub...gone, in the last drawer in the old bureau no one ever used...nope, behind the loose baseboard in the closet...nada. Where the hell was he hiding them?

I was so involved in the search that I didn't even notice Lenny standing in the doorway of his bedroom. "I know what you're looking for and you will never see it again." he said. Even though I know he didn't sound like it, whenever I recall this incident I always remember Lenny sounding like Auric Goldfinger. "I locked them up in my toolbox and I have the only key." He walked away with a triumphant air about himself as if that was all there was to it. What Lenny didn't realize was just how powerful a motivator porn can be to a bored, horny just turned thirteen year old. And the summer of '84 had just begun.

I had long since figured out what porn was for and was by this point a veteran pud puller. Which meant I was going through severe withdrawal when Lenny put the supply on lock down. As the summer approached, I paced and schemed on how I was going to get into that toolbox. He had a cheap little key lock on it but that was enough to keep me from satisfaction. Yeah, he had it all figured out alright, the only thing he didn't take into account was the fact that he had a job working at the Navy Yard that year and I had all summer to find a way to get into that toolbox. Then it hit me. It was so simple, I could just pick the lock. The only hitch was I didn't know how to pick a lock but that was a minor detail. How hard could it be really, I saw it on television.

You see, one the unintended consequences of being in a generation raised on TV was that it was a ready source of information and inspiration, sometimes for things not so positive. How many crime dramas did I watch where someone picked a lock, usually with a bobby pin? So I got one from mom's bedroom and set out to get my prize. I walked into Lenny's room and surveyed the box kinda like that scene in Raiders Of The Lost Ark. Slipping the pin in the key slot I proceeded to jiggle and twist it for about ten minutes. Nothing happened. I pulled it out and slid it back in again then twisted the bobby pin more vigorously. Still nothing. I got frustrated and started to resign myself to the idea that I would never see the magazines again. But I couldn't go back to scrambled porn and Monty Python's Flying Circus or The Benny Hill Show which showed scantily clad chicks and occasionally nudity. It wasn't enough anymore.

Benny Hill Ruled the early 80s! And yes that is Jane Leeves...

In a combination of desperation and exasperation I jammed the bobby pin in the lock and jiggled it real hard and...POP! It unlocked! I did it! The TV shows were right, you could pick a lock with a bobby pin! Giggling like a maniac, I opened the toolbox and saw that it was filled to the brim with all kinds of magazines. I hit the freakin' mother lode! There were about 40 magazines nearly all of them I'd never seen before. Gent, Swank, Oui, Fling and Playboy...Playboy? Why was that in there? Playboy was tame compared to the other more hardcore magazines. By now I was used to spread legs and pink shots, asscheeks akimbo and simulated sex position poses. Playboy was coffee table affair. Taking full advantage of an empty house because everyone else had a day job but me, I dove into the pile.

The sampling of magazine covers you see above is a perfect example of what was in that toolbox. Talk about over-stimulated, I wacked off so much and so often that I had dreams I pulled my dick off and all the women in the magazines would laugh at me and say "told you so...". But that was great summer anyway. I got away with being able to open the box for about a month and a half until one day I forgot to lock it back. The next time I want into Lenny's room there was a more formidable combination lock on the toolbox. It was futile trying to crack that one but by that time I had seen so much and wacked off  so often that I needed a break anyway. Eventually Lenny and I struck up a deal. As siblings we were the closest, we were like Snoopy and Woodstock, when we weren't fighting like cats and dogs. Lenny understood that I was getting older and puberty had hit me like a thug with a sack of quarters. Plus the horse had long left the barn in terms of my exposure to porn. Eventually the lock came off and he told me that he had found the magazines in a chest at the garage he worked at. Apparently it was abandoned and he would bring home hand fulls at time.

Over time we would move from collecting magazines to videos and then Lenny took me to my first strip club but that's another story.

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